Tagged: family

Reading Log 8.31.2026

Washington Irving wrote a five-volume biography of George Washington, so this was the final volume. As you guessed, he dies. And it is sad. It is sad because he died for reasons that probably didn’t have to result in death, and it is also sad because he genuinely seems to have longed for a peaceful, leisurely life on Mt Vernon. The most interesting detail in this volume was that after his presidency, after he had made clear that his days as a public servant were over, war seemed inevitable again; and the powers that be were calling him to service once more—and he agreed to saddle the war horse once again.

Montesquieu is always engaging. This time a main angle of his approach to Law (capital L) was climate. I don’t know if I’m merely super open to suggestion, or if he makes some genuinely interesting observations, but at the level of ‘the broad strokes’, it seemed to me that as much as I loathed the idea that climate does and should dictate the laws of a country/people, I came to understand that there is merit to the idea. I must also call attention to the particular way in which he framed slavery—via climate again. We hear a lot today about Whites ending worldwide slavery (as opposed to BIPOC folk having any major role in ending worldwide slavery). But that seems to fall on deaf ears, i.e. no one that is ignorant of history wants to hear anything good about Whites. But Montesquieu doesn’t care about white or BIPOC (such a silly division, isn’t it?). Instead he puts it this way:

A new biography of Twain has hit the bookstores, as you no doubt are aware. As expected, it highlights all the ways he was Woke and had TDS. A friend even shared with me an article about how Huck Finn is being taught by the few schools that will still touch it, and that article used right-wing censorship to invigorate itself to life. In other words, the article’s author claimed that one of the reasons the book is worthy is the bigoted MAGA or worse Right doesn’t want it taught. What a joke. I mention all this because of one simple fact: Mark Twain is a premier author. Without his writing, not his plain opinions, we would not know or care who he was. So this book and the collection of short stories that follow the main feature, are definitely worth reading. Of special note to those who want a good laugh is On the Decay of the Art of Lying.

I picked up Biblical Exegesis: A Beginner’s Handbook because I have been reading through the Anchor Bible commentary set. The authors therein casually mention “literary criticism” or “structural criticism” and despite spending three years in seminary, I just wasn’t comfortable with what they meant by these distinctions. Similar to the Five Love Languages, which can be stated in five sentences, this short book could have been monumentally shorter. Here goes. Textual Criticism is the quest for the original wording. We’re talking ancient documents and super in-the-weeds nuances that do not have earth shattering consequences. But it is fun to criticize or look with a critical eye at all there is to see. Historical Criticism is the attempt to accurately place the passage in the context of recorded history. This is in contrast to allegorizing everything in the Bible like is so popular now—-and has been in the past. (“It says, ‘He stooped down.’ Do you hear me? If He ‘stooped down’ back then, He’ll ‘stoop down’ for you today!”) This would be where we discover forgivable discrepancies between the biblical account and other historical accounts of the same events. To be sure, KJV-only types get around these discrepancies by declaring the Bible writer’s to be the accurate accounting–in face of all others. But this is the least of their errors, so don’t lose any sleep on them. Grammatical Criticism is the quest to determine “sense units” after original wording is determined. Easy analogy is “raining cats and dogs”. We can find some people who say, “it is raining dogs and cats” and others might say it correctly, “cats and dogs” but even after we determine the most original wording to the phrase, we need to determine what the heck the sense unit “it is raining cats and dogs” means. Next is Literary Criticism. This is the careful look at the life of the text itself. It has been 2000+ years of these texts passing through time. Consistency is the rule, but not without exception. So scrutinizing the contents of the writing, apart from the historical time period, the grammar, or even the original wording, sometimes provides interesting results. For example, the Anchor Bible book that I am currently reading is called “Haggai Zechariah 1-8”. At first it seemed like maybe the publisher just ran out of time or space, but upon reading the volume, we soon discover that the author believed Haggai-Zechariah 1-8 should be one “bible book” and then “Zechariah 9-14” should be another one. And Literary Criticism is the reason for this opinion. Form Criticism is when we read the Bible with an eye on the “form” we are presented with, such as how we understand a deed to house is going to read completely different than a classified ad about that same house. Tradition Criticism is simply the idea that the story or law or teaching within the passage of scripture was developed. Easy example is the teaching on divorce in the Gospels. In Mark there are no exceptions–divorce is always sin. But in Matthew we find the adultery exception. What did Jesus teach??? Can we ever know? What does it mean that two different authors recorded Jesus differently on the same issue? This is often limited to unverifiable hypothetical-land. The final criticism covered, a course correction to the Tradition Criticism that is concerned with the written passages is Redaction Criticism. Similar to Tradition Criticism, Redaction Criticism scrutinizes the actual written text as it is presented to us. It tries to determine if one text is more original or definitely developed off of a more original source. This would be the source of the well-known idea that Matthew and Luke both had Mark to work from as they wrote their Gospels.

Now you know. And I have easy reference if I get lost again.

Like Reporting Vietnam before, Library of America’s Reporting World War 2 is definitely “must read” for every American. Just scan all those article titles and ask yourself how many you even knew were perspectives on people’s mind during the war.

Finally, the kids and I finished this 3rd volume of the Little House series. On the Banks of Plum Creek is different that the first three in that by now we understand the plan Mrs. Wilder has in mind. Each book will take place in a fairly unique setting and be describing just about one year of life in that location. The pace, then, is more regular, pleasant, and at times more detailed. These are all beneficial qualities. About the only comment I have for the events of Plum Creek is that I have always, I mean always, thought life would be better when the ups and downs were more immediate in time and place. No concern with the mohammedan destruction of Europe or Dearborn. No toilet paper runs affecting rest areas along I-35. Just do the crops grow, or do the grasshoppers come. If we have to up and move, we up and move. And Plum Creek is necessarily rife with this fantasy life.

No Yes

Any person who engages ancient languages with curiosity soon discovers that the word “yes” isn’t available. For me, it was in studying Biblical Hebrew that I came across this fact. Seriously, look up the word “yes” in your OT concordance and then search the Hebrew (or Aramaic) word behind any “yes” you find. The semantic domain will be “right” “true” “honest”, but not what we mean or do with “yes”.

You’ll find the interwebs and AI’s explain that “yes” is a late development due to its “conceptual abstractness”. Okay, Boomer.

How does it work then, I wondered? How could people ask and answer questions without such a simple word?

Then, today, it occurred to me.

And, as you’ll see, I cannot commend enough to study the Bible through the lens of children talking—if you’re undertaking the task as a native English speaker in 2026.

So I ask my daughter, 6 yrs old, “Did A- go to school with you yesterday?” (See where I’m going?)

My daughter replies, not with “Yes” or “No”, but how? She replies, “Sometimes A- goes to school with us.” Or whatever similar seeming method to withstand interrogation.

And the engagements with my kids (and Ethiopian family members—who incidentally tell me they do have “yes” in their native tongue, but which I have come to believe cannot possibly be what we mean by “yes”) are always like this. I ask a yes or no question, and they answer without yes or no.

It’s all clear now.

I can actually calm down. To me, I am doing them a favor with a yes or no question. But from their perspective, they don’t have an option with which to reply other than narrative answers.

Kinda fascinating, if frustrating.

You’re welcome.

Some Thoughts About Dearborn After Light Review of Last Night’s Events

-In his infamous documentary Pumping Iron, Arnold has a conversation with Lou which discusses whether it is better to be the king of the hill (defending from all comers) or the singularly focused threat on the way up. America is obviously the king of the hill. With this status comes threats and enemies and trolls and jokers etc. Islam needs to be relegated to the myth section of the bookstore, but I am not sure of the path to make that happen.

-In recap: a bunch of (in the case of Dearborn, presumably legal) immigrants outbred and then outvoted natives. At face value, I have no issue with this.

-If we believe the mohammedans lie at will (we do believe they lie and they do lie), I am not sure that talking with them is the answer.

-If my above recap is correct, one path would be to move to Dearborn or any other similar towns and out politic them. But that seems like a weird goal to have and a weird life to lead. Most people simply move for better jobs, not a crusade.

-In my recent readings on Vietnam, the Civil Rights Movement, and the Revolutionary War before them, I am struck by how turbulent the times and events were. And yet here we are.

No, I Don’t Think You Do—smh

“We’ve been reading that Huck Finn book you used for school.” The student would have known by “we” the man meant, “your mom and I”. “It has some highlighting in it. Would you say that it is a previous student’s or yours?”

The driving age step-son answered, “Probably mine.”

“Oh,” said the step-dad, who for 8 years has tried to impress upon the lad the penultimate nature of truthfulness. “I was going to say, ‘If you had said it was some other kid’s annotations, that it seemed like a kid just marked up things because he had to, without actually meaning to mark where he highlighted.’”

There was a slight pause, not long enough to indicate shame, then a ready confession , “That was the first book I read at [excellent charter school]. So I probably highlighted at random because I didn’t understand what annotating meant.”

“Ah. Okay.”

Silence ensued for the next few hundred yards of road.

The man began again, “Would you say that you understand what annotating means now?”

“Yeah. I mean, sometimes, I still probably make extra marks because my hand is there with the highlighter and all,” the boy rambled, still not betraying he understood the nature of the path he had set off on. “And anyhow, they don’t really check highlighting anymore. Now they look at the notes in the margin.”

The family finally arrived on the home stretch.

The dad resumed, “So what I am trying to understand is why you would try to fool them instead of ask for help. Like highlighting at random is some kind of deception, versus just asking for additional explanation.”

“Then my homework scores wouldn’t have been good,” the teenager countered. Against all odds and historical evidence, he delivered his next claim with moral superiority, approaching outrage. “You want me to get bad grades?!”

I looked at A-, I mean, the man looked at the student in the eyes. The student pulled his backpack from the trunk without breaking eye-contact, in some sort of primal posturing ritual, taught by who knows who.

The man, from a the street corner just beside hopelessness, concluded, “Yes. I would rather you always tell the truth and fail.”

My Style Solution to Trans Insanity (Laughably Unserious, If Ultimately Provocative)

A recent debater on Triggernometry said, “So the sex that was recorded um and the gender that was recorded on their birth certificate, you can say, ‘Actually that was a mistake’.”

I assure you, dear reader, that I am earnest when I ask this, no matter how it sounds. But I ask, “So, if we stop recording gender/sex on birth certificates, how does a person know they’re trans? If that is the mistake, then why not nip it in the bud right then and there? Birth certificate has name and weight but no recording of a gender/sex?”

Has anyone heard this approach of mine in a debate or discussion forum? Please do share if you know how they respond.

Point of Clarification from One Closer to the Revolution

Washington Irving, in his 5 volume biography of GW, mentioned a book called “History of the Siege of Boston, and the Battles of Lexington, Concord, and Bunker Hill; Also, an Account of the Bunker Hill Monument; with Illustrative Documents” by Richard Frothingham.

For the historians, I am not a comparative history scholar. So take it easy on me if other historians disagree with Frothingham. Just the same, I cannot imagine anyone providing evidence to discount the sentiments in the following paragraph.

To the modern patriots: I am not sure there is a parallel behavior available to us. What say you? All the militia groups I ever hear tell of seem legitimately illegitimate. And I have to admit I trust the military. The stories of Mohammedans becoming cops causes concern. But I think we have time. What say you? Am I burying my head in the sand? Is there a modern minute-men worth joining?

In sum, my point in sharing is to make sure we teach the right history to our kiddos. With or without membership in any gun-toting club, we can all do this.

I Feel Like I’m Looking Through One Eye

“It just doesn’t stop,” the dad said to his daughter at the table. She was finishing Cheetos (“the big ones”) before starting on her cookie.

“It does stop,” the girl corrected.

“What? It is playing again right now.”

“No, when we were playing outside it stopped at 20,” she insisted.

He was perplexed, but never forgot that every moment is another chance at achieving communication.

“A-. The stereo is still playing. It doesn’t stop,” he circled back.

“No,” big breath, “it stops at 20.”

A glimmer of hope appeared.

“A-. Let’s try again. The stereo keeps playing. But the CD only has 20 songs. Is that what you’re trying to say? That there won’t be new songs forever and ever?”

“Yes. It will play only two times. Then it stops.”

“Okay. That makes sense. Now we are communicating. Doesn’t it feel good to communicate? To actually say things that have meaning?” he lectured in his particular fatherly way, leaning in close to her face for Old Testament emphasis.

“Yeah,” she said distractedly, bravely meeting his eyes, before adding, “I feel like I’m looking through one eye!”

Note on Christian’s “Science Proves God” Excitability

I recently read Erwin Schrödinger’s essay called, “Heredity and the Quantum Theory”. In it he uses the word “code” to describe parts of his overall point. He may have meant simply something encoded, like the way Morse code works. But it still called to mind the latest great excitement among smart conservatives who stop short of making Gospel Proclamation the basis of their platform. That excitement being the response to the discovery that the human genome is a code.

Why do they get excited? Well, code means programmer and we suddenly find ourselves back in Aquinas’ watchmaker world.

The trouble is, Hume destroyed the “watchmaker” apologetic. (In short, there need to be two “watches” in order for there to be a watch—nobody finds one gadget and declares it was made. Instead, they know one gadget was made and when they find a second ((or more) similar gadget, by analogy, they are confident to assert it was made. The point is, says Hume, there is one “gadget” ((the known universe)) that we have “found”. And so the debate over whether it was made or not cannot possibly be solved by analogy.)

Anyhow, the excitement is unfounded for a larger reason. In a word, that reason is “revelation”. All the truths of the Bible’s writings are declared or asserted to be revealed truths; that is, men reporting and recording what Yahweh or Jesus or the Holy Spirit communicated to us mortals. Don’t ask me how I know as if I have some special insight—it is the authors themselves who assert this. It isn’t mystical; it is their actual claim. You can read it for yourself!

The Biblical canon is closed—yes? But let’s say it isn’t.

Are we going to say that the additional material should be rooted in the quantification of material evidence? 66 writings formed from revelation from the God himself, but the next are from the images (objective measurements) of creation, as taken by devices only created thousands of years into the advent of mankind? No. And you agree with me deep down already.

How do I know?

Because, like me, you look around and likewise see the sheer lunacy of people’s claims about God.

And you know that the Bible is, and must remain, a limiting factor on human power. Yes, the God of Moses, the God of Abraham before him, and the Godman Jesus is really real. Yes, he selected and used a small number of men over a large period of time to communicate himself to us. And, yes, the communication has ceased. The canon is closed. Unless you want to open it by asserting the claim that God is using you to communicate to mankind something new and inherently contradictory to the other 66 writings.

This is what is meant by the canon is closed. Anything matching the canon has already been said. Anything not matching is inherently not canonical.

The Bible writers claimed to be divinely appointed to pass a message from God to mankind, to you and me. It is a bold claim. It is not what scientists claim.

We are well served to not conflate the two.

“Friday was good. Saturday was good.” – A Short Story.

Whatever similarity the following short story has to a real conversation last night, a conversation between a husband and wife, I assure the reader that the account is one sided and therefore pure fiction—at least according to all the women.

Our south facing bedroom was dark and remained so despite the sounds of a few belated fireworks which our extraordinarily wealthy and patriotic neighbors to the north were letting fly. I had just plugged my phone in and put it in its final resting place on the nightstand. I remained on my side, facing out, my back to my wife. I had a good amount of covers to work with and couldn’t help but release a final chuckle-turned-outright-laugh at The Office blooper short we had just watched.

Friday was good. Saturday was good. Today had been alright.

There was a pleasant mood for those two days as my wife, bless her heart, had not had a chance in hell to work and so was herself at ease and agreeable for once. She seemed to have truly come to peace with the fact that the great serpent of old, the one with the red, scaly appearance and bifurcated tongue, seemed to genuinely not be her husband. Can you understand what I am trying to say, reader? Married life felt kind of normal.

I decided to test the waters and say something true. I knew it was a risk, but I was feeling risky.

“J- seems to actually need a few days to warm up to me every week that I am home. It’s like he becomes softer as the days go by,” I said. Truth be told, halfway through my brief report, I started to wonder if she was even awake anymore.

“I don’t understand, Baliye,” she replied.

I suppose I ought to clarify here that Baliye is her heathen tongue’s ‘my husband’.

“I’m saying,” I started again, “that I can feel that J-, while happy to see me when I first come back home from my week away, seems to take a few days before he fully relaxes and becomes himself. It’s hard to pick exact behavior differences, but I feel it,” I continued. I didn’t share the one instance that was on my mind, the at church earlier when I had pulled him back from the center aisle into the pew. I sat him next to me again and looked down at him, placing my stern, glaring but sparkly-eyed face right over his. He looked up at me and purposely bonked his nose into mine. He does that sometimes. But not on day one, two, or three. Anyhow, I continued, “And the other week, when I was making a trip to load the car before leaving, he actually burst out crying, saying he thought he told me that he wanted a hug before I left.”

I paused for a few seconds. And then picked it up again, “It’s hard to believe he will actually be home for one more whole year before he goes off to kindergarten.”

I had done it. Or I had thought I had done it. I have long held the belief, informed by who knows what, that women, even depressed, selfish, greedy, complaining wives, want to hear what their husbands really think and notice about the family. Like I thought there was a universal truth: every wife, at any moment loves to hear her husband express something that sounds vulnerable and comes across as intimate.

I was proud. Dare I say I thought I deserved a reward? No, I dare not. I honestly just felt like giving. Like I said, Friday was good and Saturday was good.

She then says, “There is a school nearby, R-, I think-”

-there is no force as yet studied by students of natural science that can cause boiling faster than the words I was hearing-

“-which has a preschool, like three days a week.”

(Here the copy of this fictional tale which I found seems to be missing a paragraph of caps-lock ferociousness.)

She responds, “You said what you think. But I can’t say what I think?”

I think is she genuinely unaware of how conversations work? “No, mee-stee-yay, no. You don’t get to say what you think. Not when the person who spoke before you just expressed how happy they were at a set of circumstances and your thought is a brainstorm of how to destroy those circumstances.” (Mistiye is the heathen ‘my wife’.)

Friday was good. Saturday was good.

Review of the Christian Nationalist (haha) Stage Musical, “Finding America”

I have a friend who, in short, helped shuttle the worried BIPOC migrants around Minneapolis during last winter’s Surge. He loved PTA’s One Battle After Another. And we had a few conversations exploring the Talerico-style interpretation of Jesus.

That friend is to whom I texted pictures of the auditorium. This was the screen.

We bantered back and forth for a minute about how different this crowd likely was from the No Kings rally in San Francisco that his trip there had randomly allowed him to witness. My main point was despite all expectations, my room was pretty diverse (mostly due to international crowd), whereas the No Kings crowd is almost exclusively white (and not internationally relevant).

I put the phone away and sat back, unsure of what to expect.

Afterwords, I sent him the following notes, accompanied by the program/scene descriptions.

Here, I want to take a moment to flesh these observations out a bit.

“Nothing like the Lefties would expect”

I like to believe that I am very sensitive and in touch with the passing scene. In other words, I don’t need communists’ help to notice the group or subgroup known as “Christian Nationalists.”

The difference (besides the fact that I am no longer hell bound, Glory Hallelujah!) between the Lefties and me, however, is I will bravely enter the CN’s den. And guess what? The Lefties have it all wrong. The main problem with their imaginations is that white supremacy has no part in Christian Nationalism.

Again, white supremacy is certainly a reality for some folks, no different than Christian Nationalism is real. But the two are not linked. Here’s how I know. Ever since I married an immigrant from Ethiopia, I have dreaded the experience of being around “whites”. You know who I mean. Those people who need to compensate for something by making a point to come over and chat. I know who they are because I am the same person I have always been—and they never showed interest. But now that there is some manner of compensatory atonement available, they are chatty Kathy. Again, I don’t avoid these moments, but I dread them.

But here’s the point: among these Christian Nationalists, we were totally ignored. Ignored by Hindustan-ians (Dot not feather), Europeans, Africans, Asians, etc. The group was legitimately diverse.

“Somehow Not Silly”

Anytime adults play-act as GW and William Tyndale and pilgrims and settlers and Indians (feather not dot) and colonial Blacks anymore, I totally expect silliness. And I know this is the result of the Left’s influence on me. And yet this Stage Musical was somehow not silly. My gut says that it was because even these Christian Nationalists are very aware of the criticism the Left has launched at overly romantic portrayals of colonialism and colonial times in America. So the script just avoids landmines.

I also commented to my wife (who had spent a couple days earlier in the week at the Family Camp and was the reason we went yesterday) that sometimes the phrase “loosely based on true events” is used. And that in this case, the “looseness was so loose that it would be difficult to say they even were making historical claims that could be verified or found wanting.” But I am on Vol 5. of GW’s biography and can comfortably feel the thematic relationship to history. In short, the musical definitely claimed “historical accuracy” but not completeness. And in this, it succeeded.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t comment on the whole Christian part of the lesson. Does it take more than one Indian Christian, more than one Black Christian to teach us that Jesus died for all? No, no it does not. I can’t make their decision for them, no different than I can make your decision for you.

“Easier to pick on audience than the performance.”

I have young kids. The effect this has on me is that I enjoy the idea of dressing or acting more loudly than my “quiet professionals”, special operations trained self would otherwise allow. I don’t wear an American flag as clothing, but I do like being around people who do. And I might get there someday.

Just the same, it is merely fun to me. And it bedazzles even me. Are these people serious? Or just having likewise fun? I can’t always tell. But again, the performance was so polished that it would be difficult to mock. And this was not the case regarding certain stars and bars bedecked citizens.

“Attracting Out Group”

I would include more links etc, but the website bills the show for today and yesterday only. And this is part of my issue with this idea of these uber Christian events (Chosen being most well-known, ergo most egregiously guilty) as evangelism. How would a non-believer even know about these things? And I am number one movie-fan and music-fan on earth when it comes to flatly admitting the best of secular music/movies/shows is generally incomparably more appealing than religious attempts. There is just something missing in Christian attempts at entertainment. I would say it is the fear of impurity. But whatever it is, the whole idea that Finding America or Chosen is on par with Broadway and Hollywood or even “close enough” is laughable to me.

Hear me clearly: in evangelism the goal is to faithfully proclaim the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the same one the Bible writers do. This includes your actions too.

Final Thought

I like talking and contemplating politics. I love America. I fully believe American-led, Western Civilization is unique and a great boon for the inhabitants of planet Earth. And this belief is the result of great study and wide experience among different cultures and conditions. I went to the musical because our other plans here in tinderbox Colorado were cancelled and I wanted the kids to see Christian Nationalists for what they were. I would go again because it is fun to be around people who like life—not for a history lesson or to learn from it. That’s what books are for.

Oh. Final, final thought. Did my kids do anything to indicate they have a brain? Good question. Yes. The performance opened with some GW revolutionary war scenes, and when they switched to the Christian/church history stuff, unprompted, A- (5.87 yr old) turned to me (after declaring that she thought it must be night outside because it was so dark inside) and said, “Now they’re talking about Jesus.”

That’s all I could ask of a person. Discernment.