The Contest is Not Certain

When I moved to Minnesota I immediately noticed the Somalis. If you’re unaware, they are in many towns up there, not just the Twin Cities—small and large.

The most obvious thought I had—being a geographically and climate-varieties informed American—was, “Why the eff are they staying in the cold?”

I would see them, men especially, wearing one thin layer of buffalo plaid pj pants, holding their parka tightly with ungloved hands when the wind was blowing around below zero chills.

“What is wrong with this moron?” I would constantly think.

Don’t misunderstand me. This had nothing to do with that part of the body between the brain and the wind. I thought the same thing about any poorly dressed soul. It’s just that typical Minnesotans, if they know anything, know how to put on a coat. So the Somalis stood out.

For the life of me, I couldn’t think of any industry or job that these Somalis worked in that wasn’t in every other state in the Union.

The God’s honest truth is that I just shook my head and reckoned, “Well, I have heard of Chinatown(s). So I guess a feature of American life is that some country’s immigrants just arrive and stay close.” I had never experienced the desire to stay with “my people” beyond the concept that moving out of America has never been a consideration. America is mine. So I will move around it as I please or where the wind blows me.

Just the same, I still thought they were dumb for staying in the cold. Like even my Midwestern-grown self had no idea how different the weather really is in latitudes north of Nebraska. But I also wasn’t from latitudes north of Nebraska. These people, the underdressed Somalis, were from the desert. They had actual experience in a different, surely more pleasant climate. Why didn’t they drive south? The St. Louis airport has the same work available that MSP does. Why not just move down to the Midwest and start the life there? Or, hell, why not just keep going and end up in Dellis. Or Tampa?

I thought and I thought and I thought. I just couldn’t figure it out. Why did they stay?

Thuck-Y-Dideez

I first heard of Thucydides in college. This would have been 2001-ish. We weren’t studying him, but the professor needed to make a point and used the classic “Athens-open, Sparta-closed” historian to do so. Along the way, the professor interlaced a story about how a student came to him complaining about the reading and pronounced thoo-sih-di-deez: Thuck-Y-Dideez.

Funny stuff.

I do not know what the Thucydides Trap is, but I want to post an informed guess before I google it. What did Xi mean when he used the phrase?

Before I reveal my surmise, I want to add here that a chinaman using a western anecdote is real evidence that America and the West are already winning the war with China. And rightly so, since we’re obviously the more relevant civilization.

Okay. That said. What is the “Thucydides Trap” that we hope to avoid?

War.

(Wish me luck in my AI-ing for confirmation/information.)

Poverty Can Be Immoral

As I see it, there are two, maybe three, ways to live in poverty.

Firstly, you can be grateful for what you have. This would be the Biblical and wise posture.

Secondly, you could (though I can’t think of anyone like this) remain neutral or ambivalent towards your condition. Asking for nothing more, expecting nothing more, and receiving nothing more. Again, this doesn’t seem to be a real posture, but I am not willing to rule it out.

Thirdly, you can believe that your impoverished condition is somehow not your fault. The flip side of this posture being that you believe you deserve and are worth more material good than you currently possess. This posture, then, is immoral poverty. It is immoral, not merely because it is unbiblical, but because it is rooted in untruth. Put plainly, you will not find an immorally poor individual who isn’t living a life of wild lies. Lies permeate their life like wetness permeates water. They are soaked in lies.

(Take a breath.)

Faithful Reader: Do not mistake the above for useful information. It is trivial observation based on this morning’s fight with my lying wife. Also indicative that the observation is useless is the following: There is nothing that can be done with these people. Their immorality is complete and airtight. They live within a perfectly logical netherworld. There is no prayer available to us that isn’t already floating to the heavens. There is no god capable of changing their behavior, capable of rescue. There is no help to be found on the mountains for this problem.

How does one live alongside such people? It can only be accomplished through exceedingly particular, nuanced, and ultimately discrete analysis of cause and effect.

That, then, is your wisdom for this Choosday, as Twain’s Jim utters it—which calls to mind another big assist: books.

Did You Know the Victorian Era had a Fad Called “Table Turning”?

It’s true. I first read about it in the Gateway to the Great Books volume on Natural Science.

The renowned physicists of the era actually referenced, with tremendous disdain, the nonsense on their way to explaining how the physical world follows seemingly iron law.

But don’t take my word for it. Just search it up. Victorian era table-turning.

(You’re tired. It’s late. What does this have to do with anything, you ask? Well, it just should be counted as proof positive that there are no bounds to our ability to try to fool each other and to be fooled by each other. There are no extraterrestrial life forms, folks—only terrestrial suckers.)

On Noble Pleasure

Anyone else, for whatever reason—be it environmental considerations or energy (mine is energy)—refuse to turn on hot water to wash their hands? And given this state of play, then, every so once in a while, wash them right after someone who isn’t so aware, and, for the briefest of moments, feel just regal as the still-warm water hits? For my part, I imagine the pleasure is exactly comparable to what it must have felt like to sneak a dessert made with the richest, purest, and freshest ingredients right off the King’s china after he had departed—and before the other (reckless and shifty as they were) servants entered—the hall.

On Complicity

I’m still stuck on this notion of “complicity” included in the crazy man’s manifesto.

For today, I want to use a phrase from Ezra 7:25 to focus the discussion. We read, “‘And you, Ezra, according to the wisdom of your God which is in your hand,..’” (Italics mine.)

This is a phrase from a decree by a ruler. We would be right to call it a form of delegation. “The ruler is delegating his power to Ezra,” we might say. But there is a limit to the power. Ezra doesn’t receive all power from the ruler. What is the limit? The limit is apparently whatever is meant by “the wisdom of your god”, but not just some ethereal or spiritual or emotional (and therefore hopey-changey concept) but a concept that is contained by something that can be placed in Ezra’s hand.

I don’t mean to play read my mind; we’re talking about some concrete way of describing “the written law”. You can hold it in your hand. The ruler has delegated his power to Ezra, but limited Ezra to a written record of the “wisdom of [Ezra’s] your god”.

Back to complicity.

Do our laws suggest that watching a crime is the same as committing the crime?

Surely not.

I can imagine that there may be a law on the books (in our hands) which a bystander can be found guilty of breaking by not helping a victim, but even that law (if in existence) will not mean that the bystander committed the same crime as the attacker.

In short, the crazy man (and I want to be clear: ALL crazy men) are fundamentally unlawful in their thinking and understanding of the law, life, and the passing scene.

You are not complicit in another’s crimes, not according to the law of the land, not according to your standing before the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ—as limited by the Wisdom of Him found in the Bible.

Because Every Christian Should Be Able to Do Likewise Without Blinking

The crazy man said, “Turning the other cheek when *someone else* is oppressed… is complicity in the oppressor’s crimes.”

Biblical Christianity says: Nope. You answer to your creator for you and no one else.

The crazy man said, “Yield unto Caesar what is Caesar’s” and then discussed rule of law vs rule of personality, and concluded that the Law should always be followed.

Biblical Christianity says: Yup. The Law should always be followed. I’m not sure where he thinks his reasoning is different. (This is sarcasm as we all know he actually meant to argue that the Law enforced by men who don’t follow the law themselves does not count.) To be sure, Biblical Christianity has always believed that murder is wrong.

The Briefest Review of Glenn Powell (After Watching Running Man)

He ain’t got it.

Arnold had it.

Sly had it.

TC has it.

Even the name “Glenn Powell” cannot be a part of the “it” that he so desperately seeks. Tragic, in a way.

(To be honest, the movie was actually better than I had heard. Preachy at times, but, on the whole, enjoyable and entertaining.)

Reading Log 4.17.2026

As the influencers and their adoring trolls say these days, “Don’t sleep on those math essay titles!” This is the first volume of a four volume set on the World of Mathematics and I wanted to include the contents so that you can see for yourself just how far-reaching mathematics is. I especially call your attention to an essay near the end on “Mathematics in Painting”.

You see, years ago I stumbled upon the notion that not every math idea has always been around. Specifically, even the seemingly simple concept of the number zero is relatively new. As I explored and validated this notion, I came to read that even our literate ancestors had silly ideas about the size of the sun, some notable philosophers of old speculating that it is only twelve inches in diameter.

This wildly wrong guess called to my mind the fact that early art lacked what we call perspective. The curious question came to mind, “What exactly are we talking about here? When people saw paintings of nature or portraits of people, which we now would never suggest look anything like the landscape or person, did they think, ‘Nailed it!’?”

More pointedly, we can still do this today when we see a kid draw a terrible portrait of someone and it almost physically hurts to ask the kid the simple question, “Do you really think that scribbling looks like me?”

What gives? I wondered. Did their eyes work differently? Do my children’s eyes work differently.

Well, before ever starting this four volume set, I had speculated that the increase in art’s ability to capture life accurately was probably somehow related to the increase in mathematical knowledge. I said to myself that the obvious increase of both was not coincidental.

Long story short: it’s not just somehow related. It was mathematicians who moonlighted as artists (or vice versa) who, with their unique abilities, developed perspective in art!

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Upon starting Volume 3 of GW, I learned that it was actually a five volume biography by Mr. Irving that I had begun. Luckily eBay exists and I was able to track down the final two volumes before they vanished forever. I also have picked up a post-Revolutionary War map from which to teach my children (and any houseguests) the striking fact of how small a part of America was even involved in our infamous Independence-giving war.

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Aquinas is simply the most methodical writer you will ever come across. You owe it to yourself to peruse at least one chapter.

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Snodgrass is someone I learned about while reading Meier’s fifth volume of his Marginal Jew series (also on Jesus’ parables). Suffice it to say, I now have a decent depth to my understanding of Jesus’ parables. All I can offer in brief is, “Please do not loft an opinion or interpretation of a parable’s meaning until you read at least one book on them.” Either Meier or Snodgrass is a fine place to start. (Blomberg too.)

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Sherlock Holmes author Sir Doyle wrote a fun little classic knights-in-shining-armor adventure tale in The White Company. Best part is a reminder that once we did things for glory. And it also has some super funny banter among knights.

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And for fun (and more simply to be forthright) I have included the two bedtime story books I have recently completed with my children. These two have a few great moments apiece, but in moving to Farmer Boy, I have to say FB seems to have a much more compelling plot, what with the whole new teacher being the friend of previous teacher who was essentially murdered.

My sister had the yellow colored box set of these on her shelf all my childhood. I stared and stared and thought they were for girls only—like there was no way a boy could enjoy them. Ha. So stupid.