The digital age is weird – twenty years ago, organizing a few thousand photographs was a daunting project that could take hours to do right. Today, I have been reorganizing 61,000 digital photos, or, rather, the computer is organizing them while I do something else. When it finishes after a day's worth of work, it will have my photos far better organized than I would have had I spent exponentially more time doing so by hand. I wish it would hurry up.
The truth is I liked Tiger too much. I liked his youth, his ethnicity, his arrogance. Call me one who simply favors a front-runner, but I like excellence. At the least, I admire dominant athletes and teams as much as I hate them.
A truly gorgeous Easter has just passed, one that meant more to me than previous Easters have, for reasons I’ll not go into here. As is customary, Holy Week television included lots of programming on the subject, much of it speculative “scientific” debunking of various religious traditions, some inspired by the best-selling heretical drivel of the novelist Dan Brown. The tone of this stuff is so consistent that I was truly surprised by a History Channel program about the Shroud of Turin.
With the release of the iPad, the e-reader market dominated by Amazon’s Kindle for the last few years has been shaken up. Curiously, the Kindle’s maker has done little to respond to the new threat, bringing a cloud over the current frontrunner’s future. That’s a shame, since a handful of changes would go along way to keeping the Kindle relevant in an iPad world.
Earl Coen stopped by the other day. The pump in the aeration system had been misbehaving and Earl knows motors and pumps about as well as anyone you’ll find, so hereabouts he’s the man to call.
Late last year, I considered what was wrong with approaching Christianity from a Western, Aristotelean perspective (part 1, part 2). It is not as if we have to completely ditch the legacy of Aristotle. We simply have to put it in its proper place. In our minds, we must recognize there is a limit, a wall.
My old German grandmother used to call it “schnitlau,” though I’ve never seen the word used elsewhere. It was her name for the small wild onions that grew all over the place on our little farm — the same ones that grow all over the place hereabouts.
Connie Stevens was furious. She had been summoned from a firm-wide meeting by her son’s teacher. She naturally asked if the face-to-face meeting could wait, and was told instead that she should come immediately to meet, and remove, Peter from school for the day. What could he have done? She willed herself to recite “the prayers,” in the hope of escaping irrational anger at her son, the teacher, and the world.
You’ve probably seen it: A movie or television drama that depicts news coverage of some anticipated disaster. It might be an alien invasion, or a nuclear attack, a volcano, an approaching asteroid, or — a tsunami.
We all know the word association game: I say a word or name and you respond with the first thing that comes to mind. Let’s try one. I say Mark McGwire. You respond with steroids, cheater, or liar. See you got the idea. Do you remember when your answers were that of a different tune?