Stupidity Donation

I've seen it written (on a tee shirt or something along those lines) that stupidity should hurt.  And while there is a great deal of stupidity in this world that is greater than Harold Camping's "ministry", Family Radio's founder has gotten an undue amount of press lately, thanks to the stream of, for lack of a better term, utter bullshit that has issued forth from his mouth.  Or perhaps it was his anus.  Either way, I have a suggestion for what should be done once the sun rises on 22 May, proving once again that Mr. Camping is at best a deluded nutter who actually believes that there will be this rapture before the sun has set entirely on this Saturday and at worst a huckster who has defrauded thousands upon thousands of wide-eyed nimrods to the point where he has been able to build a $100 million radio network.

As far as I'm concerned, his intentions are immaterial because the end result is the same: thousands of people have been decieved, some to the extent of giving up their jobs and spending their savings by today because they believe that there will literally be no tomorrow.  Actually, these people have decided to blind themselves, for it even says in their own literature that none shall know the day that their Lord will swoop down and pick them all up and take them to heaven.  Everything their religion teaches them outside of Family Radio's sphere of influence, EVERYTHING in their Bible tells them that it is impossible to know when "God's glory" will visit itself upon the Earth and suck all good Christians into the sky.  Once again, IT SAYS THIS IN THEIR BIBLE, LITERALLY THE FOUNDATION OF THEIR RELIGION, AND THEY CHOOSE TO IGNORE IT.  Along with all of the other reasoned opinions as to why they are on a fool's errand.

So, Harry and his minions have quite obviously chosen to blind and deafen themselves so they can follow him into oblivion.  And while I genuinely feel bad for them and for the fact that many of them will be jobless and destitute tomorrow morning, it is important to remember that they have chosen ignorance to reason.  It is for this reason that I believe that tomorrow morning, Family Radio's assets should be liquidated and all proceeds donated to charity.  Everything must go.  Imagine what $100 million could do for people in any of the world's myriad conflict- and poverty-ravaged lands.  There are thousands, millions perhaps, who would be helped by such a generous sum of money.

"Wait a second, James," you might be saying to yourself right now.  "What about giving the donations back to those Harry Camping tricked?  Those people will be destitute, too."  This is where I bring it all back around to my opening line: Stupidity should hurt, and losing all that money would hurt quite a lot.  Their money's gone anyway; Harry's not giving a single donation back tomorrow and those who have quit their jobs and spent their savings aren't going to be able to return everything they bought.  And since this was a choice made consciously by these folks, no one stole anything from any of them, so let's put this money to some good use, shall we?

Is this a harsh lesson?  Yes.  Is it a steep price for someone to pay for choosing ignorance?  Absolutely.  But they will at least have the luxury of being able to start the recovery process tomorrow, a luxury some unfortunate victims of their own poor decisions are not afforded.  So, here's hoping that Family Radio's listenership wakes up tomorrow morning, has a facepalm moment, realizes that the world not ending isn't the end of the world and carries on the ugly business of picking up the pieces, having learned their lesson and shown the world by their example that listening to eschatological prophecies is a costly mistake.

Now, does anyone know where to start a petition to force the liquidation of Family Radio?

Personal Update

Just dropping all my friends back in the States a line to let you all know how I'm doing in Barcelona.  Sarah and I have moved into our new place in the heart of the city and we are thoroughly enjoying it here.  The apartment is open, airy and bright, which is quite a contrast to our former cave-like dwelling.  The walls are all whites and yellows and oranges and the flat has a very warm feel to it.
Sarah's busy with school work and I'm busy distracting myself, but she's settled into a routine and I'm quickly finding a rhythm myself.  One that gets me out of the house more, I hope.  I've got a couple language exchanges going on, one with a friend of ours and another with someone I met through a site called Lingo Bongo.  People go there to post for language exchanges as well as teaching classes in English or French or German or whatever.

Hopefully, we'll get to do some traveling this summer.  I personally don't care where; there's a ton of Spain left to see and we've some family and friends in other realms around the continent, so if everything works out, I'll be telling you all about adventures in France or Germany or Eastern Europe, perhaps!

All's well here, so I'll leave you with a photo of the garden my lovely wife has been working on:

That's my bamboo in the center!

I Think I Need A Guidance Counselor

I am quite astonished to have written those words for my headline, but I fear this is the case.  I am looking for some sort of career after I leave Spain, but I don't know where to begin my search.  I have a Bachelor's Degree in History from the University of South Florida and ten years of experience in video production and editing.  I am passionate about photography, writing and travel and I enjoy editing my wife's academic papers, research and anything that gets me out of the apartment or office, such as hiking or bicycling.

I would like to work in the field of environmental conservation, most specifically in the global warming/climate change area, although I would happily work for any firm or non-governmental organization that supports sustainable living.  I would prefer not to have to go back to school at this moment, but it certainly is an option, and I would like to continue living abroad and traveling if at all possible.  Does anybody, anywhere, have any intelligent suggestions for me?  Any ideas as to where to begin my search?  I am just beginning to explore the new social networking/job hunting crossover sites like Idealist.org and hoping I might find something suitable there, but if anyone has any other ideas or knows of where the aforementioned jobs are hiding, I would love to hear from you.  Just hit me up in the comment section below and you will have my gratitude.

So, What Are Your Plans for the 22nd of May?

I've actually known for a few weeks at least that there are a few crackpots people out there who believe that Judgment Day is nearly upon us.  For the most part, I've gotten a good laugh out of the notion that there are people who would so blindly listen to someone who had already missed a prediction (the sun rose on 7 September 1994, presumably to the chagrin of one Harold Camping, the founder of a $100 million enterprise called Family Radio who now is calling for the Rapture on the 21st).  My laughter has been stanched, however, by this article.

Mr. Camping may well and truly believe that Judgment Day is but a couple of weeks away.  Many people have in the past claimed to have been able to divine The Divine's design and been able to convince others of their of their staunch belief.  And there have been many lives destroyed as a result of these failed prophecies.  But something about this article struck me as profoundly sad.  The notion that there are those who, like the Martinezes, have planned every last dime to have been spent by the time they're sucked into the sky hadn't really occurred to me before reading this piece.  I suddenly became aware that there will be an awful lot of people who face not only emotional devestation two Sundays from now, but financial devestation as well.  And some of them, like the Martinez's two-year-old daughter and their unborn child (due after the Rapture) haven't any choice in the matter whatsoever.

It's quite amazing what people are able to convince themselves of in the face of more rational views (the Bible itself, from which Mr. Camping claims to have arrived at the ultimate date, admonishes its readers that no one, not even the Messiah, knows the date).  Mother Jones has a very interesting article regarding the mental gymnastics people do to justify their rationale in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary.  But it's quite distrubing to see what effect this closed-mindedness can have on the irredeemably naive and particularly those who care about them.  Now, because of a multimillionaire and Christian, there are families being torn asunder as a result of people's abject unwillingness to listen to reason.

At 89 years of age, Mr. Camping, the leader of these poor, misguided souls, will probably meet his Judgment Day before the vast majority of those who have invested themselves in his prophecy.  I just hope it's sometime after 22 May so that he might be able to face the judgment of his flock in a much more corporeal setting.  Hang in there, Mrs. Brown, and try not to be too hard on your crestfallen husband.

Jubilance Reigns for My Old Hometown and My New Hometown

The police were there, but the crowd wasn't giving them much to do.

Last night, two great things happened within hours of each other for my adopted hometown and my place of birth: FC Barcelona, the city's beloved soccer team and standard-bearers for many a Catalan separatist, took down their bitter rivals, Real Madrid, to advance to the finals of the UEFA Champions League.  For the uninitiated (and I do not pretend to know very much about soccer, so I can but skim the surface here), the UEFA Champions League is the top trophy a European soccer club can win.

There was a healthy crowd on hand.

Some climbing was done

The celebrations here began around 10.30pm (22.30, for those of you inclined to 24-hour notation) and the din was so great that I began to wonder if the Blaugrana had in fact won the battle for Armageddon.  After 90 or so minutes of listening to the happy cries of Barca's faithful, I decided that this was a cultural event I would be poorer for missing.  So, I grabbed my camera and began walking the few blocks from our apartment to Plaza Catalunya, the spiritual heart of the city.  Along the way, I was passed by more than a few revelers and more than a few police officers.  For the most part, it was a relatively orderly gigantic celebration of nationalistic pride expressed as a soccer game, although the crowd was thick enough to prevent me from getting all the way up to Plaza Catalunya.

And, of course, the press was covering it all.

The celebration lasted well into the night.  For FC Barcelona to advance by way of defeating Real Madrid sent the city (and quite possibly all of Catalonia) into a frenzied celebration that lasted well into the night.  I should know; I was up until 4.00 in the morning local time watching the Lightning beat one of their biggest rivals, the Washington Capitals.

It's been seven long and mostly inglorious years since the Tampa Bay Lightning hoisted the Stanley Cup for the first (and, so far, only) time in their history.  They went through two ownership changes; Oren Koules and Len Barrie nearly destroyed the team to the extent that now I won't watch movie or television show produced by Oren Koules (of the Saw franchise and also a producer for the Charlie Sheen-torpedoed Two and a Half Men) before Jeff Vinik rode in and rescued the team from a becoming the Florida version of the New York Islanders--a fate worse than death.

In his first season of ownership, Vinik managed the twin coups of hiring Steve Yzerman away from the best organization in North American professional sports, the Detroit Red Wings, and plucking the hottest coaching prospect, Guy Boucher, right out from under the nose of the Montreal Canadiens several years before that organization thought he was ready for the NHL.  Yzerman and Boucher have proven themselves not only ready for the challenge of rebuilding (resurrecting?) a franchise, but turning that franchise into legitimate Stanley Cup contenders overnight.

The 4-3 victory over the Capitals on 3 May gives the Lightning a three games-to-none stranglehold on their Eastern Conference Semifinals that no one thought the Bolts were capable of pulling off, save for, perhaps, the Lightning themselves.  And while the Tampa Bay Lightning have by no means clinched their birth in the Eastern Conference Finals, they look well-positioned to be able to pound in the final nail on the coffin holding the hopes of the Capitals and their Stanley Cup aspirations.  The Bolts will hopefully do so either tonight or Saturday and not let the Capitals hang around long enough to get their confidence back.

It is, of course, impossible to predict where the Lightning's run will end, but if it ends with them hoisting the Stanley Cup, I may be as ebullient as the fans you see in the photos up top.  I'll try not to climb on any lampposts, though.

In a few days here, I'll post my thoughts on bin Laden's being killed that will probably burn a few bridges and lose some Facebook friends at the least.  Maybe by then we'll know the outcome of the Lightning's tussle with the Capitals.

Just Don't Feel Like It

There are about 151,549 different things I could be doing right now that would actually be productive and I don't feel like doing a one of them. I've shirked any semblance of responsibility I might have (which is surprisingly considerable for an "unemployed" expatriate) and dragged myself off the couch solely for water and a peanut butter sandwich and a half. I've downloaded a good deal of music, including most of The Dillinger Escape Plan's catalog. I may have a new favorite metal outfit, although they are a bit of a hard listen.

I'd make excuses for this behavior (at least I was up at 7.10 this morning, it's been a drizzling and partly miserable day, won't SOMEBODY appreciate the sheer volume of music downloaded, Mother Jones had some REALLY interesting sh*t in it) but it really doesn't solve any of the underlying motivational issues. So the bottom line remains the same: I have spent the day stealing your precious air, just sucking in air, nourishing my body with the oxygen it contains and blowing out nothing but carbon dioxide and waste gases that I cannot use effectively. I feel like I should apologize, but I won't. It wouldn't change anything anyway. I'm going to work on my other blog now. Thanks for reading! (No, you may not have the last five minutes of your life back.)

Tyranny in Blue and Yellow

There's something vaguely sinister about Ikea. I have a hard time defining it, which leads to chuckles from my friends and family when I first tell them, "I think there's something vaguely sinister about Ikea." But I think it has to do with the uniformity with which their stores are laid out and the fact that every last little piece of everything is for sale. You can buy it all, even the fake computers and TVs, I suspect. And there are those little arrows telling you where you should be going. Not where you MUST go, mind you; no, that would lay bare their hidden agenda of world domination for all to see.

The store is far too clever to give up its intentions so readily. Instead, Ikea entices all with its promise of fashionable, cozy modernism for any budget. Are you well compensated? We have a luxurious sofa for you for $600. On the lower end of the pay scale? Here's a futon for $150, a light fixture for $5. And it's all so tidy and kempt. They've even arranged the furnishings for you: they have "apartments" as small as 55 square feet laid out in their stores, fully bedecked in their wide variety of coffee tables, bunk beds and kitchen ranges.

Interestingly, like the ersatz apartments built within the stores, there are almost no windows in the stores themselves, at least on their sales floors. They mimic casinos in that way, further embedding the notion that one isn't in a furniture store so much as an alternate reality, an Ikea world where things are peaceful, harmonious and tastefully decorated. One could easily lose track of time (there is a distinct dearth of clocks in Ikeas as well) and find him- or herself spending an entire afternoon in its cozy confines.

The icing on this conspiratorial cake is Ikea's ability to put a warm, human face on all of this. So insidiously ingenious is their plan that one cannot help but to ignore all of the aforementioned subtle clues to the store's true intentions and embrace the fluffy consumerism promoted inside.

I suspect that there are others out there who, like me, have begun to divine the plot for world domination buried deeply within the smartly-appointed store but who are just as unable as I am to discern enough of the details to rip the mask off this institution and expose its nefarious plan. So, in the interests of all of humanity, I shall continue to make the occasional foray into this Swedish heart of darkness, brave its enticements of moderately-priced modernism, purchase an item or two for closer inspection at home and report, dear readers, on my findings. Wish me good fortune.