I don't know if the thinking and meditation I do when I'm riding my bicycle is zen. What ever it is I get a certain euphoria, a clarity of thinking that I struggle to reach normally. The irony is that when riding I'm probably processing way more information than when I'm walking: cars being driven by people texting, cars not stopping at stop signs or ignoring red lights, pedestrians, dogs, small children darting into the street. While riding I know the weather, the smell of flowers by the season, the songs of birds. The sticky-sweet scent of Tamarisk and Russian Olive in the spring--although they are pernicious invaders of critical wetlands, riparian areas, stream and river banks-- is almost overpowering. It is like hitting a wall of scent, like riding through a swarm of sweet-smelling invisible gnats. I sniff my riding jersey when I get home to see if particles of scent, pollen, have stuck to it.
In the spring the calls of male quail looking for love boom from shrubs and conifers. The hens dart into road-ways, pause, and then when they know you've committed to a route around them, they throw a head-fake and dart back into your path. I've never hit one but I've scared feathers off of a few. I've scared the quack out of ducks waddling out onto the road, paced a coyote pup running through the grass along a highway in Washington state,stared into the eyes of a hawk as it perched on a fence post with a mouse in its talon. I saw him dive into the tall grass and emerge with his prey. He watched me pedal by and then flew.
In Idaho, I rode my bicycle by a creek where someone was fishing. His form--fly fisher persons are sticklers on form--was impeccable, a model of style and efficiency. The way he mended line was graceful and rhythmic. Fish rose to hit his fly but as far as I could see his only flaw was that he missed each strike. He didn't hook-up once while I was watching. He finally noticed me when he was changing flies.
"Great day for a ride," he said.
"Yup," I said. "It's also a great day for fishing."
"The fish are really rising," he said.
"You've had a lot of strikes," I said. "But you've not hooked a single fish."
He shrugged his shoulders and smiled.
"What fly are you using?" I asked.
"Several, but I've gotten the most attention from a double renegade I've trimmed to look like a nymph,"
I got off of my bike and walked through the grass and weeds along the creek. He sloshed through the water to the stream-edge. The man showed me his open fly box. There were dozens of flies in various sizes and styles: wet flies, dry flies, streamers, nymphs. All of the hooks had been clipped off.
I held up a hopper and said: "What's up with no hooks?"
He smiled, took off his hat and said:"I don't fish to catch anything. I only fish to see if I can get them to hit any fly I've chosen."
I smiled back and handed back his hopper fly. "I think I better get back on the road," I said.
As I rode away I thought about the number of times I had gone fishing and not caught one fish. I remembered the feeling of contentment and peace. It wasn't the catching it was the challenge of trying. Biking isn't the miles its the quality of thinking I experience.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance
May 21st came and went. Not even one small tremor. From the Associated Press: "It's still May 21, and god's going to bring it," said Family Radio's special-projects coordinator, Michael Garcia, who spent Saturday morning praying and drinking two last cups of coffee with his wife at home in Alameda California. (What? No coffee in heaven? Is it true that the Mormons also own heaven?)
It is, in some small way, the end of the world for some if not many of Reverend Camping's followers. It has been reported that some quit their jobs, gave away all that they owned, and waited and waited for the rapture. Having put all of their faith in yet another con-man is sad. An investment of faith in anything is a huge investment. It puts one in a highly vulnerable position. In a way it is like putting all of your poker chips on the don't pass line on a craps table. If you win, you might win big but if you lose you have nothing including your dignity and self-esteem. Losing trust is losing big. Each of us has put our trust in someone who has taken advantage of the situation. People say they will do something and not do it. Some just walk away with your investment of trust like it was owed to them. Often these types of people do not look at your circumstances, do not try to understand, and only think about what's in it for them. The are the poster child for Zero Sum. It is these people who manifest Machiavellian indifference to anything outside of their own existence.These people make great salesmen. When they become leaders in an organization they lead with fear and intimidation. This behavior leaks out into their family lives and into their friendships. Ultimately I think many of them die lonely and bitter.
The old saying: never go into business with someone in your family could also be re-worded to say: never go into business with someone who professes to by your friend, especially if you've observed these characteristics in them. If you do go into business with them prepare to be treated poorly especially if you disagree with them. It is especially egregious if it is someone you've known and trusted for some time.
So Camping's followers must feel seriously betrayed today. They woke up this morning with their emotions severely bruised, their dreams shattered, their pockets empty. I detest the Machiavellian Camping's of the world, and although I have been ridiculing the idea of the rapture I do feel sorry for those people who woke up this morning with someone they thought was their friend having betrayed their trust. I've never bet on the god these people were betting on. I have, however been duped because I trusted someone's word.
So far betting on the existence or non-existence of a supreme being has been a bust for me. So I chose not to follow either school of thought. Both are dogmatic, both are blessed with people with superior attitudes, and the small fish invariable get eaten by the big fish who said: "trust me."
But Camping also said that the earth would be destroyed by a massive fireball sometime in October. In the words of the immortal Gilda Radner: "If it ain't on f ing thing its another."
It is, in some small way, the end of the world for some if not many of Reverend Camping's followers. It has been reported that some quit their jobs, gave away all that they owned, and waited and waited for the rapture. Having put all of their faith in yet another con-man is sad. An investment of faith in anything is a huge investment. It puts one in a highly vulnerable position. In a way it is like putting all of your poker chips on the don't pass line on a craps table. If you win, you might win big but if you lose you have nothing including your dignity and self-esteem. Losing trust is losing big. Each of us has put our trust in someone who has taken advantage of the situation. People say they will do something and not do it. Some just walk away with your investment of trust like it was owed to them. Often these types of people do not look at your circumstances, do not try to understand, and only think about what's in it for them. The are the poster child for Zero Sum. It is these people who manifest Machiavellian indifference to anything outside of their own existence.These people make great salesmen. When they become leaders in an organization they lead with fear and intimidation. This behavior leaks out into their family lives and into their friendships. Ultimately I think many of them die lonely and bitter.
The old saying: never go into business with someone in your family could also be re-worded to say: never go into business with someone who professes to by your friend, especially if you've observed these characteristics in them. If you do go into business with them prepare to be treated poorly especially if you disagree with them. It is especially egregious if it is someone you've known and trusted for some time.
So Camping's followers must feel seriously betrayed today. They woke up this morning with their emotions severely bruised, their dreams shattered, their pockets empty. I detest the Machiavellian Camping's of the world, and although I have been ridiculing the idea of the rapture I do feel sorry for those people who woke up this morning with someone they thought was their friend having betrayed their trust. I've never bet on the god these people were betting on. I have, however been duped because I trusted someone's word.
So far betting on the existence or non-existence of a supreme being has been a bust for me. So I chose not to follow either school of thought. Both are dogmatic, both are blessed with people with superior attitudes, and the small fish invariable get eaten by the big fish who said: "trust me."
But Camping also said that the earth would be destroyed by a massive fireball sometime in October. In the words of the immortal Gilda Radner: "If it ain't on f ing thing its another."
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Have I missed the rapture?
Several 6p.m.'s in several time zones have come and gone on the 21st of May. That is the time and the day of the rapture as foretold by Reverend Camping in his latest prediction of the second coming. So, if the rapture started as predicted why didn't anyone notice? Were there so few people taken up in the time zones that have already hit or gone past the 6pm deadline that we didn't notice? If you subscribe to the notion of massive earthquakes around the Pacific Rim--as predicted by Camping--to warn of the rapture it would mean that the first rapture would have occurred in the Jukarta time zone (May 21st) while it was still May 20th in the western US. I didn't hear of anything but was it because there are more Hindus, Buddhists, and Muslims in that time zone, whom I assume don't believe in the rapture? There have not been any major earthquakes, tsunamis, or hordes of people dressed in white being launched into space.
Reverend Camping (source MSNBC today) is worth give or take a few donations, 78 million American dollars. According to MSNBC this morning he is alleged to have said he would not be here after the 21st. He was insinuating, I think, that he would be raptured, but he was careful not to specify that the rapture was his departure vehicle. Could he have meant a one-way ticket to the Cayman Islands or some other tax-free country with out extradition? Or was he just joking? Will that sly old fox stay and while recomputing his figures encourage his followers to give up even more in donations? After all the road to Paradise is paved in gold.
I suppose another reason the rapture hasn't yet started is that he's American and we're such an egotistical people that we think the world revolves around us. (stick that in your pipe and smoke it Copernicus) So it could happen at 6 pm Pacific time which is 7 hours away. I was planning on going fishing today but changed my mind. I hope it turns out that this decision was not a mistake.
Reverend Camping (source MSNBC today) is worth give or take a few donations, 78 million American dollars. According to MSNBC this morning he is alleged to have said he would not be here after the 21st. He was insinuating, I think, that he would be raptured, but he was careful not to specify that the rapture was his departure vehicle. Could he have meant a one-way ticket to the Cayman Islands or some other tax-free country with out extradition? Or was he just joking? Will that sly old fox stay and while recomputing his figures encourage his followers to give up even more in donations? After all the road to Paradise is paved in gold.
I suppose another reason the rapture hasn't yet started is that he's American and we're such an egotistical people that we think the world revolves around us. (stick that in your pipe and smoke it Copernicus) So it could happen at 6 pm Pacific time which is 7 hours away. I was planning on going fishing today but changed my mind. I hope it turns out that this decision was not a mistake.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Riding in the rain; religion, the rapture, and zombies
The weather sucks. Now that I'm back in the bicycle saddle, and want to get into a regular training routine, it's been raining off and on for several days. Unless I'm caught in a rainstorm while out on a ride or I encounter rain on a long trip, I don't care to ride in the rain. I'm too old to be that gung-ho.
It looks like if I want to get a ride in before the Rapture--scheduled for tomorrow at 6p.m.--I will have to ride in the rain. The current prediction is for more rain until and through the 21st of May. The end of the world is getting a lot of press, most of it tongue-in-cheek. But it has traction. Of course, so does the zombie apocalypse.
Other than getting born again, the christian rapture seems to require little more than maintaining the reborn feeling and of course paying a tithing. The Pentecostal church, I attended for a few years with my mother, seemed to suggest an unspoken assurance that if you were born again (and didn't back slide) all of the belief system required to support the Pentecostal position was automatically transferred to your soul. I assume it replaced all of the sin that was washed away when you repented.
After a couple of years of the torture of attending a church that used fear and guilt to promote change I started going to the Catholic church down the street. I waited until the parishioners in my mothers church were worked into the frenzy of the holy spirit (talking in tongues, jumping up and down, skipping down the aisle arms raised to heaven) then I snuck out and run to visit the Catholics. The priest said the mass in Latin and the congregation rose, sat, and nealt on cue probably never understanding what was being said by the priest. In the background you could hear the whispered words and the clacking of rosary beads as old ladies wearing black mantillas said the rosary.
The church was dark, lit by huge candles and light let in through stained glass windows, and smelled of years of sweat, incense, and years of sins released in the confessional. I sat in the back pew among the late comers and, during the winter, bums coming in out of the weather. Compared to my mother's church, the Catholic church seemed peaceful unless you counted the various paintings, statues, and crosses depicting torture, political intrigue, and death on a cross, probably one of the most atrocious ways to practice the death sentence.
The priest noticed me coming in every Sunday and approached me to see if I was interested in converting. I don't think he made covert suggestions of intimacy later disclosed by the media as a pervasive undercurrent of child abuse. I didn't convert but it was in the Catholic church that I started thinking about the lack of divine intervention and consequently that there was either an indifferent god or he/she didn't really exist.
How did I come to this realization? It was Roberta's fault. She was two years older than me. Her family always sat in the second pew from the front. Roberta had matured early and, for their lunch money, she would show the seventh grade boys her boobs once a month on our bus. I wasn't in the seventh grade yet but I had heard the stories, had noticed her early development when we rode horseback together on her father's ranch, where I worked as a cowboy.
The revelation of a lack of divine caring came when I found out I could have the most lascivious thoughts about her boobs and nothing happened. This realization was solidified the day that I put my hand into the air and waved at heaven to "bring it!"
"Show me what you can do," I said. "Blast my brains out, right here in this church." In hindsight I was thinking: cauterize those nasty visions of Roberta's tits that sent shivers down my spine and into my pre-adolescencent crotch." Nada! Nothing happened except that the priest and the congregation, hearing my challenge, turned to look at me standing in the back row challenging god. Roberta smiled and waved. It was the last good thing I saw in any church.
But if/when the rapture doesn't happen tomorrow then I have to go back worrying about the coming zombie apocalypse.What happens if the two are combined? What happens when the people killed in the pre-rapture earthquakes and subsequent tsunami (s) come back to life as brain sucking zombies? But I'm ready. "Bring it on," I say. I've been stockpiling whiskey and some ammunition for years. I can survive for many years. I told my family to come to our house if the rapture happens.
So if tomorrow there is a massive earthquake (or several along the pacific rim as foretold) and I hear moaning and the shuffling of feet, be warned that I'm going to shoot first and ask for ID later.
P.S. Maybe I need a vacation! My brain needs cauterizing. Maybe I will take a bicycle ride in the rain and see if my world view and outlook change.
It looks like if I want to get a ride in before the Rapture--scheduled for tomorrow at 6p.m.--I will have to ride in the rain. The current prediction is for more rain until and through the 21st of May. The end of the world is getting a lot of press, most of it tongue-in-cheek. But it has traction. Of course, so does the zombie apocalypse.
Other than getting born again, the christian rapture seems to require little more than maintaining the reborn feeling and of course paying a tithing. The Pentecostal church, I attended for a few years with my mother, seemed to suggest an unspoken assurance that if you were born again (and didn't back slide) all of the belief system required to support the Pentecostal position was automatically transferred to your soul. I assume it replaced all of the sin that was washed away when you repented.
After a couple of years of the torture of attending a church that used fear and guilt to promote change I started going to the Catholic church down the street. I waited until the parishioners in my mothers church were worked into the frenzy of the holy spirit (talking in tongues, jumping up and down, skipping down the aisle arms raised to heaven) then I snuck out and run to visit the Catholics. The priest said the mass in Latin and the congregation rose, sat, and nealt on cue probably never understanding what was being said by the priest. In the background you could hear the whispered words and the clacking of rosary beads as old ladies wearing black mantillas said the rosary.
The church was dark, lit by huge candles and light let in through stained glass windows, and smelled of years of sweat, incense, and years of sins released in the confessional. I sat in the back pew among the late comers and, during the winter, bums coming in out of the weather. Compared to my mother's church, the Catholic church seemed peaceful unless you counted the various paintings, statues, and crosses depicting torture, political intrigue, and death on a cross, probably one of the most atrocious ways to practice the death sentence.
The priest noticed me coming in every Sunday and approached me to see if I was interested in converting. I don't think he made covert suggestions of intimacy later disclosed by the media as a pervasive undercurrent of child abuse. I didn't convert but it was in the Catholic church that I started thinking about the lack of divine intervention and consequently that there was either an indifferent god or he/she didn't really exist.
How did I come to this realization? It was Roberta's fault. She was two years older than me. Her family always sat in the second pew from the front. Roberta had matured early and, for their lunch money, she would show the seventh grade boys her boobs once a month on our bus. I wasn't in the seventh grade yet but I had heard the stories, had noticed her early development when we rode horseback together on her father's ranch, where I worked as a cowboy.
The revelation of a lack of divine caring came when I found out I could have the most lascivious thoughts about her boobs and nothing happened. This realization was solidified the day that I put my hand into the air and waved at heaven to "bring it!"
"Show me what you can do," I said. "Blast my brains out, right here in this church." In hindsight I was thinking: cauterize those nasty visions of Roberta's tits that sent shivers down my spine and into my pre-adolescencent crotch." Nada! Nothing happened except that the priest and the congregation, hearing my challenge, turned to look at me standing in the back row challenging god. Roberta smiled and waved. It was the last good thing I saw in any church.
But if/when the rapture doesn't happen tomorrow then I have to go back worrying about the coming zombie apocalypse.What happens if the two are combined? What happens when the people killed in the pre-rapture earthquakes and subsequent tsunami (s) come back to life as brain sucking zombies? But I'm ready. "Bring it on," I say. I've been stockpiling whiskey and some ammunition for years. I can survive for many years. I told my family to come to our house if the rapture happens.
So if tomorrow there is a massive earthquake (or several along the pacific rim as foretold) and I hear moaning and the shuffling of feet, be warned that I'm going to shoot first and ask for ID later.
P.S. Maybe I need a vacation! My brain needs cauterizing. Maybe I will take a bicycle ride in the rain and see if my world view and outlook change.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Riding again
I thought I would never ride my bicycle again. It has seemed like years since I put it away October 31st of last year, the day before my hip surgery. During my second post-op visit with the surgeon I asked him when I could get back on the bike.
"Do you ride in the winter?" he asked.
"I do but only when the roads are dry and it's in the high thirties or higher," I said.
"Think about it this way," he said. "the bones have not grown over the prosthesis and will not be finished growing for a few months. So, if you ride and fall in the next few months. . . . ."
So I didn't ride until last Thursday. The weather has been so strange and crappy that I wouldn't have been riding even if I had not had surgery. But the warm day was more than I could take. I've been driving my son Jake to meetings until his medical condition improves so I took my road bike with us. While he was in a meeting I road up and back the length of the Legacy Parkway bicycle path. It was wonderful. When I finished I felt high! It felt like that day in therapy when you finally see the light or that day when you know for sure that the anti-depressants have kicked-in.
I rode again Friday and today. The weather is supposed to turn crappy again. Indeed, the wind is doing its best to blow the top soil from southern Utah, over Salt Lake, and on into Canada. I hope I can ride more this week, especially since the world will start to end next Saturday.
And the good news is that my hips haven't been hurting!! My butt on the other hand. . . . . .!
"Do you ride in the winter?" he asked.
"I do but only when the roads are dry and it's in the high thirties or higher," I said.
"Think about it this way," he said. "the bones have not grown over the prosthesis and will not be finished growing for a few months. So, if you ride and fall in the next few months. . . . ."
So I didn't ride until last Thursday. The weather has been so strange and crappy that I wouldn't have been riding even if I had not had surgery. But the warm day was more than I could take. I've been driving my son Jake to meetings until his medical condition improves so I took my road bike with us. While he was in a meeting I road up and back the length of the Legacy Parkway bicycle path. It was wonderful. When I finished I felt high! It felt like that day in therapy when you finally see the light or that day when you know for sure that the anti-depressants have kicked-in.
I rode again Friday and today. The weather is supposed to turn crappy again. Indeed, the wind is doing its best to blow the top soil from southern Utah, over Salt Lake, and on into Canada. I hope I can ride more this week, especially since the world will start to end next Saturday.
And the good news is that my hips haven't been hurting!! My butt on the other hand. . . . . .!
Friday, May 13, 2011
Live it up! May 21st is coming soon.
Saturday’s Salt Lake Tribune (May 14) has run another article about Harold Camping’s prediction that the world will end on May 21st. According to the Trib Camping predicted that the world would end in 1994, but. . .
“Uh, Reverend Camping,” Brother Tom said.
“Yes my son?” Said the Reverend.
“Uh, you preached that the world was ending last year, 1994, and, well, it’s January 1st 1995,” Brother Tom said. “So, I didn’t pay my income tax for ’84 and I gave away all of my earthly possessions except my RV and now I’m living in it, I quit my job, my wife left me because I tried to get her to believe you as well, and, well, so Reverend what happened?”
“It was revealed to me that the math I used was flawed because I used someone else’s theorems. Then the correct formulas were reveled to me and I’ve been working on computing a new date.” The Reverend said. “Furthermore, it was also revealed to me that because He guided you to keep the RV you should use to go out amongst the heathen and spread His new message. Part of that task is to remind those you speak to that the Lord’s work is not cheap. Remind them that they need at least $2000 contributions to be deductible.”
So, Camping “took a closer look at his math” and after a complex algorithm that uses a set date for the Great Flood—4990 BC, author unknown—and then adds 7000 years to the date of the flood. But, the math still doesn’t work so he added a 1 for the missing year “0” and you get 2011 after you translate the number to the Hebrew calendar to the Gregorian (even the Catholic Church is split on the accuracy of this calendar) which results in May 21, 2011.
Scene: date December 31st, 1 BCE. Location: mud wattle huts along the Thames River.
“So tomorrow is the first year of the new year, but is that new year 1 CE?” he says. The man sits in the shade of the tree, picking nits from a child’s head. “It feels like there should be something in between.”
“You moron! Of course there’s something missing but the Maya who actually codified the concept of 0, will not be discovered, exploited, and almost exterminated by the Spaniards for another 1500 years.” his wife says looking up from grinding corn. “Furthermore, getting other moron’s, like you, to donate all of their disposable income to some guy who claims to hear the voice of god, and thereby launching one of the most lucrative pyramid schemes ever invented, is about 200 years hence. That business model will be started by what they will call the One Holy Church. But others will follow because that scam will be very lucrative.”
Camping owns and operates a 66 radio station empire called Family Radio Network. He’s 89 years old so rapture might be a good thing for him. I’m sure he’s made piles of money over the years. That is the business model followed by any company wanting to stay in business. But, when/if the rapture happens as foretold what happens to Camping’s bank accounts, his buried gold, stocks, and bonds? If he’s figured out a way to take it with him that advice would be worth trillions!
Perhaps converting cash to diamonds and stuffing them into a body cavity?
The end of the world has been predicted periodically for over 4000 years. The track record is poor unless you throw in various plagues, regime changes that includes the coming and going of the Greeks and Romans and other empires, hurricanes, Vesuvius, tsunami’s, and death ascribed to religious based or inspired human avarice and war. For the victims of these calamities the world certainly came to an abrupt end.
Raptured?
Only one way to know: become a religious fanatic who believes in physical reincarnation after death and an eternal life in heaven. Some, however, will discover that being a sanctimonious, holier than thou, and Sundays and holidays church member might discover that hell is more than a concept to scare people out of their disposable income.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
The world will end May 21st!!!
NPR Weekend Edition Saturday-- May 7, 2011
The full text of the story as well as audio is available at the following link:
http://www.npr.org/2011/05/07/136053462/is-the-end-nigh-well-know-soon-enough
On May 21, "starting in the Pacific Rim at around the 6 p.m. local time hour, in each time zone, there will be a great earthquake, such as has never been in the history of the Earth," he (Kevin Brown) says. The true Christian believers — he hopes he's one of them — will be "raptured": They'll fly upward to heaven. And for the rest?
"It's just the horror of horror stories," he says, "and on top of all that, there's no more salvation at that point. And then the Bible says it will be 153 days later that the entire universe and planet Earth will be destroyed forever."
"starting in the Pacific Rim at around the 6 p.m. local time hour, in each time zone" So the Pacific Rim spans (by my count) seven time zones. Whose 6pm do we use? Or will the the rapture happen like rolling thunder--those closest to the strike hear it first then. . .etc? It could mean that the rapture will happen as a phased event. So, if we assume that at 6pm Shanghai time they get their "great earthquake" and their true believers start to fly upwards to the gates, the belivers in Seoul will have to wait an hour which means that they should have felt the massive "great earthquake" and be scared shitless! And an earthquake of that size should produce a tsunami wave of monumental proportions. Bottom line: (1). It doesn't sound like the Pearly Gates are large enough to handle the numbers of white-robed believers so they've phased the rapture. Bureaucracy in Heaven? (2). The aforementioned tsunami will have reached the east side of the pacific rim well before its their turn on the west coast of the USA to be raptured. But the bible does say that dead or alive the good, the faithful, those born again, will be taken up. No worries!Even though a tsunami of that size will wash most people into the Great Basin Desert those raptured will just be a bit wet. The rest are going to be a bit bewildered.
I saw a bumper sticker that said something like: In case of rapture this car will be driver-less. Cool, but. . . people in Utah already drive like there isn't anyone in the drivers seat. Some use the middle turn lane as a passing lane and others (probably because they're texting) use the sidewalk as a slow lane.
And being raptured from a moving car begs the question: Unless the car has an open sun-roof, the raptured person has to go through a fairly hard roof. I hope they have a first aid station at the Pearly Gates. There are going to be quite a few people with lumps on their noggins.
Personally? I can assure you I will not be on the "get raptured list" unless I have a change of heart on the 20th. What will be interesting is those who assume they are on the rapture list--they pay their tithing, go to church weekly, etc--that are left behind! I've always wanted to believe at least in the Hell part of religion. I plan on having myself cremated just in case there is a hell so I'll be warmed up when I get down there. Once I'm there I want to apply for the job of gate keeper. I want to see the eyes of those sanctimonious, holier then tho, arrogant people when they pop through the gates and realize that they've actually been sent to the correct place. Now that realization would be true redemption.
On a last note: If I'm wrong and Brian Haubert and Kevin Brown ( the two prognosticators) are correct I'm going to be pissed because I actually paid my income tax on time this year. It would be of interest that the story states that Haubert is unmarried and Browns family--wife and several kids--think he's a kook! Bummer dude!
So, last question: should those sure of rapture pack a light lunch?
The full text of the story as well as audio is available at the following link:
http://www.npr.org/2011/05/07/136053462/is-the-end-nigh-well-know-soon-enough
On May 21, "starting in the Pacific Rim at around the 6 p.m. local time hour, in each time zone, there will be a great earthquake, such as has never been in the history of the Earth," he (Kevin Brown) says. The true Christian believers — he hopes he's one of them — will be "raptured": They'll fly upward to heaven. And for the rest?
"It's just the horror of horror stories," he says, "and on top of all that, there's no more salvation at that point. And then the Bible says it will be 153 days later that the entire universe and planet Earth will be destroyed forever."
"starting in the Pacific Rim at around the 6 p.m. local time hour, in each time zone" So the Pacific Rim spans (by my count) seven time zones. Whose 6pm do we use? Or will the the rapture happen like rolling thunder--those closest to the strike hear it first then. . .etc? It could mean that the rapture will happen as a phased event. So, if we assume that at 6pm Shanghai time they get their "great earthquake" and their true believers start to fly upwards to the gates, the belivers in Seoul will have to wait an hour which means that they should have felt the massive "great earthquake" and be scared shitless! And an earthquake of that size should produce a tsunami wave of monumental proportions. Bottom line: (1). It doesn't sound like the Pearly Gates are large enough to handle the numbers of white-robed believers so they've phased the rapture. Bureaucracy in Heaven? (2). The aforementioned tsunami will have reached the east side of the pacific rim well before its their turn on the west coast of the USA to be raptured. But the bible does say that dead or alive the good, the faithful, those born again, will be taken up. No worries!Even though a tsunami of that size will wash most people into the Great Basin Desert those raptured will just be a bit wet. The rest are going to be a bit bewildered.
I saw a bumper sticker that said something like: In case of rapture this car will be driver-less. Cool, but. . . people in Utah already drive like there isn't anyone in the drivers seat. Some use the middle turn lane as a passing lane and others (probably because they're texting) use the sidewalk as a slow lane.
And being raptured from a moving car begs the question: Unless the car has an open sun-roof, the raptured person has to go through a fairly hard roof. I hope they have a first aid station at the Pearly Gates. There are going to be quite a few people with lumps on their noggins.
Personally? I can assure you I will not be on the "get raptured list" unless I have a change of heart on the 20th. What will be interesting is those who assume they are on the rapture list--they pay their tithing, go to church weekly, etc--that are left behind! I've always wanted to believe at least in the Hell part of religion. I plan on having myself cremated just in case there is a hell so I'll be warmed up when I get down there. Once I'm there I want to apply for the job of gate keeper. I want to see the eyes of those sanctimonious, holier then tho, arrogant people when they pop through the gates and realize that they've actually been sent to the correct place. Now that realization would be true redemption.
On a last note: If I'm wrong and Brian Haubert and Kevin Brown ( the two prognosticators) are correct I'm going to be pissed because I actually paid my income tax on time this year. It would be of interest that the story states that Haubert is unmarried and Browns family--wife and several kids--think he's a kook! Bummer dude!
So, last question: should those sure of rapture pack a light lunch?
Monday, May 9, 2011
Time flies
Paraphrasing Einstein liberally: time contracts or expands relevant to your viewpoint. For me it's been a few days since I last posted. It has been almost two months! In that time the moon has come and gone a couple of times and daylight savings time started again, evoking the annual argument with some family members: "Do we turn the clock forward or back?" And: "Will we be getting up an hour earlier or later?" This is a family who doesn't have the time to get involved in such time-wasting questions and arguments. Other questions: "Why doesn't Arizona and a couple of other states change? If it's 10 am PDST in L.A. what time is it in Phoenix?"
My response? Who ______ing cares?
But a lot has happened. I learned that Easter is as pagan as any other Christian belief. First I find out that it's named after the anglo-saxon goddess Eostre.
The First Council of Nicaea (325) established the date of Easter as the first Sunday after the 14th day of the first full moon (the Paschal Full Moon) following the northern hemisphere's vernal equinox. Ecclesiastically, the equinox is reckoned to be on March 21 (even though the equinox occurs, astronomically speaking, on March 20 in most years). The date of Easter therefore varies between March 22 and April 25.
Gregorian Easter can fall on 35 possible dates—between March 22 and April 25 inclusive.[52] It last fell on March 22 in 1818, and will not do so again until 2285. It fell on March 23 in 2008, but will not do so again until 2160. Easter last fell on the latest possible date, April 25, in 1943 and will next fall on that date in 2038. However, it fell on April 24, just one day before this latest possible date, in 2011 and will not do so again until 2095. The cycle of Easter dates repeats after exactly 5,700,000 years, with April 19 being the most common date, happening 220,400 times or 3.9%, compared to the median for all dates of 189,525 times or 3.3%. (Wikipedia)
And I paid my taxes again. And I again chose to pay them on the last day of tax season. I've thought about just not paying them and seeing what might happen. Prison I suppose. But think about it: three square meals, a bed, and whether you want it or not all the sex you could ever ask for. Then I thought: if I went to prison who would want to have their way with someone as old as I am? Reality check! Prison is not full of intellectuals who carefully consider consequences. Old, young, who cares! Sex are Sex. It's probably why sheep kill themselves when they find out they're going to have to do time in a human prison. (But this begs the question: why don't all sheep migrate out of Wyoming and Montana?) Vulnerable is the key. And if I followed the Christian mantra of: "it is better to give than receive." I'd still be screwed! Age not only fogs the memory, but it also conspires with gravity to make some body parts sag, some without hope of resurrection.
In a way it's like the following story about one of my kinsmen.
The Jewish man finally has to put his aging father into a care facility but given his genetic guilt he comes back in the next day to check on his father.
"So, how was your first night, dad?" the man asks.
"It vas vunderfull," the old guy said. "This morning I woke up with the woody going full blast. The young nurse sees it and jumps on it. I tell you my son, life is gute."
A few days later the man comes back in to see his father. The old guy is clearly depressed. He has a bandage on his head.
"My god," the man said. "What happened to your head dad?"
"Yesterday I got out of bed, got dizzy and fell forward on my head and my gown flew over my head. It knocked me out for a few minutes. When I regained my senses one of the orderlies was having his way with me. Oy Vey!"
"I'm sorry dad but I guess you just have to take the good with the bad."
"Vat good, vat bad! I get the erection every two years and I fall down three times a day!"
My response? Who ______ing cares?
But a lot has happened. I learned that Easter is as pagan as any other Christian belief. First I find out that it's named after the anglo-saxon goddess Eostre.
The First Council of Nicaea (325) established the date of Easter as the first Sunday after the 14th day of the first full moon (the Paschal Full Moon) following the northern hemisphere's vernal equinox. Ecclesiastically, the equinox is reckoned to be on March 21 (even though the equinox occurs, astronomically speaking, on March 20 in most years). The date of Easter therefore varies between March 22 and April 25.
Gregorian Easter can fall on 35 possible dates—between March 22 and April 25 inclusive.[52] It last fell on March 22 in 1818, and will not do so again until 2285. It fell on March 23 in 2008, but will not do so again until 2160. Easter last fell on the latest possible date, April 25, in 1943 and will next fall on that date in 2038. However, it fell on April 24, just one day before this latest possible date, in 2011 and will not do so again until 2095. The cycle of Easter dates repeats after exactly 5,700,000 years, with April 19 being the most common date, happening 220,400 times or 3.9%, compared to the median for all dates of 189,525 times or 3.3%. (Wikipedia)
And I paid my taxes again. And I again chose to pay them on the last day of tax season. I've thought about just not paying them and seeing what might happen. Prison I suppose. But think about it: three square meals, a bed, and whether you want it or not all the sex you could ever ask for. Then I thought: if I went to prison who would want to have their way with someone as old as I am? Reality check! Prison is not full of intellectuals who carefully consider consequences. Old, young, who cares! Sex are Sex. It's probably why sheep kill themselves when they find out they're going to have to do time in a human prison. (But this begs the question: why don't all sheep migrate out of Wyoming and Montana?) Vulnerable is the key. And if I followed the Christian mantra of: "it is better to give than receive." I'd still be screwed! Age not only fogs the memory, but it also conspires with gravity to make some body parts sag, some without hope of resurrection.
In a way it's like the following story about one of my kinsmen.
The Jewish man finally has to put his aging father into a care facility but given his genetic guilt he comes back in the next day to check on his father.
"So, how was your first night, dad?" the man asks.
"It vas vunderfull," the old guy said. "This morning I woke up with the woody going full blast. The young nurse sees it and jumps on it. I tell you my son, life is gute."
A few days later the man comes back in to see his father. The old guy is clearly depressed. He has a bandage on his head.
"My god," the man said. "What happened to your head dad?"
"Yesterday I got out of bed, got dizzy and fell forward on my head and my gown flew over my head. It knocked me out for a few minutes. When I regained my senses one of the orderlies was having his way with me. Oy Vey!"
"I'm sorry dad but I guess you just have to take the good with the bad."
"Vat good, vat bad! I get the erection every two years and I fall down three times a day!"
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