an athiest on christmas

Ricky Gervais on being asked how he celebrates Christmas:

Eating and drinking too much with friends and family. Celebrating life and remembering those that did, but can no longer.

They are not looking down on me but they live in my mind and heart more than they ever did probably. Some, I was lucky enough to bump into on this planet of six billion people. Others shared much of my genetic material. One selflessly did her best for me all my life. That’s what mums do though. They do it for no other reason than love. Not for reward. Not for recognition. They create you. From nothing. Miracle? They do those every day. No big deal. They are not worshiped. They would give their life without the promise of heaven. They teach you everything they know yet they are not declared prophets. And you only have one.

I am crying as I write this.

It usually gets me this time of year. That’s what’s special about Christmas. It’s when you visit or reminisce about the ones you love. And reflect on how lucky you are. How they helped shape you. I remember the first time my mum took me to see a movie. I’d never been to a cinema before. I can still remember the place to this day. Everything seemed carpeted. The floors, the walls, everything. I had sweets and Pepsi and the biggest screen in the world, I thought. I was blown away. I lived a life in a couple of hours. When I thought Baloo was dead I was sobbing uncontrollably but trying to hide it. My mum was consoling me but didn’t seem as distressed as me. Then when it turned out that Baloo was still alive I was f—ing euphoric.

But it made me think. On the way home I asked my mum how old I’d be when she died. “Old,” she said. “Will I care?” I asked worried about my far off future feelings. She wasn’t sure what to say. She knew I wanted the answer “no” in some ways but as usual she chose honesty. “Yes,” she said. “But it won’t happen for a very long time.” That was good enough for me.

When I returned to school a few weeks later we had to do a little presentation about our holidays. I proceeded to act out the entire movie using the other kids in the class. I told them where to stand and what to say, filling in the action with narration. Eventually the teacher had to stop me because I was taking up the whole day. Now I’m a real director I never make that same mistake. I’m home by 4 o’clock on any movie I do.

I haven’t seen the film for 40 years so I’m not sure how good it is but it’s still one of my fondest memories because it was a gift from my mum. My mum died when I was 40.

She was right by the way. I did care. But luckily 35 five years before, I’d learnt the bear necessities to get me through.

Just like Baloo, she’s still with me.

Dad’s are pretty cool too. Mine was a man of few words. He let me make my own way. He taught me one important lesson though. That it’s OK for a man to cry. He only cried once in his life. Just one time. When his mum died. Luckily for him all his children out-lived him. Otherwise there would surely have been a second.

I hope you are with your loved ones at this wonderful time of year. That’s what will make it wonderful.

Peace to all mankind. Christian, Jew, Muslim and Atheist.

the full article here. hope to have a real post up on return to nashville.

about goddamn time

"Gay and lesbian service members -- brave Americans who enable our freedoms -- will no longer have to hide who they are. The fight for civil rights, a struggle that continues, will no longer include this one."

- president barack obama

‎

sunday funnies

perry bible fellowship

the roach

i wrote a little short story. here it is.

John Carver could hear his landlord, Tex Gregory, scratching at the door. The landlord was a cockroach and that is the truth in the most literal sense. Six legs, little translucent wings, and antenna that stuck through tiny holes on his even tinier pork pie hat. Pretty soon the scratching was joined by the Tex’s quiet but menacing bark.

"Carver! you in there Carver!? You’re goddamn rent is a month behind! I’m throwing your deadbeat ass out on the street if you ain’t got my money!"

Carver, who was hiding under a dirty gray sheet, was doing his best to try and ignore the situation. The cockroach started in again.

"Carver, I saw your little shit box car parked in the drive! Get out here!"

John thought about what it would be like to crush that bully under his shoe but Tex had told him once that the world only existed in his mind and when it was his time to die the rest of the world would follow him in to the dark. This of course was a foolish notion and carver would have usually ignored such a boast but something in his landlord's insect eyes made him believe it enough to not chance it. After all the man was a talking cockroach.

"This your last chance deadbeat! Open up! Damn it! Open up!"

"Yeah, yeah! OK..." Carver shouted back.

John himself was surprised at the words coming out of his own mouth. He got up and pulled on a ratty old robe he had left hanging from the closet door. He took a quick look into the dresser mirror to try appraise the situation that was his face. John hadn’t shaved for three days and his eyes were red from drinking and staying up much to late. There was also an enormous bruise on the right side of his face. Cynthia’s new boyfriend had given him that little gift the night before when he had show up at her new place drunk and expectant. the new man introduced himself as Tom, had given him a light pummeling and then mentioned something about "kicking his lungs out through his ass" if ever showed up there again. Carver was inclined to believe him. He had seemed like a nice fellow considering the situation though and didn't hold him much ill will. Tex wrapped on the door again.

"Are you coming out her or not asshole?!"

Carver stumbled to the door and opened it. For a moment he thought there was no one there and then he remembered to look down.

"About goddamn time." said the diminutive landlord. "You got my money or not?"

"Not exactly..." Carver mumbled.

"Why the the fuck not?" growled Tex.

"Cynthia left me."

"She left you a month ago and what’s that got to do with me?"

"She was helping out with the rent she..."

"What kind of man lets a woman pay his rent, Carver?" interrupted the cockroach.

John wanted to look down at his feet in shame but Tex was down there so he looked up at the door frame instead. He wasn’t bothered by a woman paying his rent but he hated being reminded that he had basically been living out of Cynthia's pocket for the last year.

Life it seems had creeped up on him and had began to tear away at him. His job delivering newspapers had been first to go. At the time he had shrugged it off. He didn’t enjoy the hours and most of his co-workers were teenagers. Next to go had been the tip of his finger which he had sliced off some how on the edge of an opened tin can of tomato soup. He felt he could taste iron in his mouth for days after deciding to eat the soup anyway. Last had been Cynthia who one day unceremoniously had packed her things and driven away in his old banged up Buick. Carver had guessed the theft of the car had been some sort of ransom for the unpaid debt he still owed her. Last night he had gone back after his beating and stolen the car back. This was his first victory in a long while but now there was this literal bug of a man standing before him, trying to take his home too.

"I’ll get you the money Tex..." Carver said.

"Oh, bull shit!" exploded the cockroach. "You’ve used up all your excuses. You have till midnight to get your shit out before i call the sheriff."

"You can't do this!" carver pleaded. "I can have it by tonight."

John tried to think of something, anything to make the situation more bearable. He tried to think of what Cynthia would do but could only picture the stern face of her new beau. He also tried to think of a way to make good on his promise to get the money. He didn't think he would make much of a stick up man and an honest days work wouldn't make him the kinda of money he needed.

"I can do anything I want! I don't want your money! I want you out! I may be a roach but you sir are a worm!" roared Tex.

This was too much for Carver. He began to think about what rude little insect had once told him about the world ending with him. He looked at the tiny bug wearing the pork pie hat, lifted up his leg and smashed Tex Gregory with his barefoot. The world went out like a light.

score one for science

from gizmodo.

For the first time, a man has been declared officially cured of HIV. The remedy may nearly have killed him, but it opens a door—just a crack—to hope that we may someday kill off the scourge for good.

Strangely enough, the diagnosis that most concerned Timothy Ray Brown in 2007 was acute myeloid leukemia. HIV has been increasingly thought of as a manageable disease, though certainly a terribly burdensome one. What brought the 42-year old Brown under the care of Germany's Charite Universitatsmedizin Berlin hospital was the more immediate threat his cancer posed.

The treatment Brown underwent was aggressive: chemotherapy that destroyed the majority of his immune cells. Total body irradiation. Finally, a risky stem-cell transplant that nearly a third of patients don't survive—but that appears to have completely cured Brown of HIV.

Doctors were savvy when they chose a stem cell donor for Brown. The man whose bone marrow they used has a particular genetic mutation, present in an incredibly small percentage of people, that makes him almost invulnerable to HIV. With Brown's own defenses decimated by treatments, the healthy, HIV-resistant donor cells repopulated his immune system. The initial indications that the virus had abated were promising. But only just now, having taken no antiretroviral drugs since the transplant, and following extensive testing shows no signs whatsoever of HIV, have his doctors given the official word:

He's cured.

What does this mean for the future of treatment? It's not as though every HIV patient can or would want to go through the tremendous suffering that was prelude to Brown's recovery, or be able to afford the procedure if they could or did. But for the first time, we know that HIV can be cured, not just managed. It opens new avenues of research—gene therapy, stem cell treatments—that may otherwise have been thought dead ends

sunday funnies

creased comics

please listen to the sirens

i've never understood why tubeway army's self titled doesn't get the play it so richly deserves. maybe it's been overshadowed by their lead singer's (gary numan) success but why the hell listen to cars when you can have my love is a liquid or my shadow in vain?

the album kicks off with glam/punk infused listen to siren painting the dystopian backdrop for the album. numan's synth bobs along forebodingly as he sings "flow my tears the new police song / the slogan of peace is you must live / they've got me and i'm one of them." living in economically depressed england probably wasn't a far stretch from the 1984esque world numan was writing about. the band continues build up until numan sings "but i dont mind/ i don't mind" and then they let bottom drop out of the whole world only to spring back to life with a machine gun burst from the drums and primal grunt from numan. this is really the point when you should know you're listening to a really good album.



a few songs like the life machine and friends don't really stand up on their own so much but really make the album flow. the previously mentioned my love is a liquid and every die i die are proto-new wave classics but it's really the closing track that is the record's strongest.

starting with gentle acoustic strumming jo the waiter tells the story of a man's love affair with a waiter he employees at his bar(i always felt the man may be a robot but wikipedia says i'm wrong)". one of numan's only songs to feature acoustic guitar the track eventual gives way to a manic and wiry guitar. the song builds to a crescendo before stopping on a dime without warning. it gives the album a sudden jarring end that plays well with the dystopian theme of the album. it always leaves me feeling kinda like numan's letting his own little world self destruct and self destructing in this case is what rock and roll is all about.

check comments for bonus!

the pope goes home. we learn nothing.

here is a really good article from laura penny at the new statemen. new record review later today or tomorrow.

jose goddamn gonzalez

i've been listening to jose gonzalez's in our nature. like listening a lot. the whole album through at least three times a week for the last two months.


gonzalez is swedish by way of argentina and a former bio-chemist (how cool is that?). apparently the record was inspired by the richard dawkin's the god delusion and peter singer's practical ethics. which is cool (if you ask me the world needs more ex-scientist writing songs about atheist manifestos) but that's not really why i dig it so much. if you asked me i really probably couldn't tell you why i like it so much. it's not really the kind of album that usually hits me hard like this.

the album is really sparse. just this guy and his guitar. every once and a while you get some hand claps or some female back up but for the most part its just mr. gonzalez strumming along forever. my favorite albums don't tend to be this straight forward (taking tiger mountain, street hassle, sandinista!) but here it works. there is something really beautiful about this kind of simplicity.

the first track "how low" starts with this low chugging guitar riff. gonzales's voice fits very well with stark instrumentation. he's very plain spoken and intimate without coming off as schmaltzy. he sounds very much like a man here do a job and one that both knows and does it well. the second song "down the line" is also a highlight. the track show cases his classical spanish guitar style. one of the few tracks to have any real sense of urgency. when he sings "don't let the darkness eat you up!" he actually sounds worried that it might.

it would be stupid not to mention the wonderful cover of masive attacks's "tear drop". i know people may give me shit for this but he may have actually improve on the original. it sounds much more organic and full of life with out the dated trappings of early 90's trip hop. he makes the song his own and i'm sure it will become mix tape fodder for any one who gives it a listen.

the last track "cycling trivialities" sums up what i believe is a wonderful world view. the narrator is pleading with a friend or lover to ignore the small problems in life and enjoy what you have or as my mom used to say "don't sweat the small shit." i call it happy nihilism. both this song and album plead with us to slow down enjoy life. in our nature reminds us the real tragedy of life is how much of we miss while busy with little things that really don't matter.

check comments for bonus!