I Am An Intelligent Human Being

A couple of nights ago I rented a DVD. (Mind Hunters, for those who keep score, and I don't recommend it unless you want to see Val Kilmer sporting a hairdo that's dangerously close to a mullet.)  I finished cooking my gourmet dinner (frozen pizza), poured a glass of frosty beverage (fruit juice), and sat down in my easy chair to watch the movie on my laptop.  The disc refused to play.  It also refused to eject.  I've had similar problems before, so I popped out the DVD drive (it's in a removable bay) and reinserted it.  Still no luck.  Reboot.  Still nothing.  Tried prying the drive slot open a little wider in case the disk was getting stuck.  Nada.  Just a little whirring noise and then nothing.

So I popped the drive out again and dissassembled the plastic housing, trying to get a better view inside.  Meanwhile I called my old friend Bruce, who I'd been playing phone tag with for the last few days, just to catch up on life.  Still not having any luck on the drive, I began to look for a small enough screwdriver to actually open up the drive itself.  I described what I was doing to Bruce, who said, "Are you sure there's a disc in there?"  To which I replied, "Of course . . ."

That's right, I had never put the disc into my computer.

Curiosity Killed the Theologian

Two questions:

1) Why did God put the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil in the Garden of Eden?

2) What does it mean that we are made in the image of God?

Any ideas, original or borrowed?  I'm just curious to hear what other people think.

Fun with Internet Demographics

It's nice to know that I can still climb outside the web demographers' box.  These four advertising links appeared at the top of my xanga page, as a result of my last entry:

1) Download Carole Pope

2) A Roman Catholic Site

3) Revelation 17 Reveals

4) Mormon Ringtone

Sweet!  I've been looking for a good Mormon ringtone, so that I will know instantly whenever I am getting an incoming call from the planet Granphala.

Currently seeking more deeply cherished beliefs to offend . . .

Seriously Funny

Today we will explore the topic of why things that should be serious are so often intrinsically funny.  **Advisory warning:  This post may be offensive to Catholics, modern art lovers, and Wile E. Coyote.  Read at your own risk.**

The pope, for example, is the pinnacle of all things serious, important, and holy.  Which is why he wears the Pope Hat.  Don't laugh.  It's a timeless statement about tall pointiness, which has more significant theological implications than Martin Luther can shake a stick at.  Still, the Pope Hat looks like the product of a practical joke, something a mad Italian hatter invented after a few too many glasses of Chianti.  Can you imagine the President of the United States giving his State of the Union speech wearing the Pope Hat?  No, because even he would be laughed out of office.  If your boss walked into your workplace wearing that hat, he would be arrested, because that’s what happens when you steal the Pope Hat.  But even before the crack team of Uzi-wielding Swiss guards could drop him to the floor, everyone in the room would be weeping with laughter, because no matter how you slice it, that’s one funny-looking hat.

Of course, one funny-looking hat is not enough.  That's why the pope has several other options from which to select, depending on the mood and the occasion.

Santa Claus Pope (it's called a "camauro")

Rodeo Pope (this one is a "saturno")

And when his own collection runs short, he can borrow from other fashionable sources, such as the nearest Russian army officer.

The pope also has many astonishing powers, including excommunication, which is slightly less visceral than having rocket launchers mounted on your car, but eminently more portable.  He also officially has the amazing talent of never being wrong, which would be much more useful if he could get married.

Something else that shouldn’t be funny, but is, is the sight of sudden unexpected pain inflicted on a stranger.  How many movies are built entirely on this premise, succeeding with no redeeming plot, dialogue, or even cinematography?  But who doesn’t laugh when Tommy Boy gets nailed by a steel I-beam?  And doesn’t everyone love the hapless expression of Wile E. Coyote as he realizes he’s about to be scorched to an existential husk by his own Acme Dynamite Slingshot? 

What’s funny about a small animal being blown up?  The answer, clearly, is everything.

Another thing that falls into this category is abstract art.  As in, “they paid how much for that jar of urine?”  I like abstract art, but sometimes people get carried away.  We are speaking here about such works as “The Lights Going On And Off”, as featured in a Dave Barry column, which could be mistaken by those with a tragically plebian shortage of artistic perception as simply an empty room where the lights go on and off.  We are also speaking about works of art where the artist achieved his breakthrough technique by dipping stray cats into buckets of paint and using a specially designed trebuchet to fling the cats across the room at a canvas, or on a bad day, his ex-girlfriend.  I don’t know for certain that this has actually been done, but I would bet that not only has it happened, but that the NEA funded the construction of the trebuchet.  The only thing funnier than abstract art is the people who don’t really get it, but pretend to in order to appear enlightened.  They can be heard to offer up such well-bred comments as, “Yes, that is certainly an excellent expression of the condition of the primal human animal, vituperating against the artificially imposed restraints of civilized society.  I love the way the crucifix form has been subtly interwoven with the strands of fur.”  Of course it goes without saying that the cat is a perfect metaphor for civilized society, what with the Egyptians and all.

I think I will stop writing now and get to work on my next painting, “Pope on a Hot Tin Roof”, which I will create by dipping the Pope in paint and dropping him on a canvas stretched over a trampoline.  It will be a very serious piece.

How did that get there?

Have you ever bought a CD, found it uninspiring, and allowed it to languish in the dustbin of your collection for years, only to come back to it and realize how amazing the music actually is?

The first time I remember this happening to me was a recording of Rachmaninov's Piano Concerto #2.  I bought the disc in college and listened to the concerto once or twice.  I wasn't impressed, it didn't seem compelling.  I passed it over for the flashier Tchaikovsky concerto on the same disc.  A few years later, I thought, "I should try this again."  I was blown away!  How could I have missed so much spine-tingling passion, so much beauty, so much joy and longing and sorrow?  Why didn't I hear it the first time?

Another piano piece that got the same treatment was Franck's Choral Prelude.  I thought it was dry and hastened on to other tracks.  Years later, I heard it again and was stunned by the the richness, the drama, the intricate way sounds and ideas built on each other, slowly at first, then building intensity and finally rushing headlong to explode in a tremendous burst of musical light!  How did I miss that before?

Last week I found another one.  A CD of piano (notice a theme here?) compositions by Albeniz.  They aren't grand on the same scale as the Rachmaninov, but they are amazingly creative, chock full of dancing and darkness and laughter and quiet reflection.  They are simultaneously earthy and inspired.

Why do I hear these things later, and not sooner?  Is it that I wasn't educated enough musically the first time?  Is it that I didn't know enough about music to hear what the music was saying?  Is it that I didn't know enough about life to hear what the music was saying?  Is it like empathy?  It's all very mysterious.  What makes these changes?  I don't know.

I also don't know what it means that my mail login page has stopped displaying ads for dating services and started displaying ads for dieting and exercise programs.