The Simpsons Proudly Declares Cowardice

The Simpsons has a running gag in the opening credits where Bart repeatedly writes something pithy on the blackboard at school.

Here was last night's:

If you are not familiar with the recent South Park controversy, get caught up here.

I don't know what to make of the Simpsons statement. My initial interpretation is that the writers -- and not necessarily the FOX network -- admire South Park creators Matt Stone and Trey Parker's courage, but admit they have none of their own, which is a decidedly odd message to advertise.

So far FOX has not commented, and judging by the implied message I assume they never will. Were I Stone or Parker, my response would have to be "Thanks... for nothing."

Snarky Before it Was Cool -- Scotticus Talks to God in 2004

In a stunning display of laziness and general contempt for my reader(s), I am going to reprint an op-ed that originally ran in my hometown newspaper in April 2004. The only part that feels especially dated is the John Cusack fawning, but remember that prior to 2004, one could still appreciate the High Fidelity, Grosse Pointe Blank, Pushing Tin, Say Anything Cusack without knowing that those of us in the distant future would have to endure the Must Love Dogs, Martian Child, War Inc, 2012 Cusack.

Speaking of Cusack, join me in our very own Hot Tub Time Machine:

Dear God: it’s me, Scotticus. First off, I want to thank you for so many things -– springtime, basketball, The Sopranos, John Cusack movies -– so as not to seem overly critical. As for Earth, I love what you’ve done with the place. Your sense for drama is absolutely Scorsese-esque, especially that bit with Saddam Hussein coming out of the spider-hole with his Lyle Lovett hair and Jim Belushi demeanor:

"I wish to negotiate." Classic.

Having said that, I’ve got some pretty serious clergy-stumpers that I’d feel much better having answers to. For instance, I saw Mel Gibson’s new movie about your kid, and it got me to thinking: that was your kid. Yeah, yeah, "part God" and all, but if I have my theology right, when Deus Jr. was on the cross –- bleeding, bruised, broken -– he was flesh, blood, scooped-him-up-when-he-fell-off-his-bike human. So from there I began to wonder, was that really justice?

The way I learned it in Vacation Bible School, Jesus had to die in my place because he was perfect. For me to die wouldn’t have paid even the interest on my debt, having once lied to my mom about drawing on the furniture with permanent markers, so you called in a Holy Ringer. That’s where the logic gets muddy to me. Why am I absolved through the breaking and destruction of the only perfect human you ever made? In which part of your wonderful universe is that just?

If I saw a man murder my family, I wouldn’t sigh the great sigh of closure by seeing his sweet, elderly, Wal-Mart-greeter aunt writhe in the electric chair in his place. People point to your fourth-quarter Messiah substitution as proof positive of just how much you love us, but that doesn’t feel like justice at all; in fact it kind of makes my stomach churn.

I want to be on your team. Believe me, I love Max Lucado books as much as the next guy, and Mike Breaux can flat-out preach. Your theme songs are always catchy, and your pleasant promises of paradise take the acid-reflux out of life, but I’m not the first who needed to put his finger in the wounds to believe -– and Thomas used to fish with the guy.

I see your chosen people getting sand kicked in their face by everyone from Pharaoh to Hitler to Arafat, and that leaves me almost as dumbfounded as the fact that you have a "chosen people" to begin with.

But all digression aside, my overall point is so disturbing that I cannot be content to fully claim it without begging, pleading, even praying to be shown the light which so many insist is there; so here goes:

I think maybe you’re wrong.

Now hear me out. I know the Bible says you are infallible, but to be fair it was your book. Richard Clarke practically claims he foresaw terrorist attacks in tea leaves in his book. If I wrote one, I’d be the coolest character in it too. I’d see the future, possess a perfect sense of justice, love everyone, and be able to pull off that trick where Superman could see Lois Lane’s undies through her nightgown.

It’s not that I don’t think you are who you say you are. Evidence and instinct screams that there is a creative, even artistic force behind the universe, and I believe that force is most certainly you. But I was created with a mind capable of astounding feats of reason (in fact it is my gift just as bears have claws and puppies have cuddliness) and there are moments among your record where you and I seem to simply disagree. Remember that time when you and Moses commanded the Israelites to pike the heads of the Midianites, scolded the army for leaving the women alive, then ordered them to take the virgins -– most likely preteens -– for themselves (Numbers 31:3-18)? I wasn’t on board for that. And earlier, when you put Pharaoh up as a patsy to show off your best tricks, one of which was killing firstborn children (Exodus 10:1-2), well you left me with a little head-scratching then too. But the real rub is the crucifixion. What parent expresses love to his naughty children by nailing the one who behaves to a tree?

In the end, it’s your world. Even if you are wrong, you wrote the rules and you pick the winners. But you created this brain in my head, and if the ultimate gesture of humanity as you created it is to deny the very rationality and morality that sets me apart from the gerbils in favor of blindly following you, then I’m afraid I cannot suit up this time. Give my regards to Walter Matthou, and if I’m wrong, then I truly pray you help me piece it together before the final horn blows.

PS – Thanks again for the springtime.

Leading Saudi Scientists Say Earth "Probably Less Flat" than Once Believed, Possibly Toroidal

Check out this interesting translation from a 16th-Century Babylonian manuscript. The ancient text chronicles the journey of a Lebanese fortuneteller named Ali Sibat, who was something of a celebrity in his day:

[W]hile on pilgrimage in Saudi Arabia last year, Sibat was spotted by religious police in the holy city of Medina. Their job it is to battle vice and uphold virtue in the ultraconservative kingdom. So they arrested Sibat in his room at the Medina Hotel on charges of sorcery.

...Sibat was given a death sentence by a Mecca court for allegedly practicing witchcraft.

Sibat’s fate is common in Saudi Arabia.

Scores of alleged witch doctors, fortunetellers, and black magicians each year are dragged through the Saudi courts, including Fawza Falih, who’s been on death row since 2006 for witchcraft.

Wait a tick. Did that last line say Falih has been on death row since 2006? As in Anno Domini?

Indeed it did. Because -- believe it or not -- the whole passage is actually from a 2009 Los Angeles Times piece about contemporary human beings and a 21st-Century state that still murders its citizens on suspicion of devilry. So what constitutes evidence of buddying up to Beelzebub? Bilingualism, apparently:

Take the case of Muhammad Burhan, who carried a phone booklet with writings in the Tigrinya alphabet from his native Eritrea. Perhaps it was his way of protecting himself against the evil forces out there. Maybe it was his lucky charm for a little extra success in his love life or in business.

But the booklet convinced Saudi authorities that Burhan was a black magician and charged him with "charlatanry," for which he was lashed 300 times and sentenced to 20 months behind bars. He was then deported after having served more than double the prison term he was sentenced to, according to Human Rights Watch.

As I've pointed out before, Saudi Arabia is still considered among the least-free places on Earth. Evidently, their goal is to move up that list, rather than off of it.

Double Clubcard Points, Wine by the Case -- the Jedi Craves Not these Things

When Daniel Jones entered a Bangor (UK) Tesco store, he certainly wasn’t looking to cause a confrontation. So when store employees escorted him to the front of the store and insisted he either remove his religious headwear or leave the premises, Jones was understandably shaken.

“They said: ‘Take it off’,” Jones recounted to reporters. “And I said ‘No, it’s part of my religion. It’s part of my religious right.’ … They weren’t listening to me. It was intimidating.”

I should mention at this point that Jones is a Jedi.

A Jedi; a Jedi; a Jedi.

Tesco responded to the tempest following the ejection by saying: “He hasn’t been banned. Jedis [sic] are very welcome to shop in our stores although we would ask them to remove their hoods.” Then, proving themselves to be giant winners in life’s game of perspective-based humour, Tesco’s spokemen continued: “If Jedi walk around our stores with their hoods on, they’ll miss lots of special offers.”

Find the droids you’re looking for, and the whole story via The Guardian (no relation), here.

Learn more about the 500,000-members-strong Church of the Jedi here.

Leave as a Boy; Come Home as a Really Pedantic Boy

From the July pages of The Economist (the second-best dead-tree magazine around) comes this piece about a humanist summer camp.

Kids aged 8 to 17 share cabins in the woods. During the day, they paddle canoes, shoot arrows, go swimming and explore nature.

But [cue sinister music]:

Lunch comes with a five-minute talk about a famous freethinker. Campers are told that invisible unicorns inhabit the forest, and offered a prize if they can prove that the unicorns do not exist. The older kids learn something about the difficulty of proving a negative. The younger ones grow giggly at the prospect of stepping in invisible unicorn poop.

…Campers are not told that there is no God; only that they should weigh the evidence. They learn about the scientific method. …The kids are encouraged to explore ethical questions, too. The more argumentative ones sit in a clearing and debate the nature of justice.

Granted, this camp probably produces some of the most unbearably condescending 16-year-olds on Earth. But a skeptical mind is life’s most useful tool, so sign baby Wyatt up for 2017.

Plus, archery!

Hat tip to longtime commenter “Ryan” for the article.