Because I'm dope, fly, and all the other things that my neighbors wish they were (one o' them things being "an all around good kid"), I'm going to write posts according to some of your suggestions for the Blog-A-Thon in which I so narrowly missed participating. This way, I'll get to simulate a Blog-A-Thon over a longer period of time. And without sponsors.

So what was my first cognition of God? I don't have one. I suppose now would be as good as any time to give the testimony of my salvation. *brrr* just typing that gives me the evangelical shivers :-D but really, how did this sadistic, dead-horse-beating so-an-so enter into the Kingdom of Heaven as a son and true heir of promise. I suppose I should begin at the beginning.

It all began afore the foundations of the earth. God in His divine wisdom decided to create a wee lad of handsome profile and keen wit to be released upon the earth in 1973. He would be called by many: The Dane. This is his story.

It so happens that at the time that God decided to loose this wee lad upon this worldly sphere, he also decided (for no reason save His mysterious own) that The Dane would grow to be one of His special people. And though This Dane would often act like quite the snacker, we aren't talking about that kind of special. God decided that in spite of all the bad things The Dane would do in the name of his own deluded self-interest, He would set the wee lad apart as an example of His love, charity, mercy, and power to forgive.

Now The Dane was a rotten as they come. In fact, he was as rotten as you are. And as rotten as everyone else too. In fact, he was just a chip off of a whole rotten block of a whole rotten race. The Dane was a man. And to anyone not expecting God to do what He decided to do, that meant Trouble (note the capital T). Fortunately, it doesn't matter what people expect of God because He'll just go right on and do what it is that He wishes to do - whether or not it happens to agree with our expectation, opinions, beliefs, hopes, desires, or dogmas. And speaking from the other side of things, I'll simply say that I am 100% perfectly okay with that.

But what happened that changed This wee rotten Dane, you ask?

The Dane was born. Is that it? Not entirely, no. The Dane was born into the covenant of grace. How's that? The parents of The Dane were two loving children of the Father of all love. Thus, in his birth, The Dane was brought into a wonderful family of the covenant. He grew up as a child of faith. He never knew anything other than the love of the covenant. He was reminded of that love every time he looked to his left. He was reminded of that love every time he looked to his right. In fact, he had to look pretty hard to see anything but the love of the covenant. And when he did see something that spoke of a truth beyond what he knew to be truth, it always turned out to be a mirage.

As The Dane grew, so did his appreciation for that wonderful decision that God had made without his consent so many, many years previous. It warmed The Dane's wee heart to know that in spite of all the mirages he had chased after and would occasionally chase after in the future, and in spite of his natural rottenness, God had decided so very long ago to heap kindness upon him. Often, even in these days, The Dane still bounces in his seat with glee due this fact. And then at times, he grows completely silent, struck awed by the sheer weight of glory made his by the incredible and whelming obedience and sacrifice of One for The Dane.

In short, there was never any first cogniton of God - any first knowledge or experience of the power of the Lord in my life - for it has always been there. My faith in God has never not been. As David, I believed from my mother's breast. I believed on God in time before memory. And for that I thank Him. Forever.

Okay. So welcome to the new site!! Not quite finished, but couldn't wait to show you my new clean fun!! Hope you like the change - I didn't realize how much stuff I had going on at gravenimages.com until I decided to redesign. ick. and now it's hours and hours later and I'm half-gone with craziness. :-o

Sean: glad to see you're still alive

The Dane: barely... ick

Sean: still sick?

The Dane: *coughs up lung*

The Dane: and that wasn't even my lung

Sean: that's not too healthy

Sean: you shouldn't be eating other people's lungs

The Dane: no. not in this lifetime it ain't

The Dane: i didn't... it just grew there

Sean: grew there?

Sean: howso?

The Dane: I dunno... it wasn't there last week, but now it was

The Dane: so I coughed it up

The Dane: lemme see...

The Dane: there a property stamp on it

The Dane: it says...

The Dane: "Ex Libris Brandon Wason"

Sean: yes?

The Dane: it must be his

Sean: that's a pickle

The Dane: or from one of his victims

Sean: he's short a lung

Sean: his victims?

The Dane: don't ask him about them or you could become the next

Sean: what if i ask you about them?

The Dane: I don't know much about them because I haven't asked... i DO value my life you know

Sean: yea, some people do

The Dane: yes, several people value my life. not the least of whom am I

Sean: indeed

Sean: so, what do you know about these victims?

The Dane: they're all dead victims. I know that much

The Dane: and they're all young girls

The Dane: and some guys of different ages

The Dane: some women of other ages too

Sean: you're kidding

The Dane: and a couple beetles and stray cats

The Dane: but I can hardly count them

The Dane: nope

The Dane: I'm not

Sean: what about dogs?

The Dane: it's a dangerous business being me and knowing what i know

The Dane: no... he hates dogs

Sean: does he eat his victim's lungs, or what?

The Dane: he only victimizes those whom he enjoys

Sean: ohh

Sean: apparently

The Dane: no... I don't think he eats them.... but from what I can tell, he stamps them "Ex Libris" and causes them to grow in the lungs of those who follow his trail of destruction

Sean: such as yourself?

The Dane: Yes, I'll have to be more careful now. I didn't know he had become aware of my investigations

Sean: yea, i think i told him

Sean: not sure though

Sean: it was a long nite, that nite

The Dane: you're doomed. If he knows that you know that there even exists a trail then he knows that you know too much. And your knowledge could prove fatal in the worst sort of way

Sean: nah, i think i'm fine

Sean: thanks for the warning though

Sean: it's greatly appreciated

The Dane: Yes. It's assured. Your doom is nigh.

Sean: y'know, that could be linked with prophecy i recieved last nite:

Sean: "Death will come to you on swift wings."

Sean: i thought nothing of it till now

The Dane: He's trained hummingbirds you know.

The Dane: Killer hummingbirds.

The Dane: swift wings

Sean: hmm...

Sean: they still hum, right?

The Dane: sometimes.

Sean: they prolly kill more though, huh?

The Dane: last i czeched he was working on a silencer made from milk cartons for them, but hadn't yet perfected it

The Dane: but that was weeks ago

Sean: milk cartons...

Sean: he's clever

Sean: too clever...

The Dane: that's what I'm talking about

Sean: do you really think you and me are in danger, Seth?

The Dane: Well, I may not be, but you are most certainly so - playing fast and loose with information like you do, it's a wonder he hasn't victimized you already

The Dane: unless...

Sean: unless?

The Dane: he doesn't like you. remember, he only victimize those whom he enjoys

Sean: what about Wendy?

The Dane: Either he's onto her and keeping her under a watchful eye for fear of her power or she's in on his game or she's simply an automaton built for his pleasure and really doesn't come into play in this terrible scene

The Dane: they're all horrifying prospects if you ask me

Sean: do you think that these are all horrifying prospects?

The Dane: every one of them

Sean: hmm

Sean: i agree

Sean: Wendy did try to eat me once

Sean: do you think that there's a connection?

The Dane: there must be, I'll bet she thought you had her lung

Sean: well, she did attempt to get my lung

Sean: i thought nothing of it at the time...

The Dane: hmm... now is the time to recognize truth and begin to walk more circumspectly

The Dane: and so do I hereby admonish you:

Sean: ya do?

The Dane: beware for you parts, by day and by night, for that grimmest of reapers is nigh and his icy grip knows no friendship save that cold and everlasting fellowship of the buried

Sean: thanks Seth

Sean: greatly appreciated

The Dane: de nada

Sean: i know what that means

Sean: i'm proud of myself

The Dane: good boy *pats head*

Sean: now i feel as though i should bark

The Dane: good, he might think you're a dog and leave you be

Sean: i think him hating me is enough, don't ya agree

The Dane: could be

Sean: should I try to kill him first?

Sean: wouldn't that be alot easier then living in fear all my life?

The Dane: no. he's unstoppable. and guarded by fierce-and-likely-silent hummingbird of doom

The Dane: you would be victimized for certain

Sean: i'm pretty sure if i ran up to him with a baseball and went for his knee, I'd win

Sean: that's just me though

The Dane: you'd lose and find that your bat making its new home warm and snuggly inside your colon

Sean: he'd get it to fit in there?

The Dane: the hummingbirds would do it

The Dane: he never dirties himself in such displays

Sean: so, what if I got the hummingbirds?

Sean: would he fight me then?

The Dane: how would you get the hummingbirds? there's too many of them! you'd be a fool to try it

The Dane: and after the hummingbirds, there'se always Wendy

Sean: which one, in your humble opinion, is more dangerous?: Wendy or the birds?

The Dane: personally, the birds, but I'm sure there's got to be something sinister about Wendy. Otherwise, he wouldn't have built her

Sean: what is she made out of?

The Dane: Oh. and after Wendy, he's always got the wheat to protect him and carry out his dastardly wishes

The Dane: you can never forget about the wheat

Sean: wheat?

The Dane: she's made of lungs

Sean: ohh

The Dane: YES THE WHEAT

Sean: i coulda figure that

Sean: what's so dangerous about the wheat

The Dane: GOOD GRACIOUS MAN!! HAVE I TAUGHT YOU NOTHING???

The Dane: just look at it! It's got huge fangs

The Dane: and look at those powerful...hind legs

Sean: Wendy or the wheat?

The Dane: the wheat you silly fool!

Sean: oh, of course

Sean: i gotcha

Sean: so, it's looking pretty darn hopeless, huh?

The Dane: I would just let sleeping wasons lie.

The Dane: Cuz you don't want the kinda fury that would surely arise from demanding them to tell the truth

The Dane: nobody wants that kinda fury

Sean: that's why i have a stick, my friend

The Dane: stick or automatic, neither will help you escape from the Fury

Sean: automatic stick?

The Dane: it's suped up with nitrous and everything

Sean: oh, i get it

Sean: i'm a lil' slow

Sean: when you fear for your life, your brain slows down a tad

The Dane: you're probably missing a lung

The Dane: or maybe your pineal gland

The Dane: that's another fav

Sean: my head does feel lighter

Sean: and it is alot harder to breathe

Sean: is there a connection, do you think Dane?

The Dane: either that. or the Fear is coming down on you like a fat woman carrying two dozen concrete bricks

Sean: how fat, exactly?

The Dane: we're talking orca fat

The Dane: but it's really the bricks that'll get you

Sean: oh, okay

Sean: that's what i figured too

Sean: i just wasn't that sure whether it would be the bricks or the lady

The Dane: in fact, if it weren't for that cursed wheat, I'd say they were your main problem

The Dane: but then it always comes back to the wheat doesn't it?

Sean: i'm afraid so

Sean: darned the luck!

The Dane: don't blame Luck if your mad enough to cross Sleepy Wason with your tomfoolery!

The Dane: Take responsibility for yourself man

The Dane: its all about the respect

Sean: and the stupid wheat!

The Dane: well that goes without saying

The Dane: just talking about the wheat gives me the fear

Sean: scares you as much as it scares me, eh?

The Dane: at least. the Fear comes down on a man like a fat woman carrying two dozen concrete bricks

The Dane: unstoppable. simply unstoppable

Sean: yea, we went over that...

Sean: i imagine so

Sean: it's the bricks that get ya, right?

The Dane: or the fat lady or the hummingbirds of wendy or that freakin' wheat

The Dane: or his minions

The Dane: they're everywhere and while neither smart nor powerful, they do have numbers

The Dane: and that kinda math we coould all do without

Sean: there are strenth in numbers, my friend

Sean: we could do the math for fun though

The Dane: who cares about their strength... while they're busy confusing you, the wheat takes its time with you like you were a smooth native woman in the arms of an Italian lover.

The Dane: it's terror unbridled

Sean: gosh...

The Dane: UNBRIDLED!!!

Sean: i didn't know it was that bad

Sean: unbridled, eh?

The Dane: UNBRIDLED I say!

Sean: i know how that goes

Sean: gotcha

Sean: so, what all can we do?

The Dane: go about your life as normal. pretend it's all a hoax. if we're all lucky, this'll just turn out to be some sick dream and we'll all wake up in the arm of beautiful Venutians (they have lavender skin - ZOWIE!)

Sean: purple skin?

The Dane: NO! no no no no no No!

The Dane: Lavender!

The Dane: Have you no subtlety man?!

Sean: it sounds nice

The Dane: heavenly

Sean: prolly not, no

The Dane: mmmm.... heavenly

The Dane: then there's nothing I can do for you

The Dane: it's only a matter of time then

Sean: matter of time till what?

The Dane: HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN THE WHEAT?

the fear? the brick lady? milk cartons? any of it?

The Dane: Am I talking to wood here?

Sean: of course not!

The Dane: Holy smokes!! They did get your pineal gland! Worse than lobotomy!!!

Sean: i'm afraid so...

The Dane: *sigh* then my advice falls on deaf ears. *shakes head and shuffles off into the sunset*

Well now, it's time I made my decision. I am going to have to drop out of the Blogathon. I have both a lung and a sinus infection, and what my body needs is a lot of rest instead of a lot of fighting to stay awake. I sincerly apologize to all my erstwhile sponsors and hope that you won't be too disappointed in me. As a gesture of goodwill, I will send you out genuine 100% honest-to-goodness doodles to reward your good intentions :-D In spite of no longer being a Blogathonner, I will still post a lot more than usual this weekend just to stay in the spirit of things. Oh, and there's a cool surprise set for Sunday afternoon as well.

For the longest time, I had believed by rote that in response to the heathen accusation, "You can't legislate morality!" - that I should simply respond with, "But every law is a legislation of morality!" Somewhere along the line, my conception of this argument changed. I don't know the When, but I can certainly extrapolate on the Why.

Simply put, though it is obviously possible to legislate morality (the Puritans tried to do this in England), I think such is a mistaken way to look at society and law. Even as it is entirely possible to legislate morality, it is likewise possible to legislate amorally (that is, entirely apart from moral value one way or another). And quite frankly, I think this is the way in which we should view the legislative system here in America.

Rather than viewing the legal system as one designed to make laws to prohibit immorality, we should view it simply as a system by which society regulates the behavior of its citizens to a manner desirable to itself. This doesn't necessarily reflect morality, though society's desired behavior for its citizens and morality often overlap. Two examples: anti-trust laws and murder. The legislative ability for society to regulate monopolies doesn't reflect any sort of moral values (i.e., it's not wrong to be so good in business that nobody buys any product but yours), but simply exists because Bill Gates makes society feel as though its freedom to compete is stifled (though it is, of course, wrong in thinking this). Murder is, of course, very wrong and murderers deserve to have the life wrung out of them by powerful Czechoslovakian women - but the reason society incarcerates murders (and sometimes removes them from earthly life) is that We Don't Like Murder Because Murderers Deprieve Us of Our Most Precious Commodity.

See, the thing is: once you intellectually give the government to mandate to legislate morality, you are forced to hypocrisy or forced to unbelievable extremism. If moral right and wrong is to be the measure for our legal system, then we cannot cease to write laws to cover every sin. A punishment for every crime is the only honest fulfillment of the legislation of morality. Did you lie and tell your wife you think her new haircut looks great? It's a night in the pokey for you. Did you chant, "We're Number One! We're Number One!" after you're team finished in top form in the Lower Oakland Bowling League finals? That's a $500 fine and 30 hours of community service. Did you let it slip out one too many times that the reason you had to break it off with your ex was that he struggles with pornography and a checkered past ("Details available for the asking")? Your driver's license will be revoked for six months.

Personally, I prefer to think that the purpose of law in this country is to protect our lives, our liberties, and our properties. Murderers rob us of life, which we as a society enjoy; therefore, we make it illegal. Thieves rob us of our property, which we as a society enjoy; therefore, we make it illegal. Liberals and fundementalists rob us of our liberty to speak our minds freely; therefore, we make them - uhm, well let's hope it's just a matter of time ;-P

In any case, this should really make the laws we stand for or against very simple choices. Law against murder? Yay! Law against drugs? Boo! Law against abortion? Yay! Law against homosexuality? Boo! Law against fraud? Yay! Law against prostitution? Boo!

And important to note: the legality of something doesn't mean anything morally. It's legal to lie to your mother and tell her you've finished your homework so you can play Nintendo. But it's still sin. Even if it was legal to go to a prostitute, it would still be sin. We should begin distancing our conception of law as a function of morality; this will keep our societal preferences seperate from our understanding of righteousness. Thank yo. Kind of rambling, but there you are.

Though I had possessed a fairly robust site called GravenImages for about two years, on 20 July 2000 I added what is known in the popular parlance as a "blog" to the site and it quickly took over as the main attraction. Yessiree. Today is li'l bloggy's birthday. Two years of occasionally regular (and I'll leave you to figger out what that means) postings on life, the universe, and everything. What fun! Two years of blogging / flogging / beating / torturing / prodding / nudging / slugging dead horses - and y'know what? It feels like it's been twice as long. Maybe blogging increases the duration of one's experience of life and thereby grants longevity-approaching-immortality to the blogger? Or maybe time flies when you're having fun - I'll leave you to figger out the converse?

In any case, here are some highlights from the last two years:
· 27 July 2000 - I write the first of many responses to Dani's reaction to something I've said (and this in the pre-comment era).
· 1 August 2000 - The first time I ever use the phrase (which I'm thinking of franchising out soon), poop-on-a-stick.
· 27 Se... nah, y'know what? It's all highlights and so I recommend as a commemoration of the last two years of labour I've put into this, go back to the beginning and read all the way through (boiled cabbage jokes and all!). You'll find yourself rewarded in more ways than you could ever count :-D Unless you cut out early - right Jed?

Brandon, who does still blog, came in to work still morning in a state of ire toward Yours Truly. What offense had I brought before him? What vile deed had I come to own? Simply this:

In a fantasy he had dreamt mere hours earlier, I had fouled his scheme of robbery and gotten us all caught in the very bank which was to be the victim of our design. How had I - as a master of cunning and theft - how had I bungled this task so heartily that our destiny was to end in shackles? Simply this:

I had stubbornly chosen to wait in line for my turn to come. While most bank robbers would leap to the fore, demand the money, and bolt, I had a different demeanor in mind. What could I have been thinking? Is not every moment one not to be spared in such scenarios? Were not our uniformed adversaries spiriting toward us in all haste? For what reason could I possibly jeopardize our entire operation? Simply this:

I may be a criminal, but some things are just wrong. Cutting in line is one of those. Is there no honor among thieves? Should our Emily Post be thrown without regard from our daily routine simply because the, quote, cops're coming!! I don't think so. With danger ready to burst through the windows or back door in the very next moment, what kind of man puts the entire plan at risk to maintain dignity? What does Brandon's dreamscape speak of my character? What kind of man am I to allow capture to reign our scheme rather than blacken the eye of decorum? Simply this:

The right kind of man :-D

Well now, since three people have agreed to sponsor me in the upcoming Blogathon, I plan to go full steam ahead for the event, now ten days away. The thing is: since I'll be posting 48 times in those 24 hours, I'll need some ideas for topics. Now while I always have a coupla' things to write about, I certainly welcome suggestions for more - I mean think about it: I dont even post 48 times in a month let alone a single day. So, please, let your imagination fly, use the comments section here, and let me know: what do you want to see me discuss on this here Hippos Nekros.

One of the accolades gracing the rear cover of Nabiel Kanan's Lost Girl is "This book will prove hard to put down!" It really wasn't. A 90-page graphic novel that's pretty light on the dialogue, Lost Girl only took about twenty-five minutes to read. And then I put it down. That easy.

More interesting was another blurb at home on the graphic novellette's back cover.

ComicsLit. Novels in the true sense about exploring our lives, our feelings, our experiences. In comic art. In graphic novels. At times uplifting, at times controversial - always insightful and enriching. Here are the most intelligent comics the world has to offer.

The publisher's coda I gather. And a good one. I still work preaching the good news that the graphic novel's marriage of art and literature is truly capable of producing works of poignancy and care, works of intelligence and verve, works of fear and trembling - in short, works of the human spirit. While there will always be the spandex-adventures, catering to the hormonally imbalanced teen geeks, there is a-whole-nother world of stories penned for the serious, the curious, the intelligent, and those willing to discover. These are the lasting works of the industry. A generation hence, none will care about Aunt May's discovery of her nephew's arachnoidal alter ego (just as none today lament over Jean Grey's death twenty years ago in X-Men #137). A generation from now, however, people will still be touched by Spiegelman's Maus. The difference is almost tangible.

Well, at long last, I have updated my links list a bit. It now reflects more than just a glance of Blogdom, but also contains reference tools, political links, and sheer unadulterated comedy. Also, for some of you who have been longing for me to reciprocate links, I have done so to some degree (too many links would deprecate the value of having links at all and so I have left some people off). Also, I have maintained the free-floatin' nature of the links simply because several of you have noted how you like to keep the window floating behind the scenes throughout your workday so you can surf at will. Blog on you rock stars, you.

Now that I'm no closer to being able to pin down beauty definitionally than I ever was, I think I'll tackle something easier: art. People seem to have a really difficulty describing art. Is it perception? If it is, then is the object even necessary? Is it the object itself? If so, then can we not just use a mould to mass produce The Thinker so that everyone can enjoy art for relatively little fare? Is art simply the expression of its artist? If so, then isn't an artist's "Good morning. How's the weather?" just as much an instance of art as is his life-long masterwork?

Quite frankly, I think these explorations of art miss the obvious. Art is simply the tangible expression of a person's creative spirit - that is, it is an object absolutely infused with the creative skillwork of an individual.

Obviously from my definition, I don't consider ballet or theatre to be art - though there are certainly usually elements of art involved. And there may be artistic influence present (if by artistic we simply mean showing skilled creativity in one's labours). But these are not art in my world. Fine cultural achievements, perhaps, but something other than art. And this doesn't lessen them or even make them greater than art. Just different.

And of course there is a difference between good art and just the regular ol' kinda art art. Good art makes use of ultimate skills, subourdinating them to the creative conscience to produce an aesthetic marvel. A thing of beauty. Part of the reason why "good art" is hard to judge. It relies again upon that thing we can't seem to figure out: beauty.

Also, this purposed creative skill is the reason why most Pollack rip-offs (and perhaps Pollack himself) shouldn't be considered art. Not even bad art. Just something else. A dilligent practice of flattery perhaps.

And something else: I think we fool ourselves if we imagine that art has to speak something to its audience. Good art doesn't need to speak to the depths of the human experience and bad art can. It's irrelavent really. One of my favorite pieces, Bernini's "Ecstasy of St. Theresa," doesn't speak much to me except to the praise of the man's incredible talent to make rough stone appear smooth and fluid as mercury. Monet's "Water Lilies" is just pretty. That's all. The art of Mike Mignola is hip, cool, and jive. But it doesn't proclaim the frailty of man or the hope of the human soul or the fear of mortality or the puissance of love or any of those caricatured traits touted by the cinematic art critic.

Anyway, just some thoughts.

I've pretty much narrowed my choices for a new domain to amomentwithseth.com (very tea-and-crumpets with lotsa lace) and nowheresville.us (still digging on the hip factor). A couple new possibilities have arisen but I'm probably just enamoured with their novelty. These are:
• retardsandwich.com
• magicunderwear.com
• danishboogie.com (or even boogiedaneproductions.com)

Yes. It's true. I have an inability to make decisions ;-P

What IS beauty?

Beauty. So intangible. So fleeting. I know it when I see it, but have a devil of a time at any attempt to define it. Plato would speak of all things partaking in a greater or lesser degree in the Form of Beauty. In spite of his obvious philosophical shortcomings, I will speak of beauty in such terms and qualifications. As starkly different in feature and shape as many beautiful women are, they all seem to share in something lovely. Something that excites the eyes, melts the heart, and rouses the libido. What is this wondrous thing they all share in? Beauty. What is beauty? I couldn't begin to tell you.

But I know it when I see it. I could be driving through heavy traffic on Coast Highway on a sickeningly warm afternoon, concentrating on the red lights ahead and above that mock and scorn my inability to move them to compassion—when a fleeting glance out of the corner of a sleepy eye will make all the bad go away. Beauty. There it went. And I am better for it. What was it you ask? Got me.

But I knew it when I saw it. I could be attending the most boring of lectures on a subject required by the State as a result of my wayward driving skills after noticing that bit of beauty from the corner of a sleepy eye on a sickeningly warm afternoon and the presence of a beautiful woman could make that most boring of lectures into nectar fit for gods. That wisp of beauty could make life alright again. Why? I couldn't say.

But, yes. Life does get better when I see it. Michael Rapaport's character in the film, Beautiful Women theorizes that a beautiful woman is "nothing but bottled promise—the promise of a new tomorrow!" Why does he believe this? I don't really know.

But I think he may be onto something, because yes, I know beauty when I see it.

I'm bent outta shape. I went to Amazon.com to purchase a copy of the old Cinema Paradiso dvd released a few years back and found that it was out of print. Yet Amazon did link to Amazon sellers (private shops which carry stock of which the warehouses run out) who were selling the disc. Happy as a clam, I purchased the film even though it was slightly over-priced, knowing that when it's re-released, it would likely be the Director's Cut with the additional 50 minutes (and that, I did not want). In any case, the disc arrived last night and guess what? I can't even play the freakin' thing as its not compatible with my region code. There was nothing on the Amazon page to alert me that I would be receiving a Region 2 disc. Grr... and not only that, but it's the Director's Cut on Region 2. So even if I could watch it, it's not the version I wanted!!! Arg!

Alright, alright. Because I know a select few of you kids do love the whole Americo-politico aspect of things, I thought I'd resurrect a little Dead Horse Classic by Proxy. This time lsat year, there was a bit of hubbub over at the DYL site and many comments ensued. A young chap named Erick wrote a post and, if memory serves, in the related back-and-forth, I believe I outlined just how I feel about patriotism and why. I have reproduced nearly the entire discussion here for your reading pleasure. Enjoy!

Abstract:
I celebrate the liberty that being an American grants me, but I cannot celebrate the heinous act of pride and self-will that bought us that freedom: the American revolution.

Okay. So today on July 4th, I'm not gonna write about what I think about the Founding Fathers or about patriotism or about national pride or about any of those targets that I've picked off in the past. Too easy. Too cliché. And heck, haven't I written enough on that recently?

Today's topic is different (but still slightly related) and springs from events of Tuesday afternoon when I had the privilege of meeting Rebecca Garang (the wife of the leader of Southern Sudan).

For some background, as I am led to understand it, the nation of Sudan is in the midst of a rather lopsided civil war. The official Sudanese government, based in Northern Sudan, is Muslim and has declared ji-had against the southern half of the country, which is a mix of paganism/animism and Christianity. The way it has shaped up is a southerly-sweeping genocide - idealizing the elimination of all the people in the south of the nation (by 1996 the death toll had reached 1,000,000 with an additional 2,000,000 displaced refugees). For its defense, the Sudan People's Liberation Army (SPLA) has arisen against the National Islamic Front (NIF) regime and fights as the under-dog in a fairly lopsided war. John Garang is the commander-in-chief of the SPLA and while he endeavored to speak to President Bush about his nation's troubles, I got to see his wife (who seems very nice and very tall).

So then. What is my Independence Day topic? The Ethics of Rebellion.

As I listened to Madame Garang speak of her hopes for "New Sudan" (what some are calling the lower half of the nation), I thought about the politics involved, the events leading to our own nation's founding, the way I feel about the believer's reaction to his government, and the way the first century church reacted to the Roman government. I didn't come to any hard-fast conclusions, but here are some thoughts and questions.

• First off: Is there any circumstance in which the believer's participation in armed rebellion is acceptable? I would hazard to say, "No." Rebellion against taxes? No. Rebellion against distasteful legislation (e.g., the outlaw of slave-owning)? No. Rebellion against State-mandated murder (e.g., the Nazi genocide; or even abortion by some opinion)? No. What about rebellion against the outlaw of Christianity? Still no.

Does that seem extreme? An absolute prohibition of involvement in armed rebellion? I don't really think so. We know that rather than fan the flames of revolutionary excitement, both Christ and Paul encouraged submission to the government that God - in His omniscience and supremacy - placed over each and every believer. We know that these governments were as corrupted as any today. We also know that the early church went passively, if not willingly, to its doom. They could have banded together in revolt. But they didn't. Perhaps it just didn't seem Christian to them. Perhaps they were altogether willing to "turn the other cheek." In any case, they died before breaking out in arms.

• Second then: what about after the initial rebellion has begun? This is something I'm not so certain about. If a rebellion has begun and sides are firmly established, what should my involvement be if I am caught behind enemy lines as it were. What if America split at the Mississippi and the western states declared their independence from America and decided to go communist? Fighting ensues. The western states pool an armed resistance against the Federal government, which has deployed troops to wrest back control of the West. This began two and a half years ago. So what do I do? Do I accept the People's State of the Continental West as my "new" government? Or do I still owe fealty to the USA?

This seems to be in line with the circumstances of Madame Garang and the SPLA. Except the SPLA has been around for nineteen years and history seems to lend legitimacy to upstart governments (e.g., America). And you know what? I'm not dead certain where I'd come down on the ethics of this situation. Any ideas? It's a complicated issue.

Okay. So I'm not sure what it matters to the legal aspect of the decision even if it turns out that the girl for whom the Pledge case was made was really a Christian and didn't agree with her father's prosecution of the case. I'm sure some will discover some sort of profound meaning or significance in the revelation, but as for me? I just don't see how it matters.

This strikes me as the same sort of interesting, but ultimately trivial detail as the revelation that the Columbinos killed a devout and caring Christian girl along with all the jocks and random unfortunates. Interesting sure. But in the end, not a thing that bears upon the issues at hand.

We get all sorts of interesting email at work. Here is one we recieved - followed by my answer. Sorry to be short, but it's lunchtime!

the destruction of our heritage:
Here is the passage from David Duke's "My Awakening," that I think you'll like.

"Ironically, those of liberal persuasion should be just as concerned about Jewish supremacism and the racial destruction of America as conservatives are. Ecologists should only have to look at the population explosion and environmental devastation of the Third World to know what is in store for America's and the World's ecosystems if the unbridled masses of the Third World overrun us.

Feminists should consider the fate of women's rights if the Western World becomes subsumed by the Third World – societies where women's rights are nonexistent and millions of young girls are enslaved, circumcised and mutilated.

Civil Libertarians must realize that the epidemic criminal behavior of non-Whites directly results in draconian laws and the destruction of civil liberties for all. Believers in compassion, charity, brotherhood and love must understand that these attributes are most possible and most practiced and appreciated in Western monoracial communities, not multiracial ones. Acquiescence to Jewish supremacism violates every moral principle that liberals claim to profess.

The real issue is race. It is expressed in the wealth and poverty of nations, the scepter of power or the cry of the powerless, the pulse of history, and in the laws of evolution and life itself. Now, our people must take up the cause of our own right to life and the preservation of the sacred cultural forms that only we can create. Every healthy form of life on this planet has an instinct for self-preservation, it is time that we find ours and nurture it.

Regards
W.S.

Dear William,

In fact, race •is• the real issue. But not the weak-kneed understanding of race that Mr. Duke supposes. The real issue is that age-old issue of the race of Adam - the one race of Adam.

Mankind in whole, not in part, is fallen, wicked, and degenerate. He is the villain of ten thousand tales. He is wholly depraved in the totality of his being. He distracts himself from his evident and whelming sin by imagining schism within humanity - by imagining that ethnic differences constitute difference of race.

How pitiful man - that he should strut and bob so. That he should suppose his wicked self to be better than his depraved brothers. The great monstrosity of this common assessment by mankind is its blasphemy against the very God who created him. Man, created in the image of God, in the height of hubris, imposes racial classification upon those who share the same phenotypical structure. Man denounces man as not being man. Man denounces man as not being in the image of God. Therefore, man denounces God.

There is one hope for mankind. That hope is found alone in the life-blood of Christ Jesus the Lord. Repentance is the sole means to that hope. Repent and believe. Repent, believe, and enter into the heavenly kingdom. A kingdom without needless classification. A kingdom where Jew and Greek are not distinguished because they are of one blood: Christ's blood.

Let mankind, in the depths of her tragic wickedness, plot and scheme and hate and fear. Fear not yourself, but trust in the love and power of Christ. Hate not your neighbor nor your enemy, for the kingdom of God is not concerned with such. Scheme not to prosper yourself, but trust in the might of the Lord for it is the work of the Gospel for which you are meant. Love your neighbor as yourself. Lay down your life for your enemy. Rejoice in the unity in the body of Christ. Fellowship with the saints no matter there earthly dominion. Trust on Christ. Believe in Christ. Throw yourself upon His mercy and take up His loving character as your own.

Yours, in Christ,
S.T. Hahne