Fitted Sheets Are From The Devil

Okay, so maybe that's putting it a bit too strongly. But, good grief, I can't stand folding them. I can't even stand the thought of folding them. Just writing about folding them gives me the willies. Just writing about thinking about folding them makes me want to sit down and compose myself. Honestly, the prospect of folding fitted sheets is what keeps my sheets on the bed a week longer than they ought to be.

I've got a fitted sheet laying (or lying? No, sheets don't lie, they lay) laughing at me from atop my made bed. (Yes, mom, I made my bed today. Aren't you proud of your son--and of yourself?) What do I do to tame this raucous monster, this corner-bunched pile of unmanageable fabric? I do what anyone with an internet connection would do: I Google it.*
And I find these supposedly helpful directions:

Difficulty: Easy
Time Required: 5 minutes

1. Slip your hand into 2 top corners of the sheet.
2. With one hand inside each of the top 2 corners, fold the sheet (right sides together). Slip each of the top corners into one of the bottom corners.
3. Lay sheet on bed or table. Arrange and fold the corners neatly. Turn in selvage edges enough to make 4 straight sides.
4. Fold in half, then in half again. (All four corners will be stacked together, and sheet will be in a long strip.
5. Then fold the long strip in half, then in half (or thirds, depending on the size of the sheet) again to make a square.
6. Sheet should be a compact, neat square.
7. Smooth and place on shelf.

Difficulty: Easy. Time Required: 5 minutes. So far, so good. But then I get to Step 1. What do I do? Do I put one hand into both of the top two corners, or do I put one hand into one of the top corners and the other hand into the other top corner? It takes me nearly five minutes to figure out what the heck this step is requiring of me. I decide to go to Step 2 for clarification, and, lo! I get it: apparently, I'm supposed to put one hand into two corners. But how do I do that, at least without already folding it with right sides together? What appear to be distinct directions seem to me to be describing the same action. And, per Step 3, what in the world is a selvage edge?! Sheesh, I'm not going to satisfy my curiosity by looking that up on the internet.

But I soldier on, only to find another incomprehensible command (at least to this practically-impaired philosopher) in Step 2: slip each of the top corners that at the moment possess my hand into one of the bottom corners. Huh? What about the other bottom corner? Well, they're supposedly together at this point, so I guess it doesn't matter which one I choose. But if I put them into a bottom corner, the ends won't be lined up, will they? Was I supposed to have the sheet inside out the whole time? Do I have to start over now? It's taken me 20 minutes just to figure out what I'm being asked to do. Ack! Martha Stewart, HELP!

Well, here's what Martha has to say:

1. Hold the sheet widthwise and point your index fingers into the corners of the sheet.
2. Bring your fingertips together and match them exactly.
3. Turn one of the sheet corners over the other.
4. Put the sheet on a flat surface.
5. Turn the corners on the bottom over.
6. Fold the sheet into a rectangle.
7. Continue to fold until the sheet is the size you want it to be.

So, with Step 1, do I point (I'm guessing this means "put") my index fingers into all of the corners, or just the top corners? Well, since I've only got two index fingers, I'll go with the latter. Step 2, no problem. But Step 3: which corners is she referring to, here? And what does it mean to turn a corner over another if, per Step 2, they're already together? Do I stuff one inside the other? I'm outta here.

Now, I have to admit, at this point I haven't actually attempted to carry out these directions. I've only conceptualized them, turned them around in my head, played them as a movie in my brain. But males are supposed to be good at conceptualizing the manipulation of objects in space. What's the deal? Well, the manipulation of objects in space presupposes, at some level, adequate familiarity and experience with said objects, so perhaps I haven't had the requisite experience of fooling around with fitted sheets. I'll accept that.

But, I'm not satisfied. So, I continue my search and find a set of directions that, for whatever reason, make sense to me in both the abstract and in practice:

Difficulty: Easy

1. Wash and dry your sheets before folding and storing them.
2. Remove sheets from dryer while they are still warm so that they do not wrinkle. If the sheets are already cool, put them back in the dryer with a moist cloth for a couple of minutes.
3. Put your right hand in the right top corner of the sheet, and fold the left top corner of the sheet over your right hand.
4. Keep holding the sheet with your right hand and gather up a bottom corner, folding it over the right hand as well.
5. Take the remaining corner and fold it over your right hand. Fold the sheet into a square, then continue folding in half until you have reached the desired size.

Skipping Steps 1 and 2 (because I've already got them covered, not because I'm in the habit of folding dirty sheets), and already jaded by the difficulty level stated by the first set of directions, I find some clear (to me) directions. "Keep holding the sheet with your right hand...." Yes! I can conceptualize that. That makes sense. I know what to do with the sheet and with what hand to do it. I try it. It's working! I improvise, inserting Step 3 of the first set of directions and Step 4 of Martha's into Step 5 of the present ones, and I'm golden, Pony Boy.

Thank you, Google. Thank you.

* My students would eat me for breakfast if they knew I used "Google" as a verb.

I was driving down Milledge Ave heading to Kathryn's, windows down, music enveloping me (and occasionally leaking out the windows), and came to a stop at the light in front of the Varsity. A car in the turn lane pulled up on my left, windows down but no music leaking out. What I heard from the car was, "S'cuse me, sir." Being addressed such by someone in a car next to you is not a frequent occurrence (at least for me), but I had been addressed this way twice in the past couple of weeks by strangers looking for directions, though I was in those cases a pedestrian. So, I thought maybe I was once again being asked for directions and fumbled to put the iPod on pause and address my interlocuters. I looked over at a pair of black guys in their mid to late 20s or so, the driver in dreds, and made some noise like "Yeah" to indicate I was open for business.

"S'cuse me, sir," said the passenger, "do you have any Grey Poupon?"

I stared at them for about half a second to process the immensely ridiculous nature of the situation. In the famous commercial, this same transaction took place between two old rich guys in Rolls Royces. Here, we've got (relatively) young, middle class yahoos in Athens, GA driving Japanese compact cars. Having decided that they weren't making fun of me, I busted out laughing, as did they. I felt a special bond between us: they made a silly joke, and I got it. What a couple of geniuses.

How To Be A Good Husband (In Japan)

Caught this gem in the weekly News of the Weird email:

On January 31, several hundred Japanese husbands recognized the second annual "Beloved Wives Day" to upgrade Japanese men's notorious, deeply-ingrained indifference to their spouses. Among the husbands' vows: be home from work by the unusually-early hour of 8 p.m.; actually look into the missus's eyes and say "thank you"; and try to remember to call her by her name (instead of, as many apparently do in substitution, grunting at her). [Taipei Times-AP, 2-1-07]

Quite Alarming

I got out of my car at my apartment back door; the car windows were down. Out of habit, I locked the car doors with the little key chain thingy, and then went inside the apartment kitchen to get some food to put in the car. When I came out with hot dish in hand, I needed to unlock the car door, so I stuck my hand in the car to unlock it manually. I flipped the switch on the door console, and what happened? An alarm went off. I didn't even know the car had an alarm. I was so startled, I nearly dropped the dish. Lucky for me, I'm a man of composure (HA!), so no harm done. And at least now I know that I've got a car alarm.

Flotsam and Jetsam

Last day of classes is next Monday. Tons of grading to do til then, but with Kathryn out of town until tomorrow, hopefully I won't goof off too much and will get most of it done. That is, if I don't go see another movie like I did yesterday afternoon.

I saw Fracture and enjoyed it. Not a great film, but a good one. Hopkins did a good job playing another intelligent, calculating, psychologically tilted character. I liked Ryan Gosling in it, too, actually. I like his slur.

Cool Hand Luke is playing at a local bar Monday night. Now that's a great film.

My Existentialism class asked me what we would be doing on Monday, our last day. I told them that I would answer the question, "What is existentialism?" They laughed. I don't know if they were making fun of me or if they thought I was kidding. Either way, at least I made them laugh.

I got a really nice email today from a student in my intro to philosophy class. She was wary about taking the class at first, but turned out to really enjoy it. "I was never a deep thinker, but your enthusiasm throughout the semester encouraged me to ponder the subjects we discussed." Sweet. That's what I like to hear. "I just wanted to take the time to thank you and tell you that you made a positive impact on me." Now, I've never heard that before, but I think I appreciated this comment more than another other the student made. Awww.

Last week on the walk from my apartment to work, I spied a squirrel carrying a whole donut in its mouth. That's right, a whole donut. The little critter didn't even try to break it up in pieces before it headed for the tree.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that I gave the keynote speech for the Phi Kappa Literary Society banquet last Saturday night. I'm making sound much more important than it really was--I mean, the speech was only 10 minutes long, if that. But it was quite an honor to be asked to do it, and they seemed to enjoy it, which really was the point of the speech anyway. Plus Kathryn and I got a free meal out of it and got to dress up for an evening out. Unfortunately, we didn't think about getting a dress-up picture taken until after the fact.

Did You Know...?

The best way to check for bad breath, besides having someone else tell you about it, is to lick the back of your hand and smell it. If it smells bad, so does your breath.

I can now say that my work has been read in a University of Chicago grad seminar.

A former student here at UGA, Sonam, is at U Chicago doing grad work, and they've been reading some goodies by and about John McDowell, a philosopher who I dealt with at some length in my dissertation and who was the subject of my (only) published article. A few weeks ago, Sonam asked for a copy of the article, which I was only too glad to send along. But I didn't think it would make it to his seminar class.

My dissertation advisor, who was also Sonam's undergrad advisor, just told me today that Sonam made a suggestion to his professor that they read my article, which they then spent a week discussing. The U Chicago professor's assessment? It was the clearest thing they had read all semester! Granted, I don't know what they read up to that point, and the semester is only a little more than half over, but it made me feel good about my work, anyway. Heck, I'll take whatever small praise that I can get at this point. Perhaps there is hope for me yet.

Now all I have to do is get McDowell himself to pass off on it, and I'm good! But in order to do that, I first need to send him a copy. Will I have the huevos to do it? We'll see...

How can you train honeybees to sniff for bombs?. The "Stealthy Insect Sensor Project"? You mean, we're paying money for this?!

This is what NASA is (read, we are) paying them over at Georgia Tech to do: Spy flies. Interestingly, the same group, the Defense Advanced Projects Research Agency (DARPA) is involved in both of these insect projects.

My Shure Earphones

A while back I bought some Shure earphones on eBay (the E2c Sound Isolating Earphones). I don't remember exactly how much they were, somewhere in the $40 - $60 range; the point is simply that they were expensive, relative to my niggardly nature (read, cheap self). How could I possibly justify spending that much money on a pair of earphones? I wondered that, too, even in light of the rave reviews by EJ. But any question of justification was duly answered once I got them. Worth every single penny I spent...and then some. These are the most comfortable, incredible sound quality earphones I have ever had--and likely ever will have in this price range. Truly amazing. Listening to one audiobook, I could ever-so-slightly hear the pages being turned, the hazy sound of the reader's phone ringing. Few sounds escape them. Few sounds disturb them. Just thought you'd like to know.

Bitter Woman Story

The Background: Grubbs and I are meeting for lunch at the local Jamaican eatery, Kelly's Jerk. Kelly's is nestled at the end of a row of businesses in a small store-front shopping center. I see no parking spaces in front of Kelly's.

The Action: So, I park in front of the Smoke 'n' Choke. I see no signs to the effect that I am forbidden to park there if I am not a customer. But, of course, this does not stop a bitter woman from coming out to so forbid me. In a rather rude manner, I might add. Little did I know that there were two other customers already in Kelly's who had been similarly accosted by this woman, jealous for the empty spaces in front of her business. At first, I was perfectly willing to move my car, understanding her concern. But when she starts in with "Move your f***ing car somewhere else" and other tidbits of grating hostility, whatever understanding I had quickly left.

"A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger" (Prov. 15:1). Bristling at her tone, I tell her to settle down and stop her bitching. But, of course, it was all in vain; it was not a gentle answer. For some reason, she begins hypothesizing about the diminutive size of certain members of my body. This makes me laugh. She claims that using the word "bitch" gives me courage to stand up to her. I want to enter into a discussion of the difference between a noun and a gerund, but instead I laugh again. She must have really liked that word, since whenever she didn't have anything else to say, she would simply strike out with it. I pause in my thoughts: I want to add another, larger piercing--roughly the size of my fist--to her face, but instead I say that she could be nicer about asking me to move. I forget the Teacher's wise words, "When there are many words, transgression is unavoidable, but he who restrains his lips is wise" (Prov. 10:19).

To my utter surprise, she defends herself here: I was being nice, she claims...and, ironically, this none too nicely. I'm sure that I knitted my brow, certain that I must have misunderstood. After a little discussion about what sorts of actions do not constitute "being nice," namely, hers, she then begins with the threats. "The mouth of the righteous is a fountain of life, but the mouth of the wicked conceals violence" (Prov. 10:11). She threatens towing, which I doubt she could enforce without the proper warning signs. But she does not stop here. She threatens to have my tires slashed. I am no longer smiling. This is no laughing matter. Visions of Molotov cocktails dance through my head. Some are aimed at her head. I decide this has gone far enough, so I do what I was completely willing to do in the first place: move my car. (At this point, spaces near Kelly's had opened up.) As I get into the car and pull away, she repeats her mantra: Bitch. I hope she was able to reach Nirvana with it, but somehow I doubt it.

At the door of Kelly's, I turn and she is still out there on the sidewalk, staring me down. I ask her if she's happy now. The last word I hear from her: Bitch.

The folks in Kelly's are laughing now. They, too, have Bitter Woman Stories to tell.

The Commentary: Two things were revealed to me, the kind of person she is and the kind of person I am. And, this is a crucial point, the two were not all that different. I was not a fountain of life. I was not turning away wrath. I was not being wise.

At least I have a story to tell.

Ahh, good ol' Athens. Eating a quarter of a jerk-spiced chicken, black-eyed peas, and some salmon-stuffed mushrooms for lunch while listening to The Stooges' Funhouse album being played over the restaurant's speakers.

The MacBook Is Here

Well, here I am sending the first blog on the new laptop. Uploading goodies to my course material online. Work and fun, and all from home! The MacBook barely picks up an open network somewhere close by, one that the desktop wireless USB modem couldn't keep hold of. But it picks it up, which saves me the hassle of heading to a coffee shop downtown to get online. Plus, I can't drink a beer at 4:00 in the afternoon at a coffee shop.

The trackpad on this thing is really cool. You can set it up to do the expected trackpad stuff: highlight or click with one tap, double-click with two taps. But you can also set it up to right-click by tapping the pad with two fingers and scroll pages (either up and down, or side to side) by dragging two fingers across the pad. Very cool!

Now all I need to do is get a firewire cable to transfer files, setting, bookmarks, applications, etc. from the desktop and I'll be set.

i wish i knew why
left eye in the warm winter
parkinsons twitching

I still don't have internet access at home, so I imagine that I'll continue blogging more infrequently. That is, until/unless I get a laptop. I should probably get one anyway, this windowless fluorescent-lit dungeon of an office is just depressing. I feel the need to be mobile. The thing is, I don't know what kind of laptop to get. I've set my sights on a Mac (like my desktop), but now they've moved to Intel-based processors (not Windows OS, mind you!), so it seems reasonable to think that Power PC-based programs (which is what Macs have run on until the new processors) will become obsolete at some point, which means I should probably get a new one with the Intel processor, but since they're new they're also buggy and expensive, and I'll mainly be using it for word processing and email and blogging, etc. anyway so why not get a cheaper soon-to-be-outdated Powerbook (to match my outdated PowerMac desktop) rather than the new Macbook, except that the Macbooks are faster and maybe I want to do something more with it than email and word processing one day. Breathe. I love my Mac, but what would be wrong with getting a PC laptop, besides the inferior OS? It'd likely be cheaper and run just as fast/well, and since I use Microsoft Office for Mac, the files transfer easily between the Mac and PC OSs, and any music, etc. I downloaded or DVDs I burned wouldn't be a problem to put on my Mac from the PC. Breathe. Sigh.

I've been playing around with my Google homepage lately. There are literally hundreds of little things (calendars, games, news, sports, etc.) you can insert into your homepage. But, at the risk of cluttering up one page, you can have multiple pages accessed through tabs. Pretty cool. One of the things I added to my page was a section from the How Stuff Works website. Yesterday was a pretty interesting article "How Hangovers Work." Today there is a nice article on "How Beer Works." They've got a few videos of the owner of the Brick Store Pub in Decatur, GA -- a most excellent place to have a pint, BTW -- talking about beer-related topics.

Speaking of beer, I think I found a new old beer fridge. I've been rearranging a corner of my room for a space. I think it will work. Goodbye bottles! My kegs have gone missing for long enough.

Yes, I saw the poor-quality cell phone video of Saddam's hanging. Now that's swift justice, my friends.

Bad Brains (Rastafarians who started playing punk and reggae in the early 80s) is supposedly back in the studio and almost ready to unveil their first album in ten years or so. I lost interest as they leaned toward more reggae and even heavy metal after they're second album -- that, and they kept breaking up and reuniting all the time. Well, this latest album is supposed to go back to their hardcore punk roots. If they tour, I've absolutely got to see them. Beastie Boys' Adam Yauch is producing the album. No surprise there, really -- at least two Beastie Boys songs feature samples from Bad Brains.

Iggy & the Stooges are also coming out with a new album sometime this year. I got to see Iggy (solo) several years ago at the 40 Watt here in Athens. It'd be sweet to see the Stooges, too (minus the one who died a while back, of course), for another show.

The Cowboy Junkies will be taping and filming a concert at the Holy Trinity Church in Toronto to commemorate the 20th anniversary of The Trinity Sessions. And to make some more money off of a really good album.

I should be finishing my syllabi for classes next week, but instead I'm just filling my time and this space full of music and beer related crap. No more, my sweet. No more.

Yep, it's been a while. Like I said, I don't usually have blogging fever at the office. Come to think of it, I'm not sure I ever had blogging fever. But, then, I don't think as much as I need to.

I got a new car stereo last week and spent much longer than expected or desired to install it. Alas, 'tis the case with most any "big" project like that -- you've got to allow for the unexpected. What I definitely didn't expect was to break a part of the car. It wasn't serious, nothing that some super glue and a 24 hour set time (it wasn't the brand, so it's not being capitalized) couldn't handle. The directions I got from Crutchfield (a great business to get some gear from -- they give pretty good directions, great customer service, and lots of freebies for self installations) weren't exact enough to the year of my car model. It's a 2000 model, but the directions were only specific to 2001 and 2002. Go figure. Anyway, not to bore with details, I got the stereo in, put humpty back together again, and am now zipping through my iPod artists and albums with the car receiver. It's not super quick and it always starts back at the A's, but I'm enjoying it so far. We'll have to see how it does on the trip home for Christmas holidays. I bought some speakers, too, but I'm afraid I'll break something else on the car.

Finals was last week. Grading is now. I took a couple of days off at the end of the week to run errands, install the stereo, etc., so I didn't get much grading done. It started up yesterday and will likely continue until the bell tomorrow evening. Then it's off to a session meeting at church to see if they'll let me teach a philosophy class for Redeemer folks (and whoever else wants to come) starting in January. For some reason I think it's a go, especially since people I haven't said anything about it to are asking me when I'm doing it (not if I'm doing it). I only told two people, for crying out loud.

I was watching a bit of NFL this afternoon. During one of the spots (on a football player or some such), Jane's Addiction "Mountain Song" was playing in the background. That song was the reason I bought Nothing's Shocking. Very nice.

Scott sent me this article from the New Yorker about Bible publishing. Still the highest selling book every year. But, as the article suggests (but doesn't make a point of criticism), it shouldn't come as that much of a surprise given the insane target marketing the Bible publishers engage in. Have you ever gone to CBD online and browsed through all of the different kinds of Bibles there are? And I'm not just talking hardcover or softcover, leather bound or paperback, NKJV or NIV. I'm talking the Extreme Teen Bible, or Revolve: The New Testament for Girls (made to look like a friggin' teen magazine, for crying out loud), or the Message Bible Remix, or the Chicken Soup for the Soul Bible, or the Men of Integrity Devotional Bible, or God knows what other ways of re-packaging Scripture people have thought of. I'm not sure exactly why, but it kinda disgusts me. It's not so much the "life applications" focus that they bring; we need that, and it will surely be different for different kinds of people. It's probably more the dumbing down that so often goes with making the Bible more marketable -- making it accessible, easy to read, un-daunting, not embarrassing to carry around, uncomplicated, etc. There's a certain lack of center when you've got so many different "versions" (which, unfortunately, needs to be in scare quotes) of Scripture out there. And a certain lack of rolling up the ol' hermeneutical sleeves with centuries of theological tradition and knowledge at one's fingertips.

Say, that reminds me. The TV told me the other day about kids who like to listen to sermons on their iPods ... instead of going to church. As long as they're getting the sermon. Sheesh. As if that's the only redeeming part of the worship service. Pun most certainly intended. But can the Church at large defend itself against this? I'm not sure the Church is at a point where she takes the worship service itself seriously enough to be able to.

There is a point at which the thoughts on Bible marketing and current debate about styles of worship come together: both tend to be about the target audience. There is an analogy here. I'm just not sure how good it is. We don't have a big organ, pews, or even hymnals at our church (though, thanks be to God, we don't have a projector full of praise songs). Why? Because when it started, the church wanted to reach a different kind of person in Athens, one who probably wouldn't like any of that. We have piano, guitars, strings, sometimes a mandolin, banjo, or pedal steel. Why? Because when it started, the church wanted to reach the kind of person who would probably like that. The structure of our service is straight-forwardly traditional (which, in this case, is a good thing IMO), but the trappings are different than traditional services. Is this analogous to a Bible where the language is paraphrased into the vernacular and that is full of all sorts of goodies that dazzle the eyes and tickle the ears of target audience member X? If I am disgusted by Revolve, should I also be disgusted by our worship service? Perhaps. Perhaps I am simply inconsistent on this point. I'll have to think about it later. Right now there is grading to be done.

Dexter

I have been thoroughly enjoying a new Showtime original, "Dexter." The main character, Dexter, is Hannibal Lecter meets Dirty Harry as a blood-spatter forensics expert in the Miami PD who moonlights as a serial killer. Far from being unoriginal or simply an amalgamation of past film and literary characters (as my references might suggest), I find the show to be intriguing, well-written, and well-acted. Well, well-acted by the main character, anyway. At least one of the supporting actors, Dexter's whiny, insecure, and total-lack-of-confidence-or-ability sister, could use some help.

One of the more intriguing and original elements in the show is Dexter's background. You'd think that, as a serial killer, a depraved, abusive homelife would have been rather instrumental in making him the monster that we might think he is. But, although he grew up in a foster home, he had a great homelife with loving foster parents. And he's not exactly a monster, which, in Tarantino-like fashion, makes you recoil a bit at liking the guy. His foster father, a Miami PD cop himself, recognized in young Dexter a certain emotion Stoicism and an urge to kill things. But rather than give up on him, his father decided that these urges, which seem (and are) rather heinous, could be channeled for some "good." He taught Dexter to play along with societal demands to fit in, to cover his tracks so that he wouldn't get caught, and to set his serial killer sights on those who, as his father routinely witnessed, fell through the hands of justice.

Dexter plays a bad guy who acts as a good guy by killing the bad guys that the good guys can't catch. One of the things that fascinates me about his character is how good he is at it and how likable he is. It's like watching a heist film, along the lines of, say, Ocean's Eleven, where the bad guys do such a good job of stealing money from other bad guys that you can't help but admire them. And, like Ocean's Eleven or Pulp Fiction, the bad guys are just funny enough, just human enough, that you end up rooting for them in some strangely perverted way.

Philosophy Lectures

A couple of events in the past few days got me thinking about the potential impact whatever meager philosophical knowledge I've managed to accumulate over the years could have outside the classroom. One of them, the more significant of the two, sparked some mental coals that were fired up in my mind a while back by other events and ruminations but that have since grown cold.

One of the while-back events was a talk I gave for the worldview lecture series that UGA's RUF started. I don't know if it was what they wanted, but in my preparation I ran across a talk given by Alvin Plantinga, a well-reknowned philosopher who also happens to be a Reformed Christian, who suggested that as Christian philosophers we should seek to use our gifts (whatever they may be) to serve the Christian community. Not long prior to this, the associate pastor of my church asked if I'd be willing to do a semester-long series of philosophy lectures for those among the congregation who might be interested. Not having any idea what I'd do for such a thing, I put it on the back burner. Actually, I think I took it off the stove. I've thought some about it since then, but it usually gets interrupted by more immediately pressing things like lectures for classes, exam grading, and online poker.

This afternoon I was talking with Carrie about a course on the history of Christian thought that she's taking in the religion department from a professor who keeps bringing up philosophical background to many of the theological positions they are discussing. Not having a philosophy background, or having forgotten things that she once learned, we talked about it a bit and I gave her some things to read. We mainly talked about some of the major philosophical background to much of what was going on in theology during the Middle Ages. Then it struck me: maybe THAT'S what I could do a lecture series on. As Reformed, we consistently turn to the theologians of the 16th century as authorities and guides to how we think about theology. First part: trace the major philosophical influences from the Greeks through the late Middle Ages/early Enlightenment period. Second part: trace the major philosophical developments from the Enlightenment to today, noting how 16th century thought could inform responses to these developments. In fact, a couple of months ago a friend from church suggested something very close to this for a lecture series. Not knowing how much longer I'll be in Athens, perhaps I'll do it next semester.

The second recent event was an email from a former student. She's on the committee of a new, and the only, residential college at UGA (basically, a group of students that want to beef up their college experience) that sets up something they call the Dean's Tea Lecture series. Well, she wants me to come give a talk at one of their dean's teas. Should I do it? Who knows, it might be fun. What do I talk about? Beats me. "Talk about anything you want," her words. Not much guidance there. Talk about philosophy? About "Lost"? How about "Lost" and philosophy? That'd be pretty cool, no? Or how to play AKs from the small blind when you're short-stacked at a five person table with a raise and re-raise in front of you? Nah, probably not. It should probably be something with a significant degree of intellectual stimulation and an (somewhat) academic context. For some reason I'm leaning toward some sort of cultural application--movies, books, TV shows. Would that be a waste of their time (and, therefore, mine)? Philosophy and Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, how his Christian philosophy is reflected in his work? Give me some ideas, people.

Leeeerrroooooy Jeeeeennkiiiiiins!

Jeff showed me this clip a while back. It had me crying from laughing so hard then; it does now. For any of you who have ever played a multi-player computer game, especially if you've played one over the internet, this is choice stuff. Instead of posting the video, I'll send you to the Warcraft Leeroy Jenkins site, where you can check it out.

According to this Wikipedia article, the video was admittedly staged. But that didn't stop it from becoming the internet meme it did. What makes it so timeless is how it reflects the serious study that a group of people could give to something like a video game--tactics, strategy, planning--and our (probably largely correct) picture of pasty-white geeks sitting around computer consoles with headsets on in hour number five of online play. And, then, there's Leeroy Jenkins. "Let's do this." Less talking and more action. A character in a game, but a battle cry against those who spend half their days in front of the game. A classic contrast between one who plans for an action to such an extent that the planning itself prevents the action it is intended to produce and one who acts with insufficient planning or preparation, letting the chips fall where they may.

This became such an internet meme, it even made it on a "Jeopardy!" question:

Hey, That Bum's Wearing My T-Shirt!

It finally happened. After years of sending old clothes off to The Potter's House (local thrift store), I saw one of my t-shirts sported by a dumster diver at my old apartment complex. How do I know it was one of mine? The odds are incredibly slim that there would be another CSF (Christian Student Fellowship) shirt from the University of Louisiana-Monroe/Louisiana Tech with a quote from C. Gregg Singer on the back circulating in Athens. The diver also made out with my frying pan, silver tin (in which he was going to put his radio), and who knows what else. My contribution to the Athens community.

Tattoo You

No, not the Stones album. I had another conversation about tattoos yesterday and was asked (once again) whether or not I'd ever get one. Not being absolutely certain that I'd NEVER get one, I'm reasonable certain that I wouldn't. And it is this lack of absolute certainty that plays a role in why I don't think I'll ever get one.

My gut reaction is to be wary of inking my body in a way that, for all practical purposes, is permanent. But that can't be the whole story, for we do things all the time to our bodies that will likely have negative permanent effects and we rarely think twice about it (although tattooing is sufficiently and relevantly unlike a bad diet or lack of exercise in a number of ways to make that argument by analogy really fly). Part of the story has got to involve the permanence issue, which I think ties into the importance issue. Whatever piece of artwork I get inked on my body has got to symbolize something of the utmost importance to me and also symbolize something that enjoys the same characteristic of permanence as the tattoo itself. That there is neither nor would ever be something important and permanent enough to warrant a tattoo used to be the end of the story for me. But surely there is something that has those characteristics or that would someday have them. For instance, the discussion yesterday included a line of reasoning that matched up the symbolism in the tattoo with the person's relationship with God. Surely that is something that I believe is of the utmost importance and is permanent.

Yet I still don't think I'd ever get one because I am often so fickle in my tastes. Whatever I thought was once cool or profound in its aesthetic and semiotic nature when I got it inked on my body I might very well think foolish or kitsch later. Although I am assured that the LORD will never forsake me, I am not assured of my own attitude towards whatever piece of artwork I might choose to signify that. The sign of baptism is good enough for me at this point.

But even so, one of the interesting things I thought of from yesterday's conversation was the potential evangelistic role that tattoos could play. You can't actually see that I've been baptized, that I've been marked and set apart by God, but you could see a tattoo that signified the same thing. You could ask me about the tattoo. It would afford an opportunity to speak plainly and unobtrusively of the justice and mercy of God--after all, YOU're the one who asked ME about it. Of course, the tattoo would need to be in a conspicuous place. If it were covered up, its principal role would be simply a personal reminder, a permanent memorial to self, but why would you need an expensive piece of body art to be reminded of that?

So, what are the roles of tattoos? What functions do they perform? To publicly disclose something about ourselves? To communicate ideas? It would seem that a visible (at least to someone at some time) symbol would have to presuppose some level of intention to communicate, of some intention to disclose.

Anyway, I've got to get something to eat. And to start my Tattoo Ministry to Athens.