Skip to main content

More Turtle Talk

On the cover of Newsweek
It is quite one thing to be alive in the year 13 A.D., and to believe that the end of the world will happen very soon, and quite another to be alive in the year 2013, and to believe that the world will end very soon.  In the year 13, in the Middle East, it was commonly understood--at least by some Semitic people--that the end times were near.  Good and Evil were at war.  God was in his heaven, and Satan was in his pit.  That was 2000 years ago.

Jesus believed that he was a prophet of the end times, and that God was finally going to triumph over Evil, and the Roman Empire, and ghosties and ghoulies and three-legged beasties and things that go bump in the night (to quote the fine, old Book of Common Prayer).  He thundered against the money changers in the Temple, and called for repentence and a change of heart.

It is a little absurd to continue to believe just exactly that for 2000 years, but there are people who say the same thing today:  "The end is near!  Repent!  God is about to appear on a cloud!  Evil will resist but lose in a last, bloody, battle with those of Good Heart and Better Weapons!  Finally!

People used to sell what they owned, put the cash in their pockets, and gather at sunrise on the mountain to watch the sun rise on the Last Days.  Today, they join the Tea Party and run for Congress.  "This way," Michele Bachmann calls out to them.  "This way!"
"You heard what she said!", Pat Robertson broadcasts.  "Put the cash in your pockets, and follow Michele!  Or me!"

In the year 13, or 33, that was just the way people understood their world:  God up there, Satan down there, us here, Caesar in Rome, and keep your eye on the clouds!"

Today, that is madness:  pure and simple madness.  It is madness to elect people who think the world is going to end very soon now, and then expect them to think sanely about anything that has a future.  Do you really think that Michele Bachmann gives a diddly-damn about global climate change?  Why should she?  God is in his heaven, and women are in their place.

Lest you suspect that I exaggerate, Michele Bachmann is saying, publicly, right now, that we are living in the End Times, and that all this insanity in politics, and all these wars and rumors of wars, and maybe all these bedbugs in the hotel room, are just signs of the End Times we live in.

Oh, dear God!  All these brains and no one to use them!  Turtle Talk!  Turtles all the way down.  

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Friends-- My step-father of 35 years died this morning. His name was Conrad Royksund. He was 86 years old. He was born into poverty on a farm near Puyallup, WA. He was the first member of his family to attend college and earned a PhD from the University of Chicago. He paid his way through all of that by fishing in Alaska. He spent his professional career as a college professor. I met him when I was just 3 years old and don't actually have any memories of my life befor e he was in it. He was intimidatingly smart, funny as hell, and worked his ass off. He taught me to meet people with kindness and decency until I was certain they could not be trusted. He taught me to meet ideas with carving knives until I was certain they could. I will remember him as one of the bravest, most curious, and funniest people I have ever met. He left this world with a satisfied mind. We are so grateful. Dan Hubbard

Caliche Busters and Government Work

When I was young and both stronger and smarter than I am now, I put my might and brain to work doing nothing useful, unless it might be thought that hand/foot/eye coordination might come in handy.  Those were skills to be learned and practiced.   I found an iron bar our grandfather had shaped in his blacksmith shop.  He took old car, truck, or wagon axles, and made tools from them for digging post holes.  He sharpened one end to a tip, and the other to a blade.  Washington State, like many places, had a hard layer of soil, probably created by water and limestone, or some such materials, that made digging holes a miserable chore.  The bar chipped through the natural concrete so that a shovel could take it up.   I found Grandpa's iron bar, and since I was young and dumb and strong--or so I thought--decided to punch a hole down to hardpan and ultimate truth.  I knew how to do that.  Raise the bar vertically with both hands, and then slam in straight down.  On the second try, aimi

The Sea is Rising

Let us just step back:  two hundred and fifty years ago, or so, the ships of England and Spain had drifted onto a whole new continent, as they saw it, from far north to a savagely cold south; pole to pole, as if there were such things. Millions of people already lived here, some of them still hunters and gatherers; some of them very wealthy, indeed!  Gold and silver stolen from the southern Americas funded Spanish and English dreams. There was land, lots of land, under starry skies above, rich land, and oil and coal and iron ore.  The whole western world learned how to build industries not on simple muscle power, but on steam and oil.  We farmed, too, of course.  All we needed was cheap labor--slave labor from Africa, mostly, so the ships came with slave labor.  Chinese labor built railroad beds where there had been rock cliffs. Europeans, long used to killing each other for good, religious reasons, brought their religious savagery with them.  Even when all they wanted to do w