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Smooth move, dude!
May. 21st, 2012 12:00 amJust because you're a Lambo OWNER doesn't mean you're a Lambo DRIVER.
-- YouTube commenter
May. 21st, 2012
Just because you're a Lambo OWNER doesn't mean you're a Lambo DRIVER.
-- YouTube commenter
Smooth move, dude!
May. 21st, 2012 12:00 amJust because you're a Lambo OWNER doesn't mean you're a Lambo DRIVER.
-- YouTube commenter
Boardrooms vs. Bedrooms
May. 21st, 2012 09:00 amOur crisis has nothing to do with private morality. It's a crisis of public morality - of abuses of public trust that undermine the integrity of our economy and democracy and have led millions of Americans to conclude that the game is rigged. [...]
What's truly immoral is not what adults choose to do with other consenting adults. It's what those with great power have chosen to do to the rest of us.
-- Robert Reich at The San Francisco Chronicle
Mr. Reich knows how to write the songs I would like to sing, and now he hits on the Republicans for spending the bulk of their legislative energies on regulating our sex lives rather than focusing on the malfeasances of big business.
( excerpt )
What's truly immoral is not what adults choose to do with other consenting adults. It's what those with great power have chosen to do to the rest of us.
-- Robert Reich at The San Francisco Chronicle
Mr. Reich knows how to write the songs I would like to sing, and now he hits on the Republicans for spending the bulk of their legislative energies on regulating our sex lives rather than focusing on the malfeasances of big business.
( excerpt )
Boardrooms vs. Bedrooms
May. 21st, 2012 09:00 amOur crisis has nothing to do with private morality. It's a crisis of public morality - of abuses of public trust that undermine the integrity of our economy and democracy and have led millions of Americans to conclude that the game is rigged. [...]
What's truly immoral is not what adults choose to do with other consenting adults. It's what those with great power have chosen to do to the rest of us.
-- Robert Reich at The San Francisco Chronicle
Mr. Reich knows how to write the songs I would like to sing, and now he hits on the Republicans for spending the bulk of their legislative energies on regulating our sex lives rather than focusing on the malfeasances of big business.
( excerpt )
What's truly immoral is not what adults choose to do with other consenting adults. It's what those with great power have chosen to do to the rest of us.
-- Robert Reich at The San Francisco Chronicle
Mr. Reich knows how to write the songs I would like to sing, and now he hits on the Republicans for spending the bulk of their legislative energies on regulating our sex lives rather than focusing on the malfeasances of big business.
( excerpt )
Climate Change and the Moral Imagination
May. 21st, 2012 12:00 pmAdam Smith once noted that we are less troubled by the prospect of a hundred million people dying as a result of an earthquake in some distant location than of losing our little finger, but would nevertheless be horrified by the idea we might allow them to die in order to save it. Climate change effectively transforms the former scenario into the latter, and so places unprecedented demands on our moral imagination. Almost every little thing we do contributes to our carbon footprint, which increases greenhouse gases, which could in turn ultimately threaten hundreds of millions of lives in some remote time and place – the uncertainty only adding to the sublime awfulness of our responsibilities... climate change does not tempt us to be less moral than we might otherwise be; it invites us to be more moral than we could ever have imagined.
-- Malcolm Bull
I am afraid that that invitation will have to be declined.
-- Malcolm Bull
I am afraid that that invitation will have to be declined.
Climate Change and the Moral Imagination
May. 21st, 2012 12:00 pmAdam Smith once noted that we are less troubled by the prospect of a hundred million people dying as a result of an earthquake in some distant location than of losing our little finger, but would nevertheless be horrified by the idea we might allow them to die in order to save it. Climate change effectively transforms the former scenario into the latter, and so places unprecedented demands on our moral imagination. Almost every little thing we do contributes to our carbon footprint, which increases greenhouse gases, which could in turn ultimately threaten hundreds of millions of lives in some remote time and place – the uncertainty only adding to the sublime awfulness of our responsibilities... climate change does not tempt us to be less moral than we might otherwise be; it invites us to be more moral than we could ever have imagined.
-- Malcolm Bull
I am afraid that that invitation will have to be declined.
-- Malcolm Bull
I am afraid that that invitation will have to be declined.
Angela and Barack
May. 21st, 2012 03:00 pmSully titles the post "Getting Merkel To Fourth Base", and it does look like Obama and Angela Merkel are having a successful date. I think she likes him.
Angela and Barack
May. 21st, 2012 03:00 pmSully titles the post "Getting Merkel To Fourth Base", and it does look like Obama and Angela Merkel are having a successful date. I think she likes him.
"Housekeeping"
May. 21st, 2012 06:01 pmSully gives us a nice excerpt from the novel "Housekeeping". I remember seeing the movie back in my college days. Kind of simple but touching. And I love this excerpt which plays on Christian literature. I should give the novel a shot. I don't feel moved to put it on the top of my list, but if time were no object, I should get to it.
_ _ _
Memory is the sense of loss, and loss pulls us after it. God Himself was pulled after us into the vortex we made when we fell, or so the story goes. And while He was on earth He mended families. He gave Lazarus back to his mother, and to the centurion he gave his daughter again. He even restored the severed ear of the soldier who came to arrest him -- a fact that allows us to hope the resurrection will reflect a considerable attention to detail.
Yet this was no more than tinkering. Being man He felt the pull of death, and being God He must have wondered more than we do what it would be like. He is known to have walked upon water, but He was not born to drown. And when He did die it was sad -- such a young man, so full of promise, and His mother wept and His friends could not believe the loss, and the story spread everywhere and the mourning would not be comforted, until He was so sharply lacked and so powerfully remembered that his friends felt Him beside them as they walked along the road, and saw someone cooking fish on the shore and knew it to be Him, and sat down to supper with Him, all wounded as He was.
There is so little to remember of anyone -- an anecdote, a conversation at table. But every memory is turned over and over again, every word, however chance, written in the heart in the hope that memory will fulfill itself, and become flesh, and that the wanderers will find a way home, and the perished, whose lack we always feel, will step through the door finally and stroke our hair with dreaming, habitual fondness, not having meant to keep us waiting long.
-- Marilynne Robinson, the novel "Housekeeping"
_ _ _
Memory is the sense of loss, and loss pulls us after it. God Himself was pulled after us into the vortex we made when we fell, or so the story goes. And while He was on earth He mended families. He gave Lazarus back to his mother, and to the centurion he gave his daughter again. He even restored the severed ear of the soldier who came to arrest him -- a fact that allows us to hope the resurrection will reflect a considerable attention to detail.
Yet this was no more than tinkering. Being man He felt the pull of death, and being God He must have wondered more than we do what it would be like. He is known to have walked upon water, but He was not born to drown. And when He did die it was sad -- such a young man, so full of promise, and His mother wept and His friends could not believe the loss, and the story spread everywhere and the mourning would not be comforted, until He was so sharply lacked and so powerfully remembered that his friends felt Him beside them as they walked along the road, and saw someone cooking fish on the shore and knew it to be Him, and sat down to supper with Him, all wounded as He was.
There is so little to remember of anyone -- an anecdote, a conversation at table. But every memory is turned over and over again, every word, however chance, written in the heart in the hope that memory will fulfill itself, and become flesh, and that the wanderers will find a way home, and the perished, whose lack we always feel, will step through the door finally and stroke our hair with dreaming, habitual fondness, not having meant to keep us waiting long.
-- Marilynne Robinson, the novel "Housekeeping"
"Housekeeping"
May. 21st, 2012 06:01 pmSully gives us a nice excerpt from the novel "Housekeeping". I remember seeing the movie back in my college days. Kind of simple but touching. And I love this excerpt which plays on Christian literature. I should give the novel a shot. I don't feel moved to put it on the top of my list, but if time were no object, I should get to it.
_ _ _
Memory is the sense of loss, and loss pulls us after it. God Himself was pulled after us into the vortex we made when we fell, or so the story goes. And while He was on earth He mended families. He gave Lazarus back to his mother, and to the centurion he gave his daughter again. He even restored the severed ear of the soldier who came to arrest him -- a fact that allows us to hope the resurrection will reflect a considerable attention to detail.
Yet this was no more than tinkering. Being man He felt the pull of death, and being God He must have wondered more than we do what it would be like. He is known to have walked upon water, but He was not born to drown. And when He did die it was sad -- such a young man, so full of promise, and His mother wept and His friends could not believe the loss, and the story spread everywhere and the mourning would not be comforted, until He was so sharply lacked and so powerfully remembered that his friends felt Him beside them as they walked along the road, and saw someone cooking fish on the shore and knew it to be Him, and sat down to supper with Him, all wounded as He was.
There is so little to remember of anyone -- an anecdote, a conversation at table. But every memory is turned over and over again, every word, however chance, written in the heart in the hope that memory will fulfill itself, and become flesh, and that the wanderers will find a way home, and the perished, whose lack we always feel, will step through the door finally and stroke our hair with dreaming, habitual fondness, not having meant to keep us waiting long.
-- Marilynne Robinson, the novel "Housekeeping"
_ _ _
Memory is the sense of loss, and loss pulls us after it. God Himself was pulled after us into the vortex we made when we fell, or so the story goes. And while He was on earth He mended families. He gave Lazarus back to his mother, and to the centurion he gave his daughter again. He even restored the severed ear of the soldier who came to arrest him -- a fact that allows us to hope the resurrection will reflect a considerable attention to detail.
Yet this was no more than tinkering. Being man He felt the pull of death, and being God He must have wondered more than we do what it would be like. He is known to have walked upon water, but He was not born to drown. And when He did die it was sad -- such a young man, so full of promise, and His mother wept and His friends could not believe the loss, and the story spread everywhere and the mourning would not be comforted, until He was so sharply lacked and so powerfully remembered that his friends felt Him beside them as they walked along the road, and saw someone cooking fish on the shore and knew it to be Him, and sat down to supper with Him, all wounded as He was.
There is so little to remember of anyone -- an anecdote, a conversation at table. But every memory is turned over and over again, every word, however chance, written in the heart in the hope that memory will fulfill itself, and become flesh, and that the wanderers will find a way home, and the perished, whose lack we always feel, will step through the door finally and stroke our hair with dreaming, habitual fondness, not having meant to keep us waiting long.
-- Marilynne Robinson, the novel "Housekeeping"