2009-12-14 12:36 PM
physics, faith, and guys singing on Thursday nights
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A pleasure: driving up Gallatin Road at 6:30 a.m., singing Counting Crows' "Einstein on the Beach."
Sometimes I can't help wanting to smack the more clueless species of so-called Christian with a fish. There are already atheists holding public office, y'all - not to mention gay people teaching Sunday school, too! For the love of whatever you believe in, move into the blessed 21st century already and move on.
(I do have to hand it to Tennessee's constitution - it bars "Ministers of God" and duelists as well as atheists. Not that that's right, but there's some comedy to be squeezed out of that...)
The writeup in this morning's paper included this bit:
Bothwell [the atheist in question] was raised a Presbyterian but began questioning Christian beliefs at a young age and considered himself an atheist by the time he was 20. He's an active member of the Unitarian Universalist Church of Asheville, and he still celebrates Christmas, often hanging ornaments on his fishhook cactus.
From Wayne Biddle's A Field Guide to the Invisible (Holt, 1998):
The Welsh say that there are three things that only God knows: the beginning of things, the cause of things, and the end of things. They seem like natural-born physicists.
[...and...]
Soot forms as fuel molecules agglomerate into carbonaceous particles large enough to be pulled down by gravity instead of riding on the wind. Besides making a greasy film on city windowills, they are carcinogenic. Yes, Virginia, Santa Claus would never survive exposure to so much chimney soot.
From Aaron Freeman's Planning Ahead Can Make A Difference At the End (NPR, 2005):
You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got.
(Side note: I am actually of two minds about this piece. On the one hand, I love what Freeman does here. On the other hand, if something happened to the BYM and someone tried to comfort me with this, I would be sorely tempted to punch them into next week.)
A group of guys singing By the Waters of Babylon (video). And California Dreamin'.
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