Tag Archives: Civilization

“Fuck Putin” — a moral confection

Just the other day, God woke up from an interminable nap that seemed like hours, but really had begun roundabout the 3rd Century BCE, after God had popped just half of a Divine Tizanidine. . An angel came to collect the divine bedpan, which was full of chalcedony and sardonyx crystals. God asked the angel how things were going on Earth. . “Um.” The angel scuttled out of the Holy of Holies bed chamber. “Oh boy, better find Gabriel!” . By the time Gabriel received the news that the Omnipresent One had awakened, it was a bit too late. A roar unlike a roar—more an infinite cacophony of pissed-offedness—tore the fabric of space-time, and even unspace-untime. . Those with spiritually discerning ears the Universe over heard what sounded like “What the fuck!!!!” in all mortal and immortal tongues. . “Oh boy,” said Gabriel, who booked a quick flight to a Universe several dimensions over and which was known for its lovely cabanas and tasty liqueurs. . The reason God yawlped such an Almighty yawlp was simple: human beings, who had been vested with a quasi-Imago Dei—via a very unique Evolutionary…

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What is Reverence for Life?

  Swimming with my eight-year-old daughter requires patience.  Actually, she’s pretty much a mermaid and can swim circles around anything just shy of a dolphin.  But when the sun starts turning your skin oh-so-crispy bacon and your fingertips begin to resemble wrinkly raisins, she’s ready to devote another hour-plus in the pool, not to butterfly strokes, but to rescuing ants and bees and other creepy-crawlies that have fallen hapless victim to the water.   My daughter is amphibian in her devotion to preserving life.  The other night, in the dry confines of our living room, she lectured me following my “coldblooded murder” of a centipede that I caught trespassing across our carpet.  Her earnest chiding caused me to consider my thoughtless act of centi-cide.  Later that evening, my daughter asleep, I redeemed myself.  Another many-legged arthropod reared its forcipules; this time I captured it with a napkin and released it into the untamed wilderness beyond my porch door.   These days, I can hardly get away with swatting a mosquito in my daughter’s presence.  Yet I have no one other than myself to blame.  I’m the one who taught…

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