I’ve often found myself describing my religious affiliation to others as “recovering fundamentalist.” In the liberal circles I travel in, this is usually met by laughter, smirks, and nods of appreciation.
Yet in every group there seem to be a few who have left their previous fundamentalist beliefs behind but are hostile to that personal history—sometimes ancient history—in a way that is virulently anti-fundamentalist. They hate fundamentalism and fundamentalists. And they always have an argument on hand to “prove” they are better than their ideological foe.
Off hand this is certainly understandable. I have been at pains to describe exactly what it is that I find so wrong about this stance. I too hate fundamentalism. (And certain fundamentalists, when I’m not pretending to be nice.) I too am quite certain that I’ve moved beyond that stage in my life. How are we different?
It may be difficult for those who have not lived in fundamentalist circles to understand the uniqueness of that experience. It is not merely a matter of changing beliefs, as though you have gone from being a conservative Republican to a moderate Democrat. It does not resemble the brainwashing of cult groups, which are much more isolated and controlling than a fundamentalist church. Click to continue reading “Dry fundamentalists”
Monty Python’s Terry Jones is understandably concerned that he doesn’t know where his son goes after choir practice; after all, “he might be going to anarchist meetings or Islamic study groups.” Confused about what to do about his quandry, Jones is applying Rumsfeld’s understanding of what torture is and isn’t to his problematic family situation:
What this means in understandable English is that if a parent, in his anxiety to know where his son goes after choir practice, does something that will cause severe pain to his son, it is only “torture” if the causing of that severe pain is his objective. If his objective is something else — such as finding out where his son goes after choir practice — then it is not torture.
Having yet to persuade his son to divulge his secret whereabouts after choir practice, Jones intends to follow the Rumsfeld model still more intentionally:
So I’m going to round up all the children in the neighborhood, chain them and set dogs on them. I might accidentally kill one or two — but I won’t have intended to — and perhaps I’ll take some photos of my wife standing on the dead bodies, and then I’ll show the photos to the other kids, and finally, perhaps, I might get to find out where my son goes after choir practice. After all, I’ll only be doing what the US administration has been condoning since 9/11.
(Hat tip to Wood S Lot.)
I thought picketing robots were the cutting edge of protest these days. But it turns out I was wrong. Gives a whole new meaning to “circle jerk.”
You know what people like? Small furry rodents with fuzzy tails. You know, squirrels, hamsters, rabbits, that sort of thing. They eat that shit up. We need to get us some of them dancing squirrels too. Then we’ll be selling t-shirts like they’re hot cakes, I tell you what. You mark my words: people will hand over a dollar to see a singing, dancing badger any day of the week. (You? Not so much.)
Squirrels need religion too. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
It’s here! Earlier today the era of civilian space travel finally arrived. Now that we know it can be done without NASA, the costs will start coming down as competing methods vie for customers. Who knows? Maybe I’ll get up there someday myself.
