I read the interview by Unitarian minister Marilyn Sewell of Christopher Hitchens with interest. Hitchens is well-spoken in support of his opinions. Sewell, however, left me with my mouth agape.

That would be agape, as in amazement, not agape, as in love.

Repeatedly, in discussing Christianity with Hitchens (who is an atheist), she could only, at best, describe herself as a person of faith.

Person of faith?

What the hell does that mean?

That’s a meaningless statement if I’ve ever heard one. Anyone who flies on a commercial airliner is a person of faith. Anyone who eats at a public restaurant is a person of faith.

I’m not an atheist, but at least Hitchens didn’t sound like a dumbass. Sewell, on the other hand, completely deserved Hitchens’ responses to her inane questions of nothing, which were less questions and more an attempt to garner respect by downplaying her faith as a person of faith. She barely gets into the interview before making sure she ascertains her liberal and intellectual “faith” street cred:

Sewell: The religion you cite in your book is generally the fundamentalist faith of various kinds. I’m a liberal Christian, and I don’t take the stories from the scripture literally. I don’t believe in the doctrine of atonement (that Jesus died for our sins, for example). Do you make and distinction between fundamentalist faith and liberal religion?

Hitchens: I would say that if you don’t believe that Jesus of Nazareth was the Christ and Messiah, and that he rose again from the dead and by his sacrifice our sins are forgiven, you’re really not in any meaningful sense a Christian.

Sewell: Let me go someplace else. When I was in seminary I was particularly drawn to the work of theologian Paul Tillich. He shocked people by describing the traditional God—as you might as a matter of fact—as, “an invincible tyrant.” For Tillich, God is “the ground of being.” It’s his response to, say, Freud’s belief that religion is mere wish fulfillment and comes from the humans’ fear of death. What do you think of Tillich’s concept of God?”

Hitchens: I would classify that under the heading of “statements that have no meaning—at all.” Christianity, remember, is really founded by St. Paul, not by Jesus. Paul says, very clearly, that if it is not true that Jesus Christ rose from the dead, then we the Christians are of all people the most unhappy. If none of that’s true, and you seem to say it isn’t, I have no quarrel with you. You’re not going to come to my door trying convince me either. Nor are you trying to get a tax break from the government. Nor are you trying to have it taught to my children in school. If all Christians were like you I wouldn’t have to write the book.

Sewell later attempts to explain her understanding and belief in God to Hitchens:

Sewell: God is a mystery to me. I choose to believe because—and this is a very practical thing for me—I seem to live with more integrity when I find myself accountable to something larger than myself. That thing larger than myself, I call God, but it’s a metaphor. That God is an emptiness out of which everything comes. Perhaps I would say “ reality” or “what is” because we’re trying to describe the infinite with language of the finite. My faith is that I put all that I am and all that I have on the line for that which I do not know.

Sewell’s attempts to explain God could have applied to a cheeseburger, their tenable value being that low. She seemed more intent on getting Hitchens to agree that the stories of the Bible were a valuable metaphor than anything else.

Valuable metaphor?

Marvel comic books contain valuable metaphors. You don’t see me setting up an altar to Spidey.

As Paul said in 1 Corinthians, and as Hitchens succinctly pointed out to Person-of-Faith Sewell, if you call yourself a Christian and don’t believe, at the very least, that Christ died for our sins and rose from the dead, you are to be pitied above all others. Sewell is pitiable; she has faith in metaphor and vagueness and  non-offense and the historical value of her grandma’s Bible, but not in Christ.

Look, if I’m going to call myself a Christian, I’m going to believe it. I’m going to believe it an not be embarrassed. Otherwise, I’m going to line up with Hitchens and his atheism, and not be pathetic in my worship of valuable metaphors. At least he’s not attempting to straddle the fence.

They might as well have had a Smurf interview Hitchens. The questions would have carried the same religious clarity and Christian conviction, except without the pretension in describing a belief in Papa Smurf.

In an effort to try and get some kind of record of the art I’ve created over the years (much of the earlier stuff having gone out the door unphotographed), I emailed my friends and asked if they could take a photo of the Beatles drawing they’d asked me to draw years ago.

I don’t remember much about the drawing, other than the request was something with the Beatles.

What I ended up doing, as you can see, is a caricature, using charcoal, of McCartney, Lennon, Harrison, and Starr. I then added, in no particular order, a collection of song lyrics in the area of where their torsos would be.

The secret, is of course, a slight addition of a non-lyric; it’s not hard to spot.

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Julie’s Lost Art: If you happen to have one of my early artworks, I’d love to get a decent digital photo of it, emailed to me. I can think of a couple, specifically, that I’d love to get a photo of:

• a caricatured version of “American Gothic”
• a mixed-media painting of greyhounds running (a rather long painting)
• a triptych painting of greyhounds and a starry sky (was sold/auctioned at Dewey Beach greyhound event in ‘03 or ‘04, I think)
• and a mixed media painting of fish (was sold to a co-worker at Nodak Mutual Insurance Co. in Fargo; her name was Sheila…?)

Much of these were created before the advent of widespread digital camera and/or scanner use, and I didn’t always take a print photograph.

“I’m with Coco” poster seen in downtown Bismarck gift store on my walk home from work today.

Are you with Coco?

I’m not a drinker, but if I was, Sunday would be the day. This is because of the “Favre 3:16” phenomenon that I had described earlier. This Sunday, the Vikings play an important game that they, according to several people I’ve asked, probably won’t win. Their victory or loss will have no effect on the fan club emanating from the television announcer booth, however, which will supply several earloads of Favre mention.

The announcer-mention ratio of Favre to Peterson or Harvin or Allen is something akin to 20:1, which may possibly end up being the score tomorrow. Were a person to take a drink at every mention of Favre, they would be toe-up by halftime and not have to watch the possibly painful ending of the game.

Either way, get your glasses ready for Favre.

It’s a win-win even if it’s a loss.

Get the full cartoon here.

While watching the Minnesota Vikings vs. the New York Giants today (which was painful to watch if you were a Giants fan), I couldn’t help but notice once again that the game announcers should probably just marry Brett Favre and get it over with.

They love him. Excessively.

The Vikings didn’t win today, according to the announcers. It was “Favre and the Vikings.” In fact, Favre’s name was put before mention of the Vikings about 86 percent of all mentions.

Favre and The Rest.

I understand the importance of the quarterback and the tendency to use their name in conjunction with the team. However, the Favre lovefest is such that my friend and I both noticed it and began finding ways to insert the word “Favre” into our regular conversation. After a while it started to sound like the Bill Swerkski’s Super Fan Bears/Bulls skit from Saturday Night Live.

Periodically, in between hearing Favre Favre Favre Favre from the TV, some other plays were announced. Apparently, there were other players on the field, though for a while, it seemed like Favre was out there playing himself.

Between the camera coming to rest on Favre’s face on the sidelines when there was no action on the field and the constant “Favre this” and “Favre that” coming from the announcers, I realized we had some kind of messiah on our hands.

In the past, when watching the game, my friend and I had joked, every time that Favre got sacked, that “that’s what $20 million looks like”; I admit that Favre brings something to the game (for the Vikings, it’s called “points on the scoreboard”). I’m not unaware that he is an important player for the team.

There is no “I” in team, and, evidently, no “Favre” either.

My friend had me write down a recipe so that it could be made later. I inserted a “1 C Favre” into the ingredients list. I’d like to see him work that out when it comes time to cook.

“You know what NFL stands for, don’t you?” I asked. “National Favre League.”

“You know what they’re playing out there on the field, don’t you?” I asked. “Favreball.”

Favre is a fine player, and seems decent and all. I just wish that the announcers would propose, get the honeymoon over, and start talking about something other than Favre when it comes time to announce the Vikings football games.

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Related Post: Favre Drinking Game

This is the living end.

Because journalists fear using the usual words and think that they must come up with new terms in order to keep their writing fresh, we have to suffer through word abuses such as the word “tucked.” For some reason, stories about celebrities visiting restaurants rarely contain the word “eat” or “eating.”

Celebrities, after all, do not eat food.* Particularly in Britain, where this is used extensively.

They tuck into it.

“…Kerry was pictured tucking into fried chicken…”

“…while Britney tucked into a second plate of fries…”

Would it be too much to say “Britney ate a second plate of fries” instead of envisioning her doing weird things with these alleged fries and her somehow tucking them into her pants Napoleon Dynamite tater-tot style? Does this Kerry person really feel prepared to tuck fried chicken somewhere and save it for later?

I say this, because to me, tuck refers to things done with shirts, children on the cusp of sleep in bed, moves in gymnastics, and what wimpy dogs do with their tails. Since when do I tuck into a plate of fries or fried chicken? How does one tuck into food? Do I somehow lay my head down into my mashed potatoes and hope for the best? Is a fork involved in all this tucking? My dinner napkin?

How I Would Describe My Recent Meal At Applebee’s
If I Told A Friend vs. If I Worked For A Mindless Celebrity Gossip Rag

1. My friend and I ate appetizers. We hogged down mozzarella cheese sticks, quesadillas, buffalo wings, and chicken strips. We ate them all up, pretty much, and waddled out of the restaurant.
2. My friend and I tucked into appetizers. (And I’m just going to stop there because that sounds stupid.)

The only other use I can think of for the word “tuck” is a little over-the-counter wipe that might be needed if these dumb celebrities don’t quit tucking into fries and chicken. And, uh, if I don’t lay off the appetizers.

*That was a throw-away. Enjoy.

I think, if I see another celebrity blurb where some no-brain celebrity claims to be a nerd…

Nerd is the new cool, I guess.

So here we have Megan Fox, who can’t quit talking about sex in just about every news story I regretfully stumble upon, telling us she’s the “biggest nerd.” And why is she nerdy?

I’m the biggest nerd – I love comic books and stuff like that!

That quote is followed by a snippet revealing that Shia LaBeouf, too, claims to be a nerd. Why?

I’m addicted to my Xbox too.

A serious addiction to comic books and gaming might make you nearly functionally illiterate, but that certainly doesn’t fit my definition of a nerd. Comic books and gaming are merely the easily acquired and common interests of a huge majority of the population, which is hardly nerd-like. I mean, Guitar Hero. Yes. Fun, maybe, but much easier than actually learning to play a real guitar. And so forth, down the line, with the analogy.

I used to think a nerd was someone who had their nose stuck in a book and liked science or math or other serious intellectual pursuits and had questionable social skills. It certainly wasn’t some twit actress who can’t keep herself covered in any promotional photo and is doing all she can — just short of saying how much she loves loves loves to watch football — to endear herself to men.

“Look, I like comic books! I’m such a nerd! I wear my bikini while reading them, too! Whee!”

I realize I’m going to bring down the wrath of all the comic book fans and gamers, but I don’t care. To a general degree, I don’t have problems with people who like comic books or video games (though I have a few issues with “serious” and addicted gamers). I just think the whole “look I’m a nerd” has become another annoying accessory and badge of honor for the current time and is an insult to introverted, abstract, esoteric, socially inept and defunct, intelligent nerds everywhere.

From this article, a quote from Brad Pitt:

My vision of an ideal couple is two strong, independent people sharing their lives together.

Um.

That just sounds odd.

The quote of the day comes from Warren Buffett, a man apparently full of hot air, who said that factories in China have different norms for working conditions than those in the U.S., and he won’t “tell the world how to run” their businesses.

Different norms.

That’s one way to put it.

If you’re the world’s richest man, you gotta find some way to live with yourself.

I saw the third installment of The Pirates of the Caribbean yesterday.

I’d forgotten that Keith Richards was in it.

Keith Richards is a lot of things.

Well-preserved, for one. Like beef jerky. Or the Iceman.