You should know that, albeit early in the life of this august organ, The Referee is beginning to have an influence in the upper echelons of US society, including none other than the Supreme Court. (You should also know that The Referee occasionally likes to refer to himself in the third person, like boxers and dictators.)
Anyway, returning to the first person, for fear of being tedious (heaven forbid!), I explained in my message of 25 November why I think the age-old argument between evolutionists and creationists is a huge waste of effort based on a false premise - ie that mainstream scientific and religious views on the origin of things are necessarily contradictory.
Well, it is now clear, on the balance of probabilities, although not necessarily beyond reasonable doubt, that that message was taken to heart by one Judge John Jones III (a Republican, by the way, appointed to the Supreme Court by President Bush). Just before the start of the "holiday vacation", Judge Jones delivered his ruling in the leading case of Kitzmiller et al v Dover. (Tammy Kitzmiller is one of the parents who challenged the local school board on the basis that teaching "intelligent design" was unconstitutional, in the sense of muddling Church and State; and Dover is the small town in Philadelphia where the (Republican) school board attempted to introduce intelligent design into science classes and was subsequently ousted at the recent local elections in favour of an entirely new (Democratic) school board (in a traditionally Republican-voting area) which swifty reversed the policy.)
If you will permit me (and even if you won't) I think that a section of Judge Jones' ruling bears setting out verbatim here. He says this: "Both defendants and many of the leading proponents of I.D. make a bedrock assumption which is utterly false. Their presupposition is that evolutionary theory is antithetical to a belief in the existence of a supreme being and to religion in general. Repeatedly in this trial, plaintiffs' scientific experts testified that the theory of evolution represents good science, is overwhelmingly accepted by the scientific community, and that it in no way conflicts with, nor does it deny, the existence of a divine creator."
I'm sure you will agree that there is little doubt that that passage was written in the light of The Referee's message of 25 November (or 11/25 as it is known here).
Just think of the potential benefits which could be unleashed if creationists and evolutionists would stop fighting a battle which doesn't need to be fought. For a start, those of us with a religious bent would save a huge amount of time and effort which could be put to much better use. Helping the poor and needy, for example. Just a thought!
Happy holidays.
Monday, December 26, 2005
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
'Twas the Night Before a Holiday
How can you spot a conservative (small "c")? He (or she, these days) is the person who can't utter the phrase "political correctness" without immediately following up with the words "gone mad", in a sort of involuntary Pavlovian response. (Which reminds me, when Pavlov invented the pavlova, what was that a response to?)
Anyway, if, like me, you like to think of yourself as a modern, progressive, lover of all things PC, try living in the US in the build-up to what used to be called Christmas, and you will soon be cured of all your ills. In other words, why oh why, if we mean "Christmas" can't we say "Christmas"? And if we mean "Hannukah", why can't we say "Hannukah"? And if we mean "Eid", ...you get the picture.
Not here. Oh no. Over here, the done thing - for good honest PC reasons, you understand - is to get half way through a sentence and then forget which festival you were talking about. Then, in order to cover up your momentary lapse (as Pink Floyd might have had it), you say "holiday", in the hope that (i) no one will have noticed your stumble, and (ii) no one will have been offended, except of course for the people who wanted to follow what you were saying.
Of course, as soon as this sort of rot has set in, it becomes the norm which is followed forever after, in decreasing circles of illogic, by shopkeepers, signwriters and the designers of greetings cards. As a result, our lovely New York home is now decorated with "holiday lights" and "holiday cards", which we put up shortly after having returned from a session singing "holiday carols".
If you think I'm exaggerating, read on. Exhibit one. One of our kids has just received a letter from his art teacher about what the class will be doing next term. It starts - I'm not making this up - "After our holiday vacation...". Work that one out.
Exhibit two. Starbucks has just introduced two seasonal coffees, one called "Christmas blend" and the other called - wait for it - "Holiday blend". They do at least have the excuse of not being able to call them both the same thing, but what's wrong with, for example, "yuletide" - a lovely little word, now rather under-used, with the distinct advantage of being clearly linked to the topic at hand.
Exhibit three. Our guest wing (okay, room) is decorated with a sweet little picture of a reindeer, skipping through the snowflakes, with holly berries in his antlers, under the words "happy holidays". I wonder which holiday the little chap has in mind? Perhaps it's Easter.
Season's greetings!
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Turkey Pardoning Time
Fellow fans of the wonderful West Wing (that's what www stands for, right?) may remember a very funny scene in an early episode in which President Martin Sheen "pardons" a turkey from making a Thanksgiving sacrifice in a little ceremony at the White House. How we laughed at the silly and inventive script-writing! How on earth did they think that one up?, we wondered.
Well. Imagine the surprise in our house when preparations for our first Thanksgiving last week were interrupted by the news that turkey pardoning is not a script-writer's wheeze, but an actual tradition of actual Presidents.
In fact, on Tuesday 22 November - two days before Thanksgiving - President Bush and Vice President Cheney held a ceremony on a stage in the Eisenhower Executive Office Building, next door to the White House. They were joined by a gaggle of journalists, a class of visiting schoolchildren, and the chairman of the National Turkey Federation. In that esteemed company, the President pardoned a turkey named Marshmallow. How precisely he did so was not clear, although one imagines that the moment was mysterious and rather spiritual. An understudy turkey, named Yam, waiting in a van outside, was also pardoned, demonstrating that the President has long-distance pardoning powers.
However, as is so often the case regarding serious political matters such as this, controversy was not far behind. Pardoned turkeys have traditionally been sent off to somewhere called Frying Pan Park in Herndon, Virginia, where they have apparently tended not to last all that long, vis a vis this mortal coil. This year, the President announced that Marshallow and Yam did not fancy moving to Frying Pan Park; this was understandable, perhaps, but how he had established it was not entirely clear.
As an alternative, the two turkeys were sent - first class on United Airlines - to spend the rest of their days at Disneyland in California, where they took the roles of grand marshals in the Thanksgiving Day parade, before being moved to their new permanent home: an enclosure in Frontierland, near the entrance to Santa's Reindeer Roundup.
PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) said that previously pardoned turkeys had been badly treated at Frying Pan Park, where they looked "lonely and neglected", and sought to take some credit for the move to Disneyland. The National Turkey Federation were keen to point out that PETA had had no influence on the switch and suggested that if members of PETA believed otherwise they were "absolutely delusionsal". Oh, politics!
Well. Imagine the surprise in our house when preparations for our first Thanksgiving last week were interrupted by the news that turkey pardoning is not a script-writer's wheeze, but an actual tradition of actual Presidents.
In fact, on Tuesday 22 November - two days before Thanksgiving - President Bush and Vice President Cheney held a ceremony on a stage in the Eisenhower Executive Office Building, next door to the White House. They were joined by a gaggle of journalists, a class of visiting schoolchildren, and the chairman of the National Turkey Federation. In that esteemed company, the President pardoned a turkey named Marshmallow. How precisely he did so was not clear, although one imagines that the moment was mysterious and rather spiritual. An understudy turkey, named Yam, waiting in a van outside, was also pardoned, demonstrating that the President has long-distance pardoning powers.
However, as is so often the case regarding serious political matters such as this, controversy was not far behind. Pardoned turkeys have traditionally been sent off to somewhere called Frying Pan Park in Herndon, Virginia, where they have apparently tended not to last all that long, vis a vis this mortal coil. This year, the President announced that Marshallow and Yam did not fancy moving to Frying Pan Park; this was understandable, perhaps, but how he had established it was not entirely clear.
As an alternative, the two turkeys were sent - first class on United Airlines - to spend the rest of their days at Disneyland in California, where they took the roles of grand marshals in the Thanksgiving Day parade, before being moved to their new permanent home: an enclosure in Frontierland, near the entrance to Santa's Reindeer Roundup.
PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) said that previously pardoned turkeys had been badly treated at Frying Pan Park, where they looked "lonely and neglected", and sought to take some credit for the move to Disneyland. The National Turkey Federation were keen to point out that PETA had had no influence on the switch and suggested that if members of PETA believed otherwise they were "absolutely delusionsal". Oh, politics!
Friday, November 25, 2005
Pass the Monkey Glue
Certain towns in parts of the USA are currently gripped in fervent (and sometimes litigious) debate over a fascinating late entrant into the old creation versus evolution argument, namely "intelligent design". Having apparently sprung out of nowhere, without so much as a big bang, so to speak, this is a movement which claims there is a radical, alternative middle way.
For those who have not heard the case put by intelligent designers, it goes something like this: The natural world is so amazing and complicated that it cannot all have come about by chance (even over a very long time) and in any case some of the things out there suggest evidence of having been designed by an intelligent force. Proponents of this approach claim that it is based on scientific evidence. Many mainstream scientists argue that this new theory is based more on religious conviction than serious science.
School districts here have got themselves into a lather about whether to teach this theory alongside evolution. Some that have attempted to do so have been sued by groups of disgruntled parents.
It looks like this debate will continue to run and run - it has after all been bubbling along on and off since the famous "monkey trial" of John Scopes, a Tennessee biology teacher, in 1925.
Another approach to all this - not so often aired in public because it invloves less arguing and litigation - is that there is no need to plug the gaping dichotomy between religious and scientific thought because the two are not necessarily in contradiction. In this approach, we allow theology to tackle the "why" questions, to which it is best suited ("Why are we here?", "Why should I be anything other than selfish?"), and we allow science to deal with the "how" questions, to which it is best suited ("How did we get here?", "How do things work?").
To put it another way, there is a good reason why scientists and theologians tend to produce different answers - it's because they are asking different questions.
When in doubt on such matters of deep philosophical significance, I find one can do a lot worse than turning to Ohio's post-punk flowerpot warriors, Devo. To quote their seminal "Are we not men? We are Devo!": "God made man, but a monkey supplied the glue". Amen.
For those who have not heard the case put by intelligent designers, it goes something like this: The natural world is so amazing and complicated that it cannot all have come about by chance (even over a very long time) and in any case some of the things out there suggest evidence of having been designed by an intelligent force. Proponents of this approach claim that it is based on scientific evidence. Many mainstream scientists argue that this new theory is based more on religious conviction than serious science.
School districts here have got themselves into a lather about whether to teach this theory alongside evolution. Some that have attempted to do so have been sued by groups of disgruntled parents.
It looks like this debate will continue to run and run - it has after all been bubbling along on and off since the famous "monkey trial" of John Scopes, a Tennessee biology teacher, in 1925.
Another approach to all this - not so often aired in public because it invloves less arguing and litigation - is that there is no need to plug the gaping dichotomy between religious and scientific thought because the two are not necessarily in contradiction. In this approach, we allow theology to tackle the "why" questions, to which it is best suited ("Why are we here?", "Why should I be anything other than selfish?"), and we allow science to deal with the "how" questions, to which it is best suited ("How did we get here?", "How do things work?").
To put it another way, there is a good reason why scientists and theologians tend to produce different answers - it's because they are asking different questions.
When in doubt on such matters of deep philosophical significance, I find one can do a lot worse than turning to Ohio's post-punk flowerpot warriors, Devo. To quote their seminal "Are we not men? We are Devo!": "God made man, but a monkey supplied the glue". Amen.
Monday, November 21, 2005
Anyone for Association Football?
When Paul Gascoigne once appeared in court and was introduced by his defence lawyer as a professional football player, the judge famously asked if this was a reference to Association Football. It was. This story often springs to mind here in the USA every time I have to remember to call the beautiful game "soccer" in order to be understood.
But there's more to it than nomenclature. There is something different about US soccer which it's not easy to put one's finger on.
Let me give you an example. My eldest son is very much enjoying playing in the village U-10 C team, otherwise known as the Raptors. I have been spending many a happy weekend hour freezing on the touchline whilst the Raptors get hammered by a variety of local teams, with names like the Eagles, the Raiders and the Gladiators. Needless to say, in such circumstances, one has to find a way to keep spirits up, and self-deprecating terraces humour usually does the job. At least to my British way of thinking.
So, away recently to the marvellously-named Armonk Fire (their debut album is first rate, by the way), at 5-0 down and with only two minutes to go, I shouted earnestly from the touchline, "Come on boys, we only need six!". (Okay, not perhaps the most original terrace heckle of all time, but not a bad effort.) Nothing. Not even so much as a courtesy chuckle from the gaggle of freezing parents all around me. Don't be seduced by the old fallacies about the American sense of humour or their grasp of irony - this is the country which gave us The Simpsons, Saturday Night Live and, er, Different Strokes.
On another occasion, we were hanging on (temporarily) to 0-0 against a team I shall not mention, for a reason which is about to become obvious. My boy broke away in the area, with only one defender to beat, and it appeared that his first goal for the team was a formality. Unfortunately the last defender was a huge kid, at least twice the size of anyone else on the field, in all dimensions. Ignoring the ball completely, he flattened my son, using only the forceful application of his huge belly. Once the magic sponge had been applied, and we had established that there were no serious injuries, my natural reaction was to lead the home parents in a stirring chorus of "Who ate all the pies?". But, looking around at the earnest faces, still concerned about my son's welfare, I decided that perhaps they might not know the tune.
Saturday, November 19, 2005
More Yeast, Vicar?
Most of us can remember being told, in Sunday school or RE lessons, something along the lines that "the Bible isn't a single book; it's 66 different books, including history books, poetry books, and books of moral instruction". Very rarely did that list include "cookery books". Nevertheless, the good people at Food for Life Baking Co Inc of Corona, California have not let themselves be restricted by such narrow hermeneutics. In the noble tradition of literal biblical interpretation, they are proud to supply "Ezekiel 4:9 Sprouted Grain Bread" to a health food shop near you. The orange wrapper explains that, in chapter 4 and verse 9, Ezekiel instructs us to "Take also unto thee wheat and barley, and beans, and lentils, and millet, and spelt, and put them in one vessel, and make bread of it...". And that is precisely what they have done. The result is a product which the wrapper proudly declares reveals the "miracle of the sprouts", which apparently means that "this unique bread is made from freshly sprouted live grains and contains absolutely no flour".
Needless to say, when my family and I discovered Ezekiel 4:9 Sprouted Grain Bread in our local health food shop, we couldn't resist the temptation to try it. An early warning should have sounded when it took all four of us to move a loaf from the shelf into our trolley. But, undeterred, we took it home and began to work our way through. Several weeks - and dental appointments - later, we had the loaf surrounded, and within a couple of months we had polished it off.
So, ye of little faith, if perchance you are planning to bake some bread and you are searching for a recipe, you could do a lot worse than turning to the Good Book, and the prophet Ezekiel in particular. After all, according to the folks at Food for Life, "this biblical bread truly is the staff of life". Amen to that.
Needless to say, when my family and I discovered Ezekiel 4:9 Sprouted Grain Bread in our local health food shop, we couldn't resist the temptation to try it. An early warning should have sounded when it took all four of us to move a loaf from the shelf into our trolley. But, undeterred, we took it home and began to work our way through. Several weeks - and dental appointments - later, we had the loaf surrounded, and within a couple of months we had polished it off.
So, ye of little faith, if perchance you are planning to bake some bread and you are searching for a recipe, you could do a lot worse than turning to the Good Book, and the prophet Ezekiel in particular. After all, according to the folks at Food for Life, "this biblical bread truly is the staff of life". Amen to that.
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