“I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m a Christian,” the Texas governor says in the spot. “But you don’t have to be in the pew every Sunday to know that there’s something wrong in this country when gays can serve openly in the military, but our kids can’t openly celebrate Christmas or pray in school. As president, I’ll end Obama’s war on religion, and I’ll fight against liberal attacks on our religious heritage.”
But everybody can openly celebrate Christmas! They can pray in school! They just can't require that the school force everybody to do so. Obama's "war on religion"—to the extent that the president has even been part of these culture wars, which isn't much—only means that Christians don't have a privileged position in forcing the rest of society to observe their rituals.
Not that I expect to persuade anybody. There's a variety of Christian who believes that if they're not allowed to dominate society, they're being persecuted. These folks vote Republican.
On this 70th anniversary of the Pearl Harbor attack, there seems to be a great deal of hand-wringing that the event is soon to no longer be part of our collective living memory. Today's New York Times story is pretty typical of the angst:
The fact that this moment was inevitable has made this no less a difficult year for the survivors, some of whom are concerned that the event that defined their lives will soon be just another chapter in a history book, with no one left to go to schools and Rotary Club luncheons to offer a firsthand testimony of that day. As it is, speaking engagements by survivors like Mr. Kerr — who said he would miss church services on Sunday to commemorate the attack — can be discouraging affairs.
“I was talking in a school two years ago, and I was being introduced by a male teacher, and he said, ‘Mr. Kerr will be talking about Pearl Harbor,’ ” said Mr. Kerr. “And one of these little girls said, ‘Pearl Harbor? Who is she?’
“Can you imagine?” he said.
Well, yeah, I can imagine. I don't have any idea how old this girl was, but it's entirely conceivable—even probable—that Pearl Harbor took place before her grandparents were born. This isn't just history to today's elemetary school students: It's ancient history. Put it this way: If you were in elementary school 30 years ago—as I was—how much did you know and understand about World War I? I was a kid when this "Cheers" episode came out, and I remember being astonished as a child that there were any veterans of that war left.
This isn't a call to let Pearl Harbor slip from our collective memories. "Those who forget the lessons of history are doomed etc." But it's probably not a bad thing to let that memory become a little less urgent. There are plenty of cultures around the globe which harbor grudges from wars and battles that took place centuries upon centuries ago—those memories have remained urgent, often with the result that those cultures have a hard time moving into the future: They're too busy clinging to the past. There are still people who hate the Japanese because of Pearl Harbor. What a wasted, useless emotion.
And there are some folks who use their observance of the anniversary as a kind of "more American than thou" proclamation, a cudgel against those who don't keep the flame burning quite as bright. I guess I don't have much patience for that.
The longer our country and culture survive, the more battles we'll have under our belt. They'll be and seem incredibly life-shattering at the time. But we can remember them without living with them as part of our present, and we probably should: It's probably healthiest that we eventually let the old battles go. I salute the survivors of Pearl Harbor, but it's not a sin to let the memory fade, just a bit, as they fade away.
Among fathers with a wife in the workforce, 32 percent were a regular source of care for their children under age 15, up from 26 percent in 2002, the U.S. Census Bureau reported today. Among these fathers with preschool-age children, one in five fathers was the primary caregiver, meaning their child spent more time in their care than any other type of arrangement.
I'm lucky, in that my career and skills make it possible for me to earn money while staying at home with my son. It's an economic no-brainer on one hand: Child care is frickin' expensive, and my staying home while writing subtracts that cost from our burdens while still letting me make enough money to pay the rent.
And I'm also lucky that I get to spend so much time around my son during his formative years. My dad was a hard worker: When I was young he was in college and worked full-time, and after he graduated he was on the road a lot; I got plenty of fathering, believe me, and everything he did was in the service of supporting his family. But I also know that I've had more of a chance to watch my son grow than he—or, really, all but a few men of his generation—ever did. There's a tradeoff: I'm not getting rich or skyrocketing to the top of my profession right now. Often, though, I wake up these days with my 3-year-old son climbing into bed with me and throwing his arms around my neck. It's a privilege to receive that and earn money, I realize. I might as well enjoy it.
Unprecedented cuts by the cash-strapped U.S. Postal Service will slow first-class delivery next spring and, for the first time in 40 years, eliminate the chance for stamped letters to arrive the next day.
The estimated $3 billion in reductions, to be announced in broader detail later Monday, are part of a wide-ranging effort by the Postal Service to quickly trim costs and avert bankruptcy. They could slow everything from check payments to Netflix's DVDs-by-mail, add costs to mail-order prescription drugs, and threaten the existence of newspapers and time-sensitive magazines delivered by postal carrier to far-flung suburban and rural communities.
According to the story, periodicals could take up to nine days to reach their destination through the mail. Which should pretty much destroy printed magazine subscriptions.
Maybe not all of them: If you subscribe to one of those Home and Garden magazines, it probably doesn't make much difference when you get them. But if you read something even a little time-sensitive—The New Yorker, The Atlantic, Time, etc.—you're running out of reasons to stick with print. Digital subscriptions will keep you up to date just fine.
National Review's Mario Loyola tries to get to the bottom of why Denver Broncos quarterback Tim Tebow annoys people so much, and concludes: "People aren’t upset at Tebow’s God talk. They’re upset that he might actually believe it."
Meh. Tim Tebow doesn't bother me one way or another, though I admit to finding his success this season rather fascinating. (And I'm not really a football guy.) Nonetheless, when I see his ostentatious displays of faith on the field, I'm reminded of some old gospel verses:
5 “And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. 6 But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you. 7 And when you pray, do not keep on babbling like pagans, for they think they will be heard because of their many words. 8 Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him.
Guy named Jesus supposedly said that. But I'm sure Tim Tebow knows better.
The department’s rule, one of many put in place a year ago, was intended to control commerce in the busiest parks. Under the city’s definition, vending covers not only those peddling photographs and ankle bracelets, but also performers who solicit donations.
The rule attracted little notice at first. But the enforcement in Washington Square Park in the past two months has generated summonses ranging from $250 to $1,000.
I've actually spent a little time in Washington Square Park, and if there's a "commerce" problem there, it really isn't the buskers: It's all the open-air drug dealing. There's nothing subtle about it. And there's something both misguided and embarrassing about a municipal government that would focus on cracking down on folk singers and mimes while leaving the dealers relatively undisturbed. Seems to me the latter pose the far greater threat to the quality of life in the park and neighborhood.
My PhillyMag editor Erica Palan loves her new iPhone 4S, but she's not worried that Siri won't point her to the nearest abortion doctor:
When I asked Siri where I could get a Pap smear nearby, she didn’t understand. She was similarly confused when I asked her where I could get a mammogram, a colonoscopy and a prostate exam. Also, when I told her I had a broken hand, she asked for an email address instead of recommending hospitals or doctors. When I asked for advice for my bunion, she responded, “I don’t know what you mean by Bunyon. [sic]” After wondering who could fix my toothache, Siri asked me to provide a contact name. She’s not pro-life. She’s just not a very good medical professional.
Siri doesn’t know how to correlate the names of specific medical procedures to nearby results. Ask Siri where the nearest Planned Parenthood is and she instantaneously provides addresses. She also suggested 16 gynecologists in my area. Ask her for an emergency dentist and she serves up search results within seconds.