Tetherd Cow Ahead

Conversation yesterday between Viridian and Vermilion, on the topic of Michael Jackson’s autopsy:

Vermilion: The idea that they cut up Michael Jackson makes me feel kinda creeped out.

Viridian: Well, it’s not like he’s never been cut up before…

While we’re being all religious & such, a little something to ponder. I bring to your attention one of the stories in the Bible that must surely be of the most critical significance for all Christians: Genesis 22.

For those of you who missed Sunday School the week they covered that (and couldn’t be arsed clicking on the link), it’s the chapter of Genesis that tells of the sacrifice of Isaac by Abraham. Let me precis:

In this story, God speaks to Abraham and tells him to take his treasured son Isaac up into the mountains, and there lay him on a stone and sacrifice him. Abraham is nonplussed by this odd * and bloodthirsty request, but nevertheless does as he’s told and just as he’s about to plunge the knife into Isaac’s chest, an angel appears and reveals the jolly jape - it was all a test to see if Abraham was really truly faithful to God! Everybody laughs, they all have lemonade…

I’ve always had a problem with the morality of God’s test of Abraham - it smacks of insecurity and manipulation on God’s part: “Abraham… if you reeallllly loved me you’d kill Isaac…” It defines love as having measures; there’s love, but then there’s proper love which apparently requires that you do despicable acts to someone who you love a bit less. I’m not comfortable with these ideas - these are very human notions - hardly the kind of superior compassion and empathy you’d expect from a being with godly pedigree.

But the real reason I dislike Genesis 22 is that it is supposed to demonstrate to all Christians why you should put your complete and unquestioning faith in God - the rationale being that if you do, no matter what God requires of you, He will never let you down. That’s a big ask, and you’d expect that kind of lesson to come with a mighty imprimatur - that’s inscription-on-a-stone-tablet stuff. At least.

So, let’s examine the story of Abraham a little more closely. The old man takes his son and a handful of servants (and an ass) up the mountain to perform the dirty deed. He doesn’t tell anyone what’s going on, least of all Isaac, who we may reasonably assume might have had some objections. When the happy campers get close to the top of the hill, Abraham tells the hangers-on to cool their heels while he and Isaac continue to the top alone. The rest of the story happens out of sight of any independent witnesses - a three-hander with Isaac, Abraham, and, at the critical moment, a timely angel.

So who, exactly, related the tale of what happened? It can only have been Abraham or Isaac.†

To clarify: in order to get meaning from the greatest lesson of Faith in the Bible we are expected to accept the word of one of the two men who were involved in the story. Anything could have happened on that hill top - as Abraham stood poised to plunge the dagger into Isaac’s heart there is absolutely nothing to say that he didn’t just change his mind about doing the deed, and then tell everybody that ‘God’ stayed his hand. Or indeed, he could have just made the whole thing up - for all we know, Abraham and Isaac spent the time playing a few hands of Texas Hold ‘em and chugging back a brew or two.

See, that’s the problem of attaining faith in supernatural beings - to get it, you always have to put your trust in human beings.

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*It’s odd because previously God has gone to great lengths to make sure Abraham has Isaac in the first place…

†Or the angel who deflects the knife, I guess, but let’s forgo the concept of supernatural entities providing testament for the existence of other supernatural entities. That just gets everybody giddy.

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The Continuing Misfortunes of Simple Graphics Man ~

#35: The Superfluous Seatbelt.

In which buckling up fails to save SGM from getting a bullet through the head.

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The second SGM sighting in a row from Joey, I believe!

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In case you were wondering, faithful Acowlytes, Prophet Peter Popoff still regularly communicates with me, albeit in a conversation that is fairly one-sided. He still hasn’t managed ever to respond to my questions, and one must consider that the silence after my last heartfelt offering has been decidedly chilly.

Previously, as you will recall, I had gotten a little excited that I am the only one who has made any money out of our exchange, but evidently my crowing has come to Prophet Pete’s attention. Today I received a missive in which he asks for his money back again:

Of course, that’s never going to happen, especially when he goes on to tell me that he ‘must do something very spiritual and private’ with the money. I think we all have a pretty good idea what kinds of things Prophet Pete does in the apse when no-one is around.

I am making quite a collection of Peter Popoff paraphernalia though, including, not before time, the elusive Dead Sea Salt, which arrived a few weeks back.

Prophet Pete must have known how much I’d been anticipating it - he couldn’t stop himself from scrawling his excitement on the front of the envelope:

Indeed, it excited someone in the post office too, because before it arrived in my letterbox the letter had quite obviously been opened and then sticky-taped closed again:

And lest you think it was a mistake, and the letter was ‘opened in error’, a second envelope inside the first one (Prophet Pete is very fond of a little envelope-in-envelope action) was opened also:

But the Dead Sea Salt was still in there, so I can only assume that the snoop didn’t truly understand the value of the contents.*

I’ve added the little salty baggy to my expanding Prophet Peter Popoff portmanteau, along with some other recent acquisitions - a golden Disk of Healing, another ten thousand dollar note, a piece of blue cloth (I can’t remember what the hell that was supposed to be), Aaron’s Rod (a toothpick in a little cotton bag), and one of Jesus’ sandals (funny, all that Bible verse and not one mention that Jesus had paper footwear).

I am confident that soon I will have enough to open the world’s first Prophet Peter Popoff museum! Admission charge will be 2c.

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*Either that, or they stole the winning lottery ticket that Prophet Pete had thoughtfully enclosed…

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Just because it involves xkcd and robots.

(Click pic for full strip)

The return of One Eye.

Make your own!

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Via Matt’s Musings. Thanks Matt!

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Spare me once more from the morons.

I’ve spoken before about senator Stephen Conroy*, the politician who somehow† has ended up being Australia’s advisor on all things internet, and today the Cow’s attention turns toward him once more. This time, it’s because he has decided to offer up his advice on internet security.‡ And Spagmonster knows that a guy with his level of 1337 k3wl is going to have some pretty U$3PhUL words to say on the matter. Am I right?

Yes, Senator Conroy, wearing his white hat out in public for all the world to see, yesterday launched Australia’s National Change Your Password Day.

“No one wants to lose their bank details to criminals or fall victim to an online scam and that’s why it’s important that people understand simple steps, such as getting a better, stronger password, can help them stay smart online and protect their personal information.”

Password? Password? Are you reading what I’m reading here? Stephen Conroy seems to be under the impression that people use only ONE PASSWORD!

Further demonstrating his uncanny 1337 (r3D3|\|714L$, Conroy goes on to recommend that:

…passwords always include letters and numbers and warned people to be vigilant. “Stop and think before you click on links or attachments.”

Jesus H. Christ. You’d think this guy has only just discovered the internet. What really worries me is that maybe that’s true.

Australians, answer me this: of all the people we could have had appointed to look after the most exciting and powerful concept to come the way of human civilization since the invention of language, why have we been saddled with a cretin? Not just someone who isn’t quite up to date with the latest and the neatest (that would be understandable) but someone who hasn’t got the faintest clue what he’s talking about. Worse, he hasn’t got the faintest clue, but he doesn’t know how to sound like he does!

Excuse me. I have to go change my password.

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†One can only speculate that he won the position on the hoop-la or the chocolate wheel.

‡After an ignominious (yet predictably sanctimonious) backdown on the imbecilic ‘Clean Feed’ proposal.

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