BurningbirdHey! The thinking person’s chew toy has been getting all sorts of public strokes lately.
First, there’s a new gig at MSNBC. And today, he’s profiled in the New York Times:
I like to think of myself as a Renaissance dweeb,” Mr. Reynolds said.
(thanks to Dave W for links.)
Recovered from the Wayback Machine.
We all know how much I like irony — almost as much as I like serendipity.
In Meg Hourihan’s latest weblog posting she writes:
It’s no wonder we’re seeing an increase in unemployment, people seem to have no idea how to apply for a job these days.
Meg then goes on to detail some of the problems shes had with applications, such as blank emails, obviously generic cover letters and so on. The irony enters the picture when she writes:
Of the more than 30 responses I’ve gotten so far, less than 1/3 have even followed the directions to apply.
Of the more than 30 responses… I would say that the current unemployment situation is more accurately reflected in the fact that Meg received 30+ job applications for one position.
Focusing on the actions or lack of actions of the unemployed doesn’t account for the worst unemployment figures this country has seen in a decade, regardless of the Bush Adminstration’s attempts to hide this information. Specifically it doesn’t take into account that the Dot Com explosion resulted in a glut in the technology market that is now resulting in unemployment among technologists that exceeds the national unemployment rate.
Seriously, I imagine that most of us who are unemployed would be glad to send tasteful little ‘thank you’ notes for an interview, if we’re just lucky enough to survive the flood of applications to get to that point.
Recovered from the Wayback Machine.
Three couples on the eve of welcoming new life into their homes: Gary and Fiona Turner, Tom and Wendy Matrullo, and Michael O’Connor Clarke and his wife Sausage(?) .
It seems only fitting to play one of my favorite lullabies:
Hush my love now don’t you cry
Everything will be all right
Close your eyes and drift in dream
Rest in peaceful sleep
If there’s one thing I hope
I showed you
If there’s one thing I hope
I showed you
Hope I showed you
Just give love to all
Just give love to all
Just give love to all
Oh my love…in my arms tight
Every day you give me life
As I drift off to your world
Rest in peaceful sleep
I know there’s one thing that
you showed me
I know there’s one thing that
you showed me
That you showed me
Just give love to all
Let’s give love to all
Creed, Lullaby
AKMA writes about his 16th anniversary of being a priest:
Much of the difference I experience can be attributed very simply to the social construction of identity: people treat a priest differently from the way they treat a generally-pious person graduate school. (One day, a muffler shop even gave me a clergy discount.) Some of the difference resists reduction to social roles and expectations though, some of the difference surprises me and eludes me and still unnerves me.
It’s odd, but I never see AKMA as a priest. I see a man who sometimes gets weighed down by the troubles that beset those around him; who probably cares more than he ought to at times; who is tolerant; who loves his family with a devotion that, oddly, gives me hope (and makes me a bit envious at times). Who stubbornly looks for the best in us, when we just as stubbornly only show our worst.
It’s true that in addition to the above AKMA is also devout, compassionate, and intelligent—all of which can be seen as priestly behaviors I suppose. But AKMA also has a wicked sense of humor, can bite back when bitten, has a fascination with technology and its impact on communication, and has no hesitation in cutting loose and being just plain silly at times. This tends to jar my pre-conceived image of priest.
No, I just don’t see the priest. I see the man who has made choices in his past that have carved out the person we know today. If his actions are the actions of a Man of God, then I would say that AKMA has really been a Man of God since the day he was born.
(BTW, did I happen to mention that he wears a funny collar at times?)
Recovered from the Wayback Machine.
I’m tired and should go to bed. Today was not one of my better days.
However, my cat sensed that my day was poor and quietly curled up my arms, rubbing her head against my chin, purring like mad. I took her for a walk on our deck, and she now thinks I’m better than catnip.
Then I watched my new copy of the extended version of Lord of the Rings, a present from my roommate. The MTV re-make of the Elvish council was a hoot. When I got to the scenes where the characters were speaking Elvish, I turned to my roommate and proudly said, “I know the wife of the person responsible for the Elvish speech”.
“You know Hugo Weaving’s wife?”
I explained that, no, Dorothea’s husband David was the linguist responsible for the Elvish speech throughout the movie. I hope Dorothea will be pleased to know that my roomie was far more impressed at this association then he would have been had I known Hugo Weaving’s wife.