I like slacks

"Why?", you say. Well, because mainly I find them to be the most comfortable pant choice. Just so we're clear (prolegomena?); jeans, chino's, and khaki's are not slacks. Slacks are usually a little dressier in nature. Often made of a thinner fabric than the list above. Although, I also enjoy my wool slacks.

Nonetheless, I like 'em. My preference would seem to be counter-cultural. Most people have their favorite pair of "comfortable jeans", but I find them heavy and not especially giving. My slacks on the other hand, remind me of my pajama pants, light and forgiving. Heck, I'm tempted to take a nap right now. It might be important to note that my workplace does not require such attire. In fact, I cause suspicion when I show up wearing something with cuffs and a pleat or two.

All this to say, if you've lived you life looking down on slacks because of some negative connotation they might have attained when you were a youngster, you should give them another try. They look smashing, they comfortable, plus if you get bored you can check out your thigh muscles through the thin material.

Controversy for the bored

Ok, I'm sure no one really cares about this. But I've got this freaking blog, and well, you're desperate enough to be here reading it...so...

In case you were not aware, the MLS (Major League Soccer) franchise formally known as the San Jose Earthquakes has been relocated to Houston, a soccer hotbed. Well, they recently unveiled the new name since Earthquakes and Houston really don't go together. The new name? Houston 1836. Yeah, that's the whole thing. It's very soccer, which means it's not necessarily all that intuitive to the American sports fan. But trust me, is sooo soccer. Anyway, you can obviously see that naming a team in Houston 1836 is one of the most offensive things ever, right? I mean, sure 1836 was the year that Houston was founded, but it's so offensive that they would never think that was a good reason to use that particular year?
Confused? Yeah. Well apparently because 1836 is also the year Santa Ana and the Mexican Army got a whupping delivered to them, using it as a name of a sports team is racially and culturally insensitive to those of Hispanic decent. Did that sentence cause you, like me, to yawn repeatedly?
That seems to be the entirety of it. 1836 is the year Mexico lost and is thus offensive. It is not to be mentioned again. What really got my dander up is a column I read on the FSC website that chose to defend this outlandish overreaction. In the column, Jaime Trecker states that:

Major League Soccer must change the name of the Houston team. Failing to do so tells Latinos across the country that MLS — which cannot afford to alienate any potential paying customers — doesn't care about them. MLS Commissioner Don Garber needs to admit the league and team made a mistake, apologize, and move on.

MLS can benefit from this situation. The league has long tried to win back the 'ethnic' fans who were put off by early efforts to Americanize the game. Acknowledging the offense that '1836' causes to Houston's Latinos is the right step.

As you can guess, I find Jaime's solution to be lunacy. I also refuse to acknowledged the "offense" that '1836' causes. That argument is completely without merit. Obviously, his article required a response. It's fairly docile by my standards, but I supply it nonetheless.

Do you really get paid to improperly analyze a situation and then overreact to it? We're supposed to believe bringing attention to a year that coincides with Texas defeating Mexico in a war is so offensive that those of Hispanic heritage can't deal with it? How then are these people able to stomach waking up each morning in a town named for a man that is known to have led men into battle that resulted in the death of thousands of Mexicans?
The answer is their reaction and complaints are ridiculous. This whole thing is ridiculous. The only thing more ridiculous is your condoning such reaction from the Windy City, no less. Go picket the Blackhawks or something.

Signed Farky...but you can call me 1975.

Tuesdays with a freak

I don't think I'm normally one to make fun of another's physical deformities. I have enough deformities of my own. But sometimes, I'm just overwhelmed. Sunday morning was one such occasion.

I was watching The Sports Reporters on ESPN before setting off for church. As I looked up from the newspaper, I saw Mitch Albom on the screen. As you may or may not know, Mitch Albom is the bestselling author of Tuesdays with Morrie and The Five People You'll Meet in Heaven. He's also, in a shocking development, a sports writer. Anywho, when I spied Mr. Albom, I became transfixed. Time stood still as one question and one question ran on a continual loop through my head. What the heck is going on with his ears?


First, they are huge. I don't mean big...or large. Gargantuan would be a good word. The coverage area is approximately the same as the Princess Leia hairdo. Ok, so they're big. Two, and maybe more importantly, they are quite craggy. The space and definition between the helix and the antihelix is moat-like. The picture I've provided does not do them justice. Trust me. I think the picture below, though, does come closest to capturing the essence of Mitch Albom's ears.

Look Dude, We're all tired

I know in the past I probably violated some social mores when I mention the proceedings in my office's men's room. Like here, here, and of course here. But once again, something so remarkable happened that I feel you must be informed.

Yesterday, as I leave the office for my lunch break I stopped off in the little boy's room to ,you know, go. Well, when one finishes up at the urinal and turns to the sinks or where ever, you are facing the stalls. As anyone is aware, some public restrooms and their stalls are built better than others. Some don't have gaps which allow you to see through. Ours, of course, do. So as I turn I catch a glimpse of a man in the stall nearest the wall. He is seated. He is leaning against the wall. He is asleep. I washed my hands and left to grab bite while wondering what kind of person would want to sleep like that...in there.

I returned from lunch and headed back to the bathroom, probably about an hour and quarter or so later. And what do I see as I turn? Same dude, same stall. Still asleep!

Someone please give me an explanation. And no, he wasn't dead.

How I reacted to Texas winning the National Championship

...not that you care. As you may be aware, I am a somewhat devoted fan of the Texas Longhorns. No, I did not attend the school but because my Alma mater "competes" in Division III I think I have a strong argument that I retain all previous rooting privileges. That being, as long I can remember, I have rooted for two teams: the Dallas Cowboys and the Texas Longhorns. So it is, with overwhelming anticipation, that I approached the Rose Bowl on Jan. 4.

I enjoyed the first half in a fairly calm manner and was more that content with the halftime score. I must admit that when USC scored to make it 38-26 in the fourth quarter I began preparing myself for the possibility that Texas might not win. At that point, I consoled myself that the Longhorns had made a good showing and hadn't been run out of the stadium as some, if not most, predicted. It is in that same calm, grounded demeanor that I watched the rest of the game. Until...until that glorious 4th down stop with 2:09 left. Then the importance of the event I was witnessing via TV came crashing down on me. For I finally began to realize that there was a pretty decent chance that the Longhorns could be national champions. So, when this happened (see picture at right) I kinda started to lose it(losing it really not something I do). After the two-point conversion there were still 19 long seconds left. I was what best could be described as jittery (I usually don't get jittery). Then when Matt Leinart's last incompletion of his college career hit the ground and the clock showed zeros I stood with arms raised in complete exultation and screamed. Something to the effect of,"They won, they won, oh good God, they won." Then I just stood there dazed. I'm sure the people who didn't leave the watching party early (ahem) were saying things to me, but I didn't hear them. I finally lowered my hands after the ceiling fan had whacked them for the fifth time. I gave my two male compadres a hug. I wasn't sure whether I was gonna cry (I don't cry). I was numb. I then stayed up till 1 am watching highlights.

BTW, if anyone wants to watch the last 11 minutes of the game again I have it recorded (in HD no less). I've already re-watched it three times. It still makes me exceedingly happy. Now, take a moment and bow to the great one.

The Book of Daniel

I am fully prepared to admit that I've become completely out of touch. I will admit that I am clueless and self-righteous and moralistic and a fundamentalist and whatever else you might find fitting. Just tell me. Tell me I'm the crazy one and I'll accept it.


So Wednesday night I sat down to watch the premiere of this "exciting new series". Yes, it aired on Friday but I didn't get around to it until Wednesday. Let's all take a moment and thank God for Tivo/DVR/PVR. Here's a brief synopsis I copied from the Dallas Morning News:

The Book of Daniel details the adventures of the Rev. Daniel Webster and his troubled family. His trials include: an alcoholic wife, drug-dealing daughter, oversexed high school son, gay college-age son, bisexual sister-in-law, adulterous father and a mother with Alzheimer's who's prone to making embarrassing remarks. A pot-smoking housekeeper in a posh residence oversees it all.

Amazingly enough, none of that stuff--including the appearance of Jesus as Daniel's happy-go-lucky joke popping buddy-- fazed me. I am fully prepared to believe that since ministers are, in fact, human they might be surrounded or related to those who make incredibly bad choices. We're all fallible, you know. Now this particular episode was 2 hours long. Yeah, I know. I had fought through a variety of possibly offensive scenarios and an hour and a half when Daniel shares some of his Vicodin stash with the Bishop before he begins a marriage counseling session with a fictional couple.

Once again, I've made it this far, and to some what I will describe next will pale in comparison to the deviantness to which I've already alluded, but nonetheless. Rev. Daniel begins the session with some questions about monetary issues, if they discussed kids, whatever. Then he asks, "So how's your sex life? Is everything ok?" I was dumbfounded. Neither member of the couple showed surprise or shock, but the prospective groom answers, "No," while the prospective bride answers, "Yes." The the groom adds, "She can't have sex without being stoned." Once again no shock or embarrassment registers on any of the faces; and no, we're not talking about the biblical stoned. The bride then asks, "Are we weird? Is there something wrong with us?" To which Daniel quickly assures them they are not. Oddly enough, in a parallel to the show, Jesus happened to be sitting next to me on the couch watching the show. As this exchange occurred Jesus and I looked at each other with eyebrows raised, turned back to the TV and simultaneously said, "What the...?" I then stopped the show and deleted it. I also deleted any future recordings.

So, to paraphrase the fictional prospective bride, am I weird? Is there something wrong with me? Does every marriage counseling session with a minister of the Gospel include questions about the couple's sex-life with the presumption that there already is one? Is a couple's admission to premarital sex and recreation drug use met with such nonplussed replies? Tell me! I don't know. I have an idea, though. And that's why I stopped watching the show. And it's not necessarily because I was offended or anything like that. It's just because the whole scene struck me as so completely unbelievable. I was reminded once again that they don't get it. They don't get faith, especially in God. They just don't get any of it.

So America, it's now up to you. Tell me, how crazy/unreasonable/disconnected/irrelevant am I.

Oh, and another thing. If you're gonna call it a dramedy, it's supposed to be funny.

I do not apply myself

There, I said it. Next time you click over here hoping to read something new and insightful and ridiculously funny and instead find the same headline from 6 weeks ago just know that it's not because I couldn't think of anything or because I'm too busy or because I don't love you enough. It's because I don't apply myself.

In a time of brief reflection during the new year this was my "big revelation." I think if you were to ask my friends and family if this were true, they would just fold their arms and slowly nod. Whether it be my career (heh, it's funny to even mention it), meeting those of the female persuasion, my relationship to the Almighty, concert attendance...whatever else you might dream up. I need to apply myself.

Now, I must admit I'm not completely sure how to pull that off so here's what I'll do. This year I resolve (even though I DO NOT make resolutions) to not give myself escape routes (I am a master at the escape). Ok, I probably still do that, but I really try not to and when I do, I hate myself even more than normal.

As far as this little site goes, hopefully I'm back.

2006 - No Escapes!

Football throughout the ages

So, my beloved Horns are gonna play for a national championship. They were able to eek past Colorado on Saturday. I am filled with an emotional cocktail of excitement, anticipation, and nervousness. But just because the BCS got it right this year (insert your preferred "blind squirrel" or "broken clock" joke here), does not mean my hatred has been reduced. And just because there is almost zero controversy this year, it doesn't mean we should let one of the worst championship systems in the history of sports skate.

If you were here last year, you already know my plan. If not, go read it...quickly! I feel I must add (or I guess remove) on little detail and then an explanation.

In my plan of a 16 team playoff, all champions of the 11 conferences get automatic bids. It may seem a little crazy to let the Sun Belt or even MAC winner in, but I believe it serves a purpose to have a similar effect that the basketball tournament has had. That being of leveling the playing field. No longer will the major or classic "power conferences" have a stranglehold on the chances to win. They'll still have most, but not all. That would not only raise the level of interest throughout the country, but, more importantly, give all small schools and small conferences a chance. A chance to win, a chance to been seen, a chance to recruit. Without a tournament, I'm not sure anyone would know or care about Gonzaga, but they do now. I would hope that similar stories could play out in football.
So now, without further delay, the mythical play-off that would occur in 2005.

Mythical 2005 NCAA Playoff Bracket (BSC ranking; or AP if not in BCS)

#1 USC (1)
#16 Arkansas St (NR)

#8 Miami, FL (8)
#9 Auburn (9)

#4 Ohio St. (4)
#13 Boise St. (28)

#5 Oregon (5)
#12 Fla. St. (22)

#3 Penn St. (3)
#14 Tulsa (35)

#6 Notre Dame (6)
#11 TCU (14)

#7 Georgia (7)
#10 West Virginia (11)

#2 Texas (2)
#15 Akron (NR)

See, God's on my side

Hello.

As I'm sure you're aware, I am a single male. This implies several things-- some of them untrue, but nonetheless-- like I'm messy (true...sorta), I can't cook (not true...sorta), I cannot properly do a load of laundry, or I do not decorate for holidays (TRUE, TRUE, TRUE). This last one has been a point of contention for some time. The way I see it, there's no need to put up a tree or, God forbid, lights on the house when I will be far away from my home on Christmas day. When people discover this fact a sad, disapproving look comes over them and the following conversation typically ensues:

Person with Christmas Spirit: You don't put up a tree?
Me : No.
Pw/CS: Really?
Me : Really.
Pw/CS: Why not?
Me : Don't know, just seems pointless. It's not like I'll be there opening up presents around it on Christmas or anything.
Pw/CS: You got to put up a tree.
Me : Actually, you don't.
Pw/CS: You're such a Scrooge.

Now, this exchange has occurred numerous times. Parents, other family members, friends, co-workers with generally the same conclusion. I am a scrooge for not adorning the inside and outside of my home with audacious displays of yuletide cheer. Let me confess, on some level, I think I might agree with them. But at the end of the day, my own pragmatism wins out and I just can't justify the time, energy, and money spent on something I'll be tearing down in 3 weeks.

So it was with mild amusement I realized that everyone who actually acknowledges the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ and spent this long weekend putting up lights and plastic nativity scenes and various wooden reindeer found their displays rearranged and relocated by an "act of God". Especially after seeing what happened to the big tree in downtown Ft. Worth, I can only assume, God's right there with me.

I see weird people

If you're asking where I've been, the answer is here. If you didn't notice I've been bloggily reticent, well, I guess I can't blame you....

...Anyway. This Saturday I was afforded several opportunities to behold my fellow man and think, "What the...?" My first encounter was while running at the aforementioned park. The park always seems to present opportunities for oddity, like the girl singing off-key at the top of her lungs, or the time I was ten feet from being barreled over by a horse...yes a horse. Anyway, I'm running along the trail and I look up and see a man coming my direction on a bike. No biggy, just some dude who seemed to need some exercise, maybe even a little bit more than I needed it, but who am I to judge. Then I noticed what looked like smoke around his head. It was cooler than normal, but I hadn't noticed my own breath as being visible all morning, so... surely not... then I smelled it. As he passed he took a drag. Yes, that's right, a guy willing to take time out of his Saturday morning to go to the bike trail and ride also thought it a good idea to smoke a cigarette while doing so. Well, dude, it's not. It's one of the dumbest things I've ever seen. Maybe not the the weirdest on this day, but the dumbest.

The other two sightings are probably less fantastic given my locale, but even so. Saturday night I found myself in the company of about 20,000 others as we enjoyed the ebb and flow of a U2 concert. Pretty good seats and a pretty...pretty...pretty good concert. A couple of things bothered me, though. One, and I'm sure this is gonna put me a bad light, but should not there be some sort of weight limit on who can stand up and dance in public? I'm just saying that there is something unnatural about the site of a woman on the wrong side of four bills dancing. There, I said it. You can hate me now but I don't care. While standing at the concert witnessing all this frivolity, I did notice that men and women seem to adhere to very different standard on displays of public excitement. Along with that girl, I could include the girl next to me who was so out of control at times my personal domain was severely encroached. Especially when I took a moment to use my seat for it's intended purpose. Do the math people, if I'm sitting and she's standing...yeah, that's right... butt in my face. And in no way was that a favorable outcome. There was also some chick in the row in front of my who was dancing like she was in the privacy of her own home. Lot's of jumping, arms everywhere, just crazy. On the other hand, the most you can get out of the usual guy is a head bob and a clap. Most of the times the hands stay in the pockets, and never should any self-respecting male use a spin move...or a prop...except for...

This guy. The winner of "Saturday's Weirdest person entering Jason's world" contest goes to the fifty-something-white guy at the concert. Normal build with wavy (note the wavy) white hair. Wearing sunglasses...indoors...at a concert where they have curtains over the doors so as not to allow light in. Yeah. I also noticed he strutted around like he owed the place. Along with his sunglasses, he's wearing a western style shirt with two guitars on the back. Probably not iron-on, maybe embroidered, with writing that would seem to indicate some tight or loose affiliation with an organization dedicated to the pursuits of guitar playing and/or rock'n roll, but who can really know. It was dark! As I was attempting to make sense of all this, he walks up to the railing at the front of our little section and proceeds to--along with The Edge, I presume-- play air guitar with one leg resting on said railing. Dude, that's just weird.

You choose

The reason the Astros won...


Or, the reason the Cardinals lost...

Quick hits to make someone crazy

- I saw the movie Crash this week after much talk and encouragement that it was pretty good and would change my life. Well...uh...my first thought when it ended was, "And?" Leasons learned: (1) People in L.A. are really (really) racist...more than almost every human I know. (2) Bad people can do good things. (3) Good people can do horrible things. The last two I already knew. So, in conclusion, people in L.A. are really racist.

- I saw this the other day. It's a letter from al-Zawahiri to bin Laden, supposedly. In it, among other things, he says,"... I say to you: that we are in a battle, and that more than half of this battle is taking place in the battlefield of the media. And that we are in a media battle in a race for the hearts and minds of our Umma."

If that's the case, we're screwed, because I think we all know who the media's rooting for.

- More on that sorry Tom Hicks and his propaganda campaign from an article by Dan McGraw:

The Rangers ranked 21st in payroll — in the bottom third. And at the press conference announcing Hart’s resignation, Hicks trotted out his usual misinformation. He talked about how teams like Cleveland and Oakland were models for the success of low-payroll teams and said that spending on players wasn’t a critical part of winning. He never mentioned that the low payroll A’s and Indians didn’t make the playoffs, but the ones that spent did.

The Rangers player payroll was about $55 million this year. Here’s what the team brought in: $46 million for local and national media rights, $42.5 million in ticket sales, $14.4 million in luxury suites, and about $5 million for parking. That’s close to $108 million in revenue, even before you add stadium naming rights, sponsorships, sales of team gear, and the pricey beers and hot dogs, which provide maybe another $20 million or $30 million.

Hicks has said the team was “marginally profitable” this year. Uh-oh — more misinformation. I don’t have the Rangers books in front of me — and I’m not an accountant — but it doesn’t take a ledger expert to come to the conclusion that the Rangers made a lot of money this past year.

We know I'm crazy, are you?

Are you sure you want to stick with that?

Ok, this is not something I'm proud of; it's just the way it is. First, I quit going to my scripturally ordained Sunday school class over a year ago. There was no "real" reason other than as I stood there and looked around the room I was overcome with this feeling that it was the last place in the world that I wanted to be at that moment. Much to even my own surprise, since I'm sure others who know me will attest that I am one to stick it out through almost any circumstance, I just walked out.

Let me add that one of the first things I disliked about my class was the painstaking enumeration of prayer requests. And then the follow-up where we "lift those concerns to God." I'm not saying I don't believe in prayer, or even a time where people have an opportunity to share, I'm just not sure spending 20-30 minutes talking about "my co-worker's great-aunt and her gall bladder problem" is really best for my spiritual (and mental) well being. So now that everyone (including God) thinks I'm the biggest jackass the world has ever known (I'll put that next to my trophy as world's most disliked man), I will now dig the hole a little deeper...

My class (that I no longer attend) has a Yahoo! email group, which for reasons I can't fully explain I have yet to unsubscribe. Each week a list of "Prayer Requests" is sent out, presumably culled from the class and any special petitions via email. Many times I just delete it, but this week I thought I'd give it a look just to see what was going on. The list had eleven entries that spanned the range of the expected; death, sickness, and natural disaster. Except for one. Number one on the list stopped me dead in my tracks; I re-read it 4 times just to make sure. Here's what is said:

1. Pray for Julie. She is having trouble potty training her dog.
-names have been changed to protect the privacy or pet owners

Now a prayer:
Dear God,
I'm sorry I made fun of the prayer list from a Sunday school class I don't even attend. But a man can only fight so much temptation. I'm sorry. Please forgive me.

Amen.

The Greatest Sports Weekend Ever?

It's really nice to be right. It's even better when for three days practically any team that you have even a marginal rooting interest steps on the field and wins. On Friday, my high school alma mater won, staying undefeated. On Saturday, whoa nellie. First and foremost: What is up!


My college alma mater won while their biggest competitor lost. Teams that I had less of a rooting interest in won. Baylor ends a 37 game road losing streak, winning their first Big 12 road game...ever. SMU, a 24 point underdog wins on a psuedo hail mary. TCU, my SUP (Stupid Underdog Pick of the week) won. Oh and Texas A&M went to Boulder and lost by 3 touchdowns just as I predicted. Got a joke for ya...stop me if you've heard it...ready... Dennis Franchione. Then Sunday, I sit on the couch and I find that I had a nice present waiting. Full scale Dallas Cowboy domination. Over the Eagles! Too, delicious.
Also, the Astros advance in 18 innings. What a weekend! It was so very sportsy!

The Big Game

I'm here to make my annual prediction that probably will doom my team. Nonetheless, Texas wins! Wins big. 34-10....Hook 'em!

Putting it up on a tee

So I go into the restroom here at work yesterday (don't you love it when someone starts a story that way?) and guess who I run into. No really. You know...come on! No, not the ghost of Elvis. I ran into this guy. Like you’re surprised. Maybe you are, maybe you didn't believe in the "pee buddy". Well, it's true. So anyway, there he is waiting for me at the urinal. So I sidle up beside him to do my business. As I mentioned previously, it's not just the fact that I always see this guy that annoys me; it's the conversations in which he forces me to take part.

So on this day, instead of going over the trivialities of my job or the possible change in the weather, he decides to go on a far more perilous route. On this day, he had come up with the mother of all statements that will not only goad me into a conversation in the one place I wish to least have a conversation, but might have me following him back to his cube to finish. Here's what he said:

It's Wednesday.

You are so jealous of my life right now.

The Response

Oddly enough, someone at Relevant actually read my email and replied. And whoever did is some sort of diabolical genius. The email:

>>> "Relevant Feedback" 10/05/05 11:03 AM >>>
Hey Jason,

I appreciate your thoughts, and it's never easy when we attempt to cover something that is so sensitive as politics and other similar agendas.

You seem to be well-educated on these issues and a good writer as well. If you ever want to write an article for the website discussing politics and Christianity that would be great. It has to be more journalistic than rant, but okay to have a personal emotion linked to it.

Check our guidelines page at www.relevantmagazine.com/editorial and send the article to somesuch@relevantmediagroup.com

Best,
won

Note only does he/she (not sure) heap compliments on me, he suggests that my email showed such talent that I should submit something to the publication. By that point I'm too busy thinking of my new career in print media to stay mad at that little 'ole magazine. That part about the rant is troubling, though. That's like asking me to come play ball but not to bring my glove, but anyway. Of course, they probably ask everyone to write an article...

Oh God, there he goes again

In it's latest issue, Relevant magazine produces a list of "12 Visionaries Who Are Impacting Culture Through Faith - Whether it's in the Church, the music industry or Hollywood, these 12 are all playing a unique role of affecting our worldview." Well, one of the those was Jim Wallis, remember him? No? Go here, here, or most likely here. Anyway here's my letter to Relevant:

I'm writing to express my disappointment with the inclusion of Jim Wallis on such a list. Having been a subscriber since day one (actually I think I subscribed about 9 months before the first issue was released), I've seen this publication bend over backwards to the point of absurdity not to support a political party or point of view. The preview to last year's presidential election comes immediately to mind. Since my attempts to read between the lines tell me we probably disagree on such topics, I was ok with such an attempt. Then, you go and do this.
I think most would agree that by dubbing someone a "visionary", your magazine grants him or her implicit support of their "movement". Your quick synopsis of Wallis stays conveniently vague. What most don't realize is that Mr. Wallis, through his organization and book, seeks to move our government to a dangerous place. That place would probably have a name with the word socialist in it somewhere. He also has no qualms with vilifying the sitting President and other political leaders with some fairly offensive comparisons.
All that to say...I really appreciate your magazine and it's mission. I appreciated it a lot more when it stayed out of politics.

The Dangers of Going with God

And I mean dangers. The LA Times reports on a "study" that 'looks at the correlation between levels of "popular religiosity" and various "quantifiable societal health" indicators in 18 prosperous democracies'. And it entitles it, "The dark side of faith." The problem it seems, though, is faith itself.

He found that the most religious democracies exhibited substantially higher degrees of social dysfunction than societies with larger percentages of atheists and agnostics.

Indeed. Go read the whole thing to get the full vomitous effect. But here's what the editor's (not the study's, the newspaper's) conclusion comes down to:

My prediction is that right-wing evangelicals will do their best to discredit Paul's substantive findings. But when they fail, they'll just shrug: So what if highly religious societies have more murders and disease than less religious societies? Remember the trials of Job? God likes to test the faithful.
To the truly nonrational, even evidence that on its face undermines your beliefs can be twisted to support them. Absolutism means never having to say you're sorry.

Red-stater Christians love to murder and spread disease. Got it.

Luckily for my sanity, today I also ran across this story about a man who might have earned the title "great".

Rutherford Aris is a scientist of dazzling brilliance -- a chemical engineer whose mathematical models revolutionized his field -- and a deeply devout Christian.

..."He prayed with me, opened his home to me and showed me the compatibility of faith and reason," Lauffenburger said. Aris' ideal was the servant leader of 1 Corinthians 9:19: "So though I am not the slave of any man, I have made myself the slave of everyone so as to win as many as I could."

..."He left his mark on us and cast his shadow on us in an almost haunting way."

Go read the whole thing to get the full restored-faith-in-humanity effect.

The paper of record

Many of you may already know of my extreme disdain for the New York Times and the fact that people still actually give credence to what they publish. Well, just so you can rest assured that they love the Bible as much as you or me, this entry in the corrections section from today.

The About New York column yesterday, about an imagined conversation with God at a Manhattan diner, referred incorrectly to the Bible to which the thickness of the menu was likened. It is the King James Version, not St. James.

Odd, I thought everyone always went with the Ryrie Bible when making the "that thing is a thick as..." joke. Screw me. How can I argue with the "paper of record?" (HT - Powerline)