Do Words Matter?

The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.
Franklin Delano Roosevelt

George W. Bush
The only thing we have to fear is ... you know ... being scared. In other words, don’t be scared.

Nancy Pelosi
I've said it before and I'll say it again. In the new year, with a new Congress and a new president, fear will be off the table.

Barack Obama
Well, so here’s. What I would say. The only thing we have to fear. Is four more years. Of the same. Failed. Uh. Economic policy. And fear. Uh. Itself.

John McCain
The point is, the only thing we have to fear, my friends, is — as I found out years ago in a prison cell — fear itself.

Joe Biden
When I walked through the streets of Scranton, a senior citizen, an ex-millworker named Bob Pastaverde, living on social security and a small pension, he stopped me and he asked, “Senator Biden,” he asked, “do we have anything to fear?” And I told him, “No, Bob, nothing. The only thing we have to fear, you and me, is, as my mother would say, God bless her, fear itself.”

Sarah Palin
With a team of mavericks like John McCain and me, and also the strong American workers in those small towns just like Wasilla all over this great country of ours, also, well, doggone it, the only thing we have to be afraid of is just plain ol’ bein’ afraid, youbetcha.

Let's Face It: Yunshui Is a Pain in the Ass

Yunshui created a meme and challenged me to take part. I’m not crazy about memes, but he’s a pal, and I love having the excuse to write about books. Unlike he did, though, I’m not including any links, because I’m not a goddamned bookmobile; you can go look them up for yourselves if you’re curious. I’m also not tagging anyone, because, holy shit, this took me a long time to write.

Basically, Yunshui asked meme-too-ers to write down the book they "most appreciate" in each of the following categories, and to "give a brief reason as to why you do so (and maybe what you think your choice says about you)." Here are my answers, but without any Popular Psychology crap. Sorry, but I don't think of my personal library as a Rorschach test. So, as you read this, please don't get any blots on the books.

The Classic — The Complete Works of Shakespeare by ???

OK, that’s a little bit of a cheat, since it’s really a collection, not a single work. Also, it’s not a Classic in the Greco-Roman sense. However, where would English be today without those plays and poems? Whether they were, in fact, written by someone actually named Shakespeare or not, the author expanded and enlivened the language as no one else has ever done. In addition, Shakespeare (or whoever) was the first English writer to delve into character in a way that made his creations transcend the page (and/or stage) and take on lives of their own. And, wow. Just think of the great quotes — far better and richer than anything in the silly bible — filled with wit and wisdom and the deliciousness of speech.

The Biography — Tie: Confessions of a Failed Southern Lady by Florence King and A Walker in the City by Alfred Kazin

I hate biographies, and rarely read them. However, Florence King’s is hilarious and nasty, so how could I resist? Kazin’s short book is more of a memoir than a biography, but it’s so vivid in its sensory details that it deserves mention.

The Science Book — The Beak of the Finch by Jonathan Weiner

I’ve never read a better introduction to evolutionary biology than this. And the information is all wrapped up in the fascinating story of a married couple of Princeton University scientists who spent years on the island of Daphne Major (one of the Galápagos) studying real-time evolutionary changes in finches.

The Short Story Collection — Cosmicomics by Italo Calvino

Ooooh, brilliant. You can read more about it here.

The Foreign Novel — Tie: If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler by Italo Calvino and The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky.

I assume that Yunshui means by “foreign” anything not originally written in English. As far as the Calvino goes: Ooooh, brilliant. Again. You, the reader, are the main character in this novel, which is written, largely, in the second person. In the course of this witty metaphysical tale, which is really a long philosophical ramble on the act of reading itself, you somehow manage to begin ten other works, each of which is interrupted, for one reason or another, after the last page of the first chapter. I don’t remember much about The Karamazov Boys, since my Dostoyevsky period was way before most of my readers were born. Basically, I threw this one in for snob appeal. But I do recall drinking a lot of vodka while reading his novels, and dining at least three or four times at the Russian Tea Room. So I think of those books as quite tasty.

The Play — Tie: Harvey by Mary Chase and The Norman Conquests by Alan Ayckborn

I didn’t think it was fair to single out Hamlet or Macbeth or As You Like It or Much Ado About Nothing or ... any other Shakespeare play. I enjoy reading Shaw, but I think his works are enormously dull in the theater. It took the songs of Lerner and Loewe to make Pygmalion entertaining. Harvey on the other hand, features a six-foot-tall invisible rabbit. How can you beat that? The Norman Conquests is actually a trilogy of full-length plays: Table Manners, Living Together, and Round and Round the Garden. All three plays are set in a different area of the very same house at the very same times. Characters enter and exit from the kitchen, living-room, and garden, only to appear in a different play — which you’ve either seen earlier or will see later. In the theater, it’s best to attend these on three consecutive nights. Although each work stands perfectly well on its own, the humorous effect is cumulative. Reading the trilogy in your armchair, you can flip back and forth to be astounded by the playwright’s cleverness.

The Children’s Book — Alice in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass by Lewis Carroll

I was tempted to write “The Bible by God,” but that would have just been a cheap joke. I don’t think the desert anthology is written up to the standards of a bright child. Aside from the bible, though, the Lewis Carroll books are probably the best examples of logic in the service of nonsense that we have. They’re charming and extremely funny, and contain some of the greatest wordplay in literature. If you really want a treat, pick up “The Definitive Version” of Martin Gardner’s The Annotated Alice.

The Philosophy Book — The Federalist Papers by James Madison, Alexander Hamilton, and John Jay

I think philosophy is mostly a waste of time, as anyone who visits this blog regularly knows. Plato’s works are great fun to read; Hume’s skepticism is immensely appealing; and Descartes’ Meditations are noteworthy for pointing out that if you’re thinking, you’re alive. But so what? Political philosophy, on the other hand, fascinates me, and can actually have practical consequences. I always get choked up when I turn to The Federalist. It demonstrates clearly how the Founding Fathers (not just the three writers) thought long and hard about what it means to be free, and how to create a government to best embody liberty. The Anti-Federalist Papers, by a variety of authors, are also required reading. Although they don’t agree with the solution, those writers had similar ideals. How fortunate for us in America that such an admirable group of guys battled it out intellectually just when the country was being born.

The Poem — The Complete Poems of e e cummings

I cheated again. Tough shit. You try to single out any one of these little jewels as being better than the others. If I had to pick a single favorite poem, it would probably be either “Ozymandias” by Shelley, “The Second Coming” by Yeats, or “Casey at the Bat” by Ernest Lawrence Thayer. As a side note, apropos of nothing: I love Ogden Nash but hate Emily Dickinson.

The Travelogue — Tie: Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift and Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino

Yeah, they’re fiction. So what? Find me better travel writing.

The Sci-Fi/Fantasy Novel — The Once and Future King by T.H. White

I hate these categories of books and never read them. When I was a child, I devoured Isaac Asimov’s works, but they suck as literature. In general, sci-fi is far too impressed with itself and the writing is overblown. Fantasy as a genre is, for the most part, stupid. On the other hand, I love the legends of King Arthur, and White’s retelling is the best in modern English.

Mystery Novel — Tie: The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett and The Long Goodbye by Raymond Chandler

Even though Yunshui included the ridiculous genres of sci-fi and fantasy, he omitted this important one. Hammett wrote as if he were a great journalist with a limited number of column inches. True to his real-life Pinkerton background, he saw and heard everything around him. But his “reports” had to be concise and to the point. I far prefer him to Hemingway, who did the same thing, but not as well. Chandler was a poet working through the medium of hard-boiled detective fiction. He invented a style that has been imitated and parodied ever since, but no one can work it anywhere near as well as he did. The Long Goodbye is his longest and, arguably, most cynical work, filled with social commentary. By the way, for you cheaters: The movie version, although interesting in its way, is not really a faithful adaptation of Chandler’s plot or his worldview.

The All-Time Favorite — Bleak House by Charles Dickens

What can I say? For me, Dickens is the greatest writer of all time, and this is his greatest book. Although David Copperfield and Great Expectations are close. But you’ve got to be willing to read these works as if you're living in the 19^th century. Go slowly. Savor the words; maybe even read aloud. See the scenes Dickens paints so lovingly, and hear his characters speak. Smell, touch, feel. If you’re interested only in finding out what happens, you’ll miss most of what makes his novels great. My recommendation to those whose idea of fiction is a good clippety-clip plot: Perhaps you should limit yourselves to watching Law and Order.

So that’s it. I didn’t even get to include Mark Twain or Jane Austen or Philip Roth or Dorothy Parker or Gore Vidal or Tom Wolfe or Richard Dawkins or ... dozens of other writers with whom I’ve spent many pleasurable hours.

I guess Yunshui’s point — and mine — is: Pick up a fucking book once in a while.

Miley Cyrus, Christians, and the Death of English

Enough with spreading the word on atheism, because I’ve got a new mission now: saving the English language. So if you’re here looking for some snark about religionists, you’ve come to the wrong ... well, OK, just skip to the last few paragraphs.

But let’s begin by boarding my train of thought, shall we?

Yesterday, my local rag saw fit to devote nearly a page and a half to an article about Miley Cyrus, a teenage superstar and the envy of every prepubescent girl in America. Apparently, if the hype is to be believed, when those young women are not obsessing over boys or whether their tits will ever grow, they’re fixated on every detail of Miley’s life. Of course, you may know her better as Hannah Montana, the character she plays on her Disney-produced TV show. Or, if you’re like me, you may not know her at all.

Now, had I been the editor-in-chief of the paper, I might not have opted to devote so much room to that article and its huge accompanying pictures. I mean, y’know, what with all the, like, stuff that’s, you know what I mean?, like, happening all over the ... um ... world and places like that. But, hey, everyone knows that the newspaper audience in a smallish city filled with retirees is made up mostly of tweenage girls, so I guess it was a sound editorial choice to run that story.

Miley's answers to questions reflect the glib talk of someone who has no idea that words are supposed to have meanings. And reading what Miley said has me wondering whether we as a country have already started devolving in our ability to communicate verbally. Granted, Miley Cyrus is no orator; but she is the trend-setter for millions of kids who want to be like her. Here are some sample answers she gave.

When asked about her new “adult” CD, recorded under her own name rather than that of her character’s:

To be played on these radio stations is awesome, to be able to rock out to it in your car without planning it, without it being just a kids’ channel.... I’m making it a little more fun and edgy, and I think being able to step out of the “Hannah Montana” thing — not in a way where I’m forgetting her completely, but as my fans grow up, me growing up, too, and kind of having my own person.

When asked about “mistakes” she has made:

It’s kind of hard to let someone that was so young when they started kind of grow up. You just have to realize that people make mistakes and that makes you almost a little more relatable.

When asked about the songs that she, herself, wrote:

I hope I get respected a little bit more as a writer. I want them to respect me and know that I have a lot to say. I have a lot for the world to know and take away from what my life experiences have been.

When asked about allowing the character Hannah Montana to age along with her:

There’s some things that I want to reinvent with her look, and not make it all sparkles and butterflies, you know? Some stars, and some black rock ‘n’ roll stuff. I did want it to grow up a little bit.

When asked about touring as Hannah Montana:

I’m kind of past that stuff. But I definitely wanna keep doing my show. I love doing it and I wouldn’t wanna give it up quite yet.

OK, so why am I clogging up the intertubes ranting about a semi-literate young lady?

Here’s part of a Christian’s comment that I’ve lifted from chappy’s blog, with her kind permission. I’ve combined paragraphs, but otherwise the quote is verbatim:

If all existence is nothing more than the interaction of matter and energy, then there can be no knowledge, no science. Practical science is predicated on the philosophy of science, but that philosophy is itself not physical. Ideas, reason, logic… are all held to be a part of reality, but they deny any sort of physical description. In fact they require some semblance of personhood to exist, and personhood itself resists a reductionist, naturalist description. The concept that metaphysical concepts such as logic and persons are as fundamental to existence as empirical things is why I remain a theist.

Here’s another Christian’s writing, from the same comment thread. Again, I’ve sewn the paragraphs together, but left the language intact:

The narratives of the Bible have a deeper complexity of meaning then meets the eye. The human race is in intellectual obscurity as to the nature of the Holy Word’s expanded meanings within its literal sense. This is why the Lord has promised to return “with the clouds.” One may take this literally and believe that the Second Coming will take place on an overcast day, or elevate the natural meaning of these words to their psycho-spiritual equivalent, and understand that the Lord’s return is not a physical event, but His clearing up the obscure ideas we have about ultimate reality and the divine scheme. These new ideas are now being made available to the world.

Both Miley Cyrus’s interview and those comments by Christians are evidence of the debasement of our language. Words readily flow, but they have no relationship to one another. Vague ideas are presented by piling on what are essentially nonsense phrases in “Jabberwocky” style. Compare:

• ... kind of having my own person
• they require some semblance of personhood to exist ...

• I have a lot for the world to know and take away from what my life experiences have been.
• These new ideas are now being made available to the world.

• I love doing it and I wouldn’t wanna give it up quite yet.
• The concept that metaphysical concepts such as logic and persons are as fundamental to existence as empirical things is why I remain a theist.

• You just have to realize that people make mistakes and that makes you almost a little more relatable.
• The human race is in intellectual obscurity as to the nature of the Holy Word’s expanded meanings within its literal sense.
  

Please do your part to help keep English alive. Do NOT speak or write like Miley Cyrus or like Christians. Thanks.

Looney-ku

[Note: The Wall Street Journal of June 28-29 features an article with some free verse by Billy Collins, former U.S. poet laureate. The poems are about Looney Tunes characters. Since I’ve been writing drivel my entire life, and also since I identify closely with Daffy Duck, I feel as if I have the authority to challenge Collins at his own game. However, I thought I’d add some rules: all poems must be haiku. That is: they must have three lines of, respectively, 5-syllables, 7-syllables, and 5-syllables.

So, come on, Billy Collins: Let's slam.]

Bugs:
Just wanting carrots,
but the hunter is stalking
so you must crack wise.

Daffy:
Lisping and zany,
you may be irrational,
but so is the world.

Elmer Fudd:
Armed with a shotgun,
always dreaming of success;
creatures know better.

Yosemite Sam:
Big mouth on small guy,
guns drawn, ready for varmints,
you can't beat the hare.

The Roadrunner:
Racing through your life,
overcoming obstacles
produced by Acme.

Wile E. Coyote:
Life is too cruel
when all that careful planning
ends with a big boom.

Tweety:
You thought you saw what?
Don’t worry about the puss:
You can outsmart him.

Sylvester:
He looks so tasty
swinging blithely in his cage,
but eat something else.

Pepe Le Pew:
Sorry, mon ami,
you may think you’re a lover
but your technique stinks.

Porky:
Three words -- “That’s all, folks” --
it comes rolling off one’s tongue:
but never for you.

Thank You for Your Bushiness

In my town, there isn’t much culture, unless your idea of sophistication is barbecuing in your driveway. So it’s not unusual, on a Sunday, for me to make the ten-mile trip to Barnes & Noble, there to commune with civilization.

When I approached that store today, though, I was greeted by the following sign, which I’ve reproduced verbatim:

WE ARE CLOSED
DUE TO POWER ISSUES.
SORRY FOR THE
INCONVIENENCE.

The first sentence seems to imply that the clerks have rebelled against management. “You can’t come in because there’s a mutiny going on.” But, no. It’s 21^st-century shrink-speak for: The fucking electricity isn’t working.

Nobody in America today — except maybe for bloggers — wants to make a definite statement, commit himself or herself to a clearly defined position on what’s right and what’s wrong. Instead, parents have issues with their children, and children have issues with their parents. Workers have issues with bosses, and bosses have issues with workers. Teachers have issues with students, students have issues with teachers, and everybody has issues with the principal. Conservatives have issues with liberals, and liberals have issues with conservatives. Christians have issues with Muslims, Muslims have issues with Jews, Jews have issues with Christians, and who doesn’t have issues with atheists?

“Having issues” is a weasel phrase. It’s not the same as “taking issue,” which at least means “disagreeing.” No, “having issues” is about viewpoint, based on the idea that all opinions are equal. It was born on the psychologist’s couch, where having strong ideas is often considered a sign of mental aberration. It was reared in a relativistic society, in which we all must "respect" one another, whether we've earned that respect or not. And it flourishes in media-driven politics where candidates strive to be the most inoffensive product for sale.

"Having issues" leads to rubbish like “Teach the controversy.” That’s why creationists have issues with so-called evolutionists, and why real, but apologetic, scientists have issues with the army of ignorati who are largely responsible for teaching our kids nonsense.

But, often, there are no issues, f’cryinoutloud. There’s a right side and a wrong side; opinions are not necessarily co-equal. I, myself, do not “have issues” with fundamentalist thugs who want to shove religion down the throats of impressionable youngsters. Instead, I argue, vehemently, for what’s objectively right. If you’re an atheist blogger, chances are that you do, too.

OK, returning to the sign, let’s look at the second sentence. You may not have noticed that “inconvenience” is misspelled, so take another look. Now remember: That sign was written by a person surrounded by English dictionaries. There are at least a dozen different editions scattered over the Reference shelves in my local branch. Does an employee have issues with orthography? Or with Noah Webster, maybe? What does it say about the Barnes & Noble staff if the combined skill of all the clerks can’t manage to spell a fairly common word correctly? Do they read anything they sell, or are they too busy slurping caramel macchiatos to look at the store’s main product? Follow-up question: Are books still the main product of Barnes & Noble Booksellers? Or should the company be renamed to “Barnes & Noble Latte Pushers”?

But idiotic behavior was not limited to those powerless few in the store. I sat for about ten minutes watching customers walk up to the doors. Singly or in groups they stood at the entrance and carefully read the posted message. Then ... they pulled on the handles of the doors. Not one person shrugged and turned around to head back to his or her car. Nope, every potential customer decided to try to get in, as if the “We’re Closed” sign were some kind of hoax. Even when one person or group failed to gain entry, the next in line thought that maybe he or she would have the magic touch.

Call me an old curmudgeon, but I have issues with that kind of stupidity.

In One's Own Words

Anyone who reads this blog regularly is aware of my frequent commenters, all of whom I’d like to think are friends — not just of mine, but, for the most part, of one another’s. Yet, we argue about ideas all the time. We do it in our blog posts, in our comments, in our emails to one another. Some of us do it weekly on Another Goddamned Podcast (shameless plug), or even on the telephone. In fact, I can’t think of any two atheists I know, in the Atheosphere or in real life, who haven’t disagreed with each other about philosophy at least once.

Interestingly, though, we all employ the same simple skill when arguing for our particular views: We state our positions in our own words.

Now, this should not be a remarkable situation. Every state in the union has educational standards for its public school students requiring that kids as young as 3rd-graders be able to paraphrase and/or summarize written and heard material in their own words. Being able to restate concepts, facts, and details in your own words shows that you actually understand what you’re talking about. On the other hand, not being able to put someone else’s thought into your own words shows that you really don’t get it.

An interesting phenomenon that comes up again and again, over and over, on the Web and in the world, is the incapability of many Christians to say, plainly, clearly, and in their own words exactly what they believe about this or that. To be absolutely fair, I’ll assert right here that I’m not talking about all Christians. I’m not even comfortable saying that my observation applies to most Christians, although I think it does. But it certainly fits many Christians that I’ve come across. When pinned down, they just can’t articulate their beliefs.

Their inability is indicative of an intellectual emptiness in the religious world view. The thin ice upon which religious beliefs are built will crack when put under the weight of any extra words needed to clarify them. So theists, unable or unwilling to add to the load (of whatever you choose to call it) retreat into using those words that are already available to them, i.e., quotations from the bible and citations of religious “thinkers” throughout history.

Most believers have never been challenged to explain in their own words how their faith works and what it means. I’m not talking about meaning in the emotional sense, as in “what it means to me.” I’m talking about meaning in the pure dictionary sense: Explain this idea, define it, describe it in your own words.

By and large, they can’t do it. Take away their ability to parrot phrases from the bible and other “authorities,” and they’re left speechless. They retreat hastily from a conversation or debate whenever they’re put on the spot to dig into their store of language and find their own words to elucidate what they “know.”

It’s not unreasonable to infer that those who can’t explain what they claim to know, actually know nothing.

Wait Until She Tells Them About Buridan's Talking Ass!

Today, I want to talk about words and their meanings.

A fourth-grade teacher is reading the story of “Sleeping Beauty” to her class. She comes to the section in which the villainess decides to poison a spindle with a sleeping potion.

The teacher reads:

“Ha. Ha,” said the evil witch. “The princess will fall into a deep sleep with just the tiniest prick.”

The class, naturally, erupts in laughter. You and I would, too.

The teacher goes to great pains to explain to her students that, in old-fashioned English, “prick” means a small puncture by a needle. The students nod their heads, seemingly in understanding, so the teacher continues reading until she comes to:

And sure enough, the poisoned needle did its work. Sleeping Beauty didn’t even feel the small prick.

The next day, the teacher is called into the principal’s office because of a parent’s complaint that she used inappropriate language in class.

At that point, a practical teacher would think long and hard about her precious "prick," and emend the text. She’d change the word to “puncture.” End of story.

But a teacher who was stubborn would say: “Look, this is perfectly acceptable English. In order to be educated, the students have to understand that common words can have different meanings in different contexts. That story has always said ‘prick,’ and I’m going to continue to use it.”

Not a good strategy, right?

So, scientists: Find another fucking word for “theory.”

(H/T to Evo and SI)