The Prices' Best Christmas Present This Year?

 How about our lives? We went up to visit our parents for Christmas this year, as my sister-in-law came up with the inspired proposal to get the three Price households together for perhaps the last time for the next several years (my brother works in Washington State, and we don't know where he'll be assigned to next). So, we went up on Thursday, had a great time, watched the five kids fill the air with wrapping paper confetti and came back on Christmas Eve. It also meant reduced sleep for me, so I passed off control of the Family Assault Vehicle, heavily laden with children and children's loot, to Heather. We were about here

 

on southbound I-75 at about 3:00pm when Heather started to make a lane-change on an overpass. Unfortunately, there was a car in our blind spot, and Heather swerved back into the center lane. Or tried to. That's when I woke up. Fully. The road was wet. Not icy, but it might as well have been. The Venture started fishtailing--badly--at 70 mph. We swerved into the right lane, heading toward the fence as Heather tried to steady the vehicle and slow us down. No good. We started to hydroplane. The minivan began to spin slowly but surely in a clockwise direction. In a seeming instant we were facing northbound but still moving to the south. We were slowing down, yet still spinning. We faced east, and then hit drier pavement, arresting the spin and, mirabile dictu, leaving us facing southbound again, and in the center lane. Stalled out. But otherwise unharmed. The traffic behind us, despite being beguiled by the show (I will likely recall the expression on a middle-aged woman with glasses for as long as I live), had managed to slow down in good order, and passed us at a relative crawl. Nobody else even so much as left the road. Heather managed to get the van over to the side of the expressway and stopped shaking a few minutes later. I am morally convinced that I couldn't have done any better, and quite probably would have done worse, than she did. Our children were shaken, but since we didn't freak out, they didn't. In fact, Dale now seems to think it was great fun and would like to try it again. [Memo to self: he can have a Segue when he turns 16 and like it.] The wonder of it is that absolutely no harm was suffered by anyone. We could have hit another car or cars, spun right off the steep overpass embankment or even hit the drier pavement at the wrong time and gone into a barrel roll, with all of the stuff our van was crammed with going flying about and hitting the kids. So, no, it's not technically miraculous, it just feels that way. Oh, and by the way: my sister-in-law gave me this visor clip for Christmas. It's staying in the van, if you are curious: 

 

"Fictional" saint, my tuchus.

The Intelligent Design Post.

Since the decision has come down, I thought I'd chime in.

Three points:

(1) Full disclosure: yes, I'm sympathetic to it. I'm also impressed by the arguments against it by such luminaries as Fr. Edmund Oakes, S.J., and Fr. Stanley Jaki. Not coincidentally, both also deploy their formidable logical and rhetorical firepower against materialism, too.

(2) I have a degree in political science, so I lack the tools to say whether ID is good, bad or, indeed, no science at all.

(3) Science and philosophy are inextricably intertwined. That's the reason these disputes keep popping up, and will keep popping up, all the permanent injunctions by flustered judges notwithstanding. [BTW, the First Commandment of Lawyering is thus: Never, ever piss off the judge (the late, great barrister F.E. Smith excepted). From what I've read, the Dover Board did that in spades. It was a horrid litigation vehicle, and the judge was right to be hacked off about the behavior of many of the defendants.]

I have no problem with the teaching of science, including natural selection and evolution--as long as science acknowledges its limitations and stays within purely scientific boundaries--i.e., what can, and more importantly, cannot, be established by the scientific method.

It is the latter where the scientists, including the invariably blustery spokesbeings at the National Center for Science Education, drop the ball. The battle rages on because Dr. Bunson Honeydew and Beaker keep wandering out of the lab, drawing philosophical conclusions that cannot even be verified by the scientific method, and flatulating endlessly about metaphysics. To whit:

Sir Julian Huxley: "In the Evolutionary pattern of thought there is no longer either need or room for the supernatural," Huxley wrote. "The earth was not created, it evolved. So did all animals and plants that inhabit it, including our human selves, mind and soul as well as brain and body. So did religion. Evolutionary man can no longer take refuge from his loneliness in the arms of a divinized father figure."

Richard Dawkins: "Darwin made it possible to be an intellectually fulfilled atheist."

Michael Shallis: "It is no more heretical to say the Universe displays purpose, as Hoyle has done, than to say that it is pointless, as Steven Weinberg has done. Both statements are metaphysical and outside science. Yet it seems that scientists are permitted by their own colleagues to say metaphysical things about lack of purpose and not the reverse. This suggests to me that science, in allowing this metaphysical notion, sees itself as religion and presumably as an atheistic religion (if you can have such a thing)." [For more proof of this, check out this story about the recent intellectual lynching at the Smithsonian.]

Derek Ager: "I suppose I had better mention the concept of a divine creator, but personally I do not find that particular hypothesis useful and I am tempted to ask about the cosmic accident that created Him (presumably before the 'big bangs' that started the universe). And what did He do before He created the world and mankind?"

And, my personal recent favorite:

Daniel Dennett: Dennett claimed that Darwin had shredded the credibility of religion and was, indeed, the very “destroyer” of God. In the question session, philosophy professor Jeff Jordan made the following observation to Dennett, “If Darwinism is inherently atheistic, as you say, then obviously it can’t be taught in public schools.” “And why is that?” inquired Dennett, incredulous. “Because,” said Jordan, “the Supreme Court has held that the Constitution guarantees government neutrality between religion and irreligion.” Dennett, looking as if he’d been sucker-punched, leaned back against the wall, and said, after a few moments of silence, “clever.”

OK, the last one is a bit of a trick--Dennett is not actually a scientist--he's a philosopher. But you sure can't tell, can you? The proper response to every last one of the holders of the atheistic mindset is this: Prove it, professor. Using the scientific method, put up, or shut up.

Of course, they can't prove it--as the Shallis quote helpfully notes, their atheistic conclusions are inherently metaphysical and not susceptible of scientific proof/disproof. But that doesn't keep them from yammering on endlessly about it and muddying the waters.

That's why the backs keep getting up--people keep (wrongfully) using the science to buttress philosophies directly opposed to religion. If the NCSE tried half as hard to keep Dr. Science Who Knows More Than You on a choke chain as it did working itself into its dog-annoying shrieks about ID, it would quickly find itself enjoying something akin the quietude of the Maytag repairman, and, perhaps, not so often finding itself constantly "pushing down the lumps in the water bed," to use the memorable analogy of one of its spokesladies yesterday.

As badly as many religious folks need to take science classes, just as many in the pocket protector crowd need to take a few courses in philosophy and religion. The ignorance is hardly all on one side.

What more needs to be said?

The worst thing about this model of the Motor City Kitties is that you get the distinct sense that no one has the faintest idea how to fix it--even if (and it won't happen) Millen gets the axe. Nobody from the Lions is saying it--nobody dares--but it is obvious that the team will have to be blown up and rebuilt from scratch.

Oh, joy--rebuilding. Again. And a metronome chanting "patience, patience, patience..."

You go ahead and do that, Ford family. Serve up the cornbread 'n kool aid to those willing to buy your never-good-enough-to-cause-heartbreak product. I've got better things to do with my Sundays in 2006, thanks. And I won't be alone.

That's the last thing I'm going to blog about the Detroit Lions this year. They didn't deserve the space I gave them in the first place.

[Update: OK, one more. This was too good to pass up:]

Victor Morton has a very worthwhile essay about That Pudding-Deficient Gay Cowboy Film.

It's here, and it's Exhibit A why he was right not to retire his blog.

It's also not brief, so be prepared to put your feet up.

From the Far, Far Too Much Free Time On His Hands Files.

A Changeverse fan has drawn up a Deathzone map of the U.S., basing it on Steve's theory that the post-Change dislocations would destroy everything within a certain radius of metro areas bigger than 50,000 people (I forget the precise ratio of population to mileage).

Hair-raising, especially given where I live now. Leaving aside the fictional/fantastic horror of the novels, there's always the sobering real-world nightmares like the impact of electromagnetic pulse attacks (make sure to take the time to read and print this one--I have). I've always been strangely drawn to the Upper Peninsula, and now I am getting an inkling why.

More seriously: as regards electronics and electrical generation and transmission, an EMP assault is the functional equivalent of the Change, and would quickly leave us facing many of the same scenarios.

Have a great day!

From the Jesus Never Said Anything About Dwarf-Tossing or Seal-Clubbing School of Christian 'Thought'.

Mark brings us the stylings of one Paula Gott, self-proclaimed "biblical investigator," proclaiming a Deus lo volt! in favor of embryonic stem cell research.

Initial impressions: (1) Her research has a telling, Didache-shaped hole at its center that leaves the remainder suspect (note Chapter 2).

(2) I doubt she's an evangelical, though she tries to appeal to that audience in the way she structures her arguments. (a) They generally avoid the New Revised Standard Version like it was herpes and (b), they don't argue that Plutarch wrote the Gospel According to Luke and Acts of the Apostles. [H/t to one of Mark's commenters for this great find.] I suspect the terms she uses are a direct appeal to the predominantly-evangelical audience of outstate Missouri.

And while I agree that her thesis about Plutarchian authorship of this large swath of the NT is...sui generis...I strongly object to Mark's commenters calling the Rev. Ms. Gott a "loony." In fact, those are fighting words.

She is not a loony! Why must she be attired with the epithet 'loony' merely because she has established that Luke is Plutarch? I've heard tell that John Shelby Spong has posited that Mark is Stephen King, and you wouldn't call him a 'loony'! Furthermore, Brett Favre, the gentleman quarterback, argued that Matthew was Dean Koontz; Dennis Kucinich hypothesized that Voltaire wrote both Philemon and Hebrews, and Jackie Collins conclusively proved that Douglas Coupland wrote Revelation! So, if you're calling the author of Hollywood Wives: The Next Generation a 'loony," I shall have to ask you to step outside!

Do try to keep a more civil tone next time.

Interoffice Memos from the Department of Redundancy Department.

Greg ponders, and I respond.

Door Number 2. Ever and always. On very, very rare occasions, the American ecclesial bureaucracy issues something worthwhile or challenging, but invariably fails to follow up on it or runs like hell from it once the implications become apparent (Living the Gospel of Life comes to mind). Most of the time, they serve up gruel thin enough to raise salmon in (e.g., the "official" voter's guides).

It helps if you remember that there are two essential features for every official USCCB statement, both of which are closely-related:

(1) Giving the widest possible latitude for the in/actions of its individual members; and

(2) Being sufficiently malleable to function as a big-tent consensus statement, papering over the gulf between opposing camps.

The problem is, of course, that you end up with a mess of ambiguous pottage. Could be veal, could be headcheese--hard to say. Depends on the angle and the lighting. Either way, tastes like chicken.

The end result reflects the dictum that no one has ever been successfully called to arms by a committee. Which is why the Conference statements almost never have any positive impact, nor do they even sharpen the issues.

Blogivaria.

Der Tommissar proves that it's all about public service this time of year:

First, the unacknowledged dangers of making Albuquerque a space hub. 'Ware The Created and the Zoopremists, too.

Second: the perils of long-term Toronto Maple Leaf fandom. I've always known it is safer to huff sarin, and now DT has photographic evidence to back me up.

As was ordained from the beginning of time, Hilary is about to de-pope. Actually, she's probably just going to Scotland's magnificent western isles, as it is hard to picture her as a Presby.

[Much harder to picture her as a Unitarian, to be sure, but there you have it.]

Rich Leonardi brings to our attention yet another work continuing the demolition of the tattered-but-fashionable Myth of the Backward Medievals. If the new book is half as good as The Rise of Christianity, it will be magnificent.

With that, you might be able to understand the paucity of postings of late.

The Prices are attempting to reach Target: Christmas with a couple of redlined engines and even more redlined travel schedules.

Add in the fact that The Boy™ is exploring the rudimentaries of potty-training (with all the bad aim, awful timing and origamy that implies), I'm still not finished shopping (two more nephews), andI haven't slept for crap in a week, and I'm pretty well redlined myself.

Blogging may have to continue to sit on the (inoperable) back burner.

It's a bad sign...

...when you get a call from your credit card company indicating its concern regarding a run of recent card use.

But it's much, much worse when you know there's no fraud involved.

Man, am I dreading next month's Discover statement.

An even better way to hack off a pre-schooler.

Take a run at St. Nick:

Here comes sphagnum moss/
Here comes sphagnum moss/
Right down sphagnum moss lane...

"It's 'Santa Claus'!!!!"

My mom kept calling him "Dental Floss," and my horrified brother and I were sure that he was going to skip our house in retaliation.

Try it--works every time.