…so I haven’t had time to make today’s blog entry. I’ll try to get it in later tonight — a report from the Toronto Vegetarian Fair and from last night’s performance at the Free Times Cafe.
In the meantime, how ’bout a picture from the supermarket?
Among the many qualities about Americans that I love — their “can-do” attitude, their energy, their amazing junk food — is their gift for self-parody. The latest example of this is this item that’s up for sale on eBay: a poster of Dubya made up of a mosaic of classic paintings of Jesus!
An excerpt from the description for this lovely collector’s item:
At last, we have a Christian President. George W. Bush is restoring dignity, honor and Christian morality to the highest office in the land. He is not afraid to “let his light shine before men.”
Truly a man for our times, he has set high standards of personal conduct and shows the greatest respect for his position as our leader. As such, we believe he is a national role model.
To honor the “1st office” in the land, and the man who is fulfilling his duties in that office so well, JesusMosaics has produced this “special edition” print.
“Our Christian President” is a pictorial representation of the ultimate goal of every Christian. That is, that when men look at us, they will “see Jesus.” Jesus in our words, Jesus in our conduct, Jesus in the love we have for one another. Pres. George W. Bush is striving to fulfill that goal while serving all of us in the “toughest job in the country.”
My only response is: Jesus!
I’m tough on Buddhists who practice religion-as-fashion (as I’ve written here), but I’m equally tough on people who wear Jesus as if He were a shiny Rolex. This is an example of a bad American quality — the tendency to “buy” esteem, whether it be with money or by association, rather than earn it by their deeds. Often, when politicians cite the Big G, they’re simply using some choice quotes from the Bible to back up whatever policy they’re promoting or law they’re trying to get passed. They use religion the way drunks use lampposts — for support, not illumination*.
So-called Christians who play the Jesus trump card would do well to remember Matthew chapter 6, verse 5:
And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by men. I tell you the truth, they have received their reward in full.
School ’em suckas proper, Jeebus!
(Props to BoingBoing for the link.)
* My own twist on a Mark Twain quote about statistics.
Monday night is Open Mike night at Accordion City’s Free Times Cafe, and Paul and I will be performing a couple of numbers — him on acoustic guitar and me on you-know-what. If you’re in the neighbourhood (College and Spadina), come on down! We’re hoping to go onstage around 9:30.
I hereby abdicate myself of any responsibility for the other acts, the lion’s share of which are weepy acoustic folk singers whose songs all seem to have the same message: “nobody loves me.” Damned hippies.
What kind of birthday cake do you get for your C++/Python coding, Peekabooty-writing, Mars Society-joining housemate?
A triple-chocolate cake from the amazing Dufflet Bakery is a start. But the geekiness comes in the decorating:
(For the non-geeks reading this, 1337 means leet, a hacker diminutive for the word elite, while 11100 is 28 in binary.)
Geeky presents abounded: I got Paul a copy of the Python Cookbook, while Zooko got him a copy of Extreme Programming Explained. It had all the marks of a party that takes place at this house: good people, way too much food and drink, a bathtub full of ice, pop and booze, and — of course — “Happy Birthday” on accordion.
Happy 28th, Paul! Hope you survive your Saturn Return!
I just came back to the office after running a few quick errands. As I was locking my bike, a guy tapped my shoulder.
“Smokin’ Joe deVilla!” he said. “I saw you at the comedy show on Tuesday and loved your act. You’re on again soon, I hope?”
“Next month, I think,” I replied. “Thanks! Glad you like the show!”
I’m grateful for the compliment, but I hope they stop billing me with that stage name before it’s too late. After all, how long did it take for John Cougar to go back to John Mellencamp?