The Names of God

The Names of God

By Quentin Smeltzer, www.SmeltzerNation.com, Oct-21-2010

Somehow of late, I find myself attending an adult confirmation class at my church.  You might think the reasons for signing up for a class that will examine God, religion and our place in the world might come from some deep philosophical bent or some mystical nexus of serendipity and fate, but actually it’s much simpler than that:  my wife told me I had to. 

I don’t even think she needs me to become more religious, per se.  I think she just wants me out of the house.  Any excuse will do.

My church is the Congregational Church, which, as far as I can tell, is a collection of pretty much anyone who wants to show up on Sunday morning for an hour of music and talk and then drink coffee and loiter about for twenty minutes or so afterwards.  Our group is made of Catholics, Jews and Protestants, as well as a healthy contingent of agnostics.  There are absolutely no standards to join our church which, of course, makes it the perfect church for me. 

Personally I am leaning towards the Bill Maher variety of atheism, except atheists, so far as I can tell, seldom get together for free coffee and cake.  The other reason I don’t go whole hog into the atheism camp is that every time I seriously screw up in life I find myself praying to God to get me out of it.  I rarely catch myself praying to Bill Maher. 

As I write in my book (shameless plug alert!) Self Help, Your Complete Book of Bad Advice for Situation in Life, there is a big difference between God and Religion.  If you read any of the holy books—the Bible, the Koran, the Bhagavad Gita, Battlefield Earth—you will soon notice that religions try to control you; God doesn’t care what you do.  You can rape, murder, pillage, enslave; God is perfectly okay with all of it!  Religions, on the other hand, want to tell you when, where and how you can pray, eat, dress, sit, stand, kneel and make babies.  Other than that, they’re cool.

In a recent Adult Confirmation class we were handed a sheet to discuss which contained maybe seventy or eighty different names for God.  Apparently, this was the abridged version. 

One of the names that spoke to me was “LORD of Armies.”  I can’t imagine anything would make me religious faster than marching into battle.  I played paintball at a birthday party a few months ago and I couldn't keep a bunch of ten year olds from shooting my ass up, so I can’t imagine facing the real thing.

Another name was “LORD our Banner” which made me think of God as a local supermarket chain.  “Hiding Place” was an interesting name for God.  If Hiding Place appeals to you, you may just have some parental issues worth discussing with a professional. 

Other words for God included “Daddy,” “Father,” “Mother,” and “Husband,” which made me wonder why “Skip,” “Buddy” and “Chipper” weren’t in there. 

“I AM” was a popular name with the class as was the more loquacious, “I AM WHAT I AM.”  I looked on the sheet but could not find “I AM WHAT I AM AND THAT’S ALL THAT I AM, I’M POPEYE THE SAILOR MAN”, but it may have been there somewhere. 

One that bothered me was the must-not-even-be-spelled-out version:  “G_d.”  I understand that not saying the name of God out loud comes from understanding that God is too vast a concept to be named, but if we can’t say the name and we can’t spell it, well c’mon; this is just too damn difficult!  It’s like trying to write about the artist formerly known as Prince.

In the end, I suppose it doesn’t matter what you call god or how you think of he, she or it.  And if the entire subject has left you completely confused I have suggestion for you: join the Congregationalists.  We don’t have clue either. 

Week in Review

The Week in Review

By Quentin Smeltzer, 9/27/2010

I’ve been travelling lately so it has been a little difficult to keep track of current events.  But let’s see, Christine O’Donnell won the Republican primary for the Senate race for Delaware and Bill Maher outed her as a witch.  Evidently the time is right for a candidate who has firsthand knowledge of satanic mass, believes that stem cell research is bad because scientists have already inserted human brains into mice and is sure there is no such thing as evolution because she has yet to observe any changes in the monkeys at her local zoo.  And who could argue?

On the other hand, her anti-masturbation stance may prove more problematic.  I mean, let’s face it, sex with ourselves is pretty much the only sex some us ever see.  Especially those of us who are married.  And it is not just the anti-masturbation position.  It is the way she argued against it.  Said Christine:  “I mean, if you’re going to masturbate, what am I here for?”  What indeed, Christine, what indeed?

Then there was Steven Colbert, who testified Friday before congress in character as a right wing, bloviating fool.  Evidently it didn’t go well.  People called it embarrassing, inappropriate, out of place and disrespectful.  But let’s take a step back, shall we?  First of all, this is congress we’re talking about.  If bloviating fools aren’t allowed to testify there are going to be some pretty lonely congress-people up there.  Second, Colbert warned them he was going to appear “in character.”  Did they think he meant he was going to wear a bear costume?  And third, he submitted his serious testimony in writing beforehand.  I have no idea what he said in his written testimony and neither do you, which should tell you everything you need to know about the effectiveness of serious testimony.  

But I will tell you why the Colbert thing backfired.  Because nobody laughed, that’s why.  Had he started with serious testimony and then announced he was going into character, and then come up with a funny line or two, all would have been well.  But to press ahead with his act to stone-faced silence was just painful to watch. 

Doing your act in front of stone-faced silence is something I know a thing or two about.  Having had a few successful comedy performances and a few less successful comedy performances I can tell you there is a very simple distinction between what is funny and what is not:  if they laugh it’s funny.  That’s pretty much how it works. 

Some other stuff happened recently, like congress voted down repeal of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.  I’ve never really understood how that is supposed to work, by the way.  I mean, the recruits go off on weekend leave and they come back and they’re sitting around and Bill says, man, we hooked up with these smokin’ babes at a bar.  And Steve says, my girlfriend and I went out to the lake.  Then they turn to Bruce and ask, what did you do this weekend, and Bruce says, Oh, nuthin'.

I guess the final bit of news was the Republicans released their Pledge to Do to America What They Did the Last Time They Were Allowed to Do Things to America.   But this time things will be different.  The Republicans realize they made mistakes the last time they were in charge.  That’s why this time they are pledging to cut taxes for the super-rich, return us to the healthcare system which was serving us so well, remove pesky regulation from Wall Street and oil companies, and go to war with Iran at the earliest imaginary opportunity.  Frankly, it would be less scary if they were pro-witchcraft. 

Tea Time?

Tea Time?

By Quentin Smeltzer, 9/16/2010

Democrats are rubbing their hands in glee now that eight Tea Party candidates have beaten more moderate Republicans in Republican primaries.  But why? 

Democrats say people like Sharon Angle, Rand Paul and Christine O’Donnell can’t win general elections.  Heck, even Karl Rove says O’Donnell can’t win!  Well, maybe not in Cuba, turd blossom, but I think she’ll do just fine right here in the good ol’ US of A.  In fact, she might do alright in Cuba now that Fidel has admitted that a true welfare state, without a cold war superpower pumping cash into it, really can’t make it on its own.  Tea Party activism should be popping up in Havana any day now…

Republican hypocrisy is surely the eighth wonder of the world, not that anyone can name the original seven without turning to Wikipedia.  By the way, six of the seven wonders have disappeared along with all Republican credibility. 

A few months ago Republicans were wailing about deficits.  In fact, that’s what got the tea baggers out of their trailer homes and into the streets.  That and the fact there’s a Kenyan Islam-o-terrorist in the White House!  How did that happen?  But now Republicans insist that hundred thousand dollar tax cuts be extended to millionaires at a cost of billions of dollars of borrowed money per year, extracted from the futures of the rest of us.  Sounds like a plan!

Of course, these are the same Republicans who won in 2000 with a pledge to restore fiscal discipline.  Then they ran up the largest spending binge seen on this planet since the Hanging Gardens of Babylon (second wonder of the world) or the last time Donald Trump decorated a vacation home (wonder why).  To say Republican necks must be suffering the effects of whiplash doesn’t do it justice.  My belief is their heads actually spin like Linda Blair’s in the Exorcist. 

When predicting whether tea baggers can be elected, you have to remember that this is the country that elected George Bush—twice!  And the second time he got the most votes!  Powerful forces are in play.  Cutting taxes is a drug.  It is more powerful than roads, bridges, health care and foreign wars.  It is a drug the way welfare was a drug.  It is an obsessive compulsion that leads to debilitating results. 

Will a society endure that is based on the socialist principle that you give to all according to their need?  No it will not.  Few will work if it not working pays.  We figured that out a few decades ago. 

But will a society endure that is based on a Darwinian meritocracy, where it is every man for himself according to his ability and his effort?  No it will not.  The talented few will end up with all the marbles and the middle will suffer.  Without a strong middle class to buy stuff, the economy will collapse.  This isn’t theory.  This is the end of eight years of Bush.  This is what is known as 2008.

We’ve seen both of these movies, so why worry?  Because Americans love a remake, that’s why!  Somehow we forget that Rocky will win and John Connor will survive.  Somehow we’re surprised when the head of the little girl possessed by demons turns completely around on its axis.  Just like Republican “principles.” 

Cue the voice over:  In a world where no one pays taxes and you can pay for your cardiogram with a chicken, if you have a chicken… Don’t miss, Robber Barons II, Mansions and Misery!  Coming this November to a congress near you!

Just a Hunk, a Hunk of Burning Hate

Just a Hunk, a Hunk of Burning Hate

Quentin Smeltzer, www.SmeltzerNation.com, 9/8/2010

As you are likely aware, three days from now some nutjob pastor in Florida is going to burn copies of the Islamic holy book, the Quran.  I say nutjob in only the most positive way.  This is the kind of thing that could only happen in Florida.  Or Texas.  Or Arizona… heck I guess it could happen anywhere in this country, although it is difficult to imagine it taking place in my polite state of Connecticut.  Then again, we may elect the former head of the World Wrestling Federation as our new junior Senator, so let’s stick with it could happen anywhere. 

One thing I remember from my youth is conservatives love to burn stuff.  McCarthy incited the burning of pro-communist books.  The Catcher in the Rye was burned.  Beatles records were burned.  Before my time, a few Negro slaves were tossed into the flames.  One thing Americans know is that if you don’t like something, blow it up, and if you can’t blow it up, at least set it on fire!

To be fair, this urge to burn stuff is not confined to the right.  I don’t recall any conservatives burning the American flag.  I remember quite a few of them jumping to the conclusion that we must have yet another change to the Constitution (which they so dearly love just the way it is) to protect the flag.  But they weren’t burning it.  They didn’t burn their draft cards.  And was it conservatives out there burning their bras?  No, of course not.  Republican girls need the support. 

Nor is this urge to burn confined to America.  The Nazis famously burned books with which they disagreed.  The Chinese burned books (and buried the scholars who wrote them)!  The Quran has been burned before, during the Spanish Inquisition.  There was the destruction of the library at Alexandria and the burning of the Mayan codices in 1562…  Good times, good times…

So let’s face it, we all of us, left and right, near and far, we all love to burn stuff!  In fact, burning stuff may be the world’s favorite way to say, I disagree with you.  But why is this?  How to explain it?  Well, can you say “Weenie roast?”   And here’s a question for you:  what’s more cheery and heart-warming than a fire?  Answer:  a fire that devours thoughts and ideas you don’t have the intellectual firepower to refute, that’s what!

So let’s not get too down on our little pastor from Florida.  He’s not original, he’s nothing new.  He’s just doing what tyrants, despots and the intellectually feeble have done for centuries: casting big scary shadows from teeny, weenie people with just a little help from a glowing pile of ignorance and hate. 

Mad Men

Mad Men

Quentin Smeltzer, www.SmeltzerNation.com, 9/1/2010

Why is everyone so mad at the Obama administration?  The George W. Bush administration was all marketing.  The Obama administration has no marketing.  I think this is the problem. 

In the Bush years we heard about the “Clear Skies Initiative” which gave companies free reign to pollute.  We heard about “tax cuts for everyone” which let the rich steal the middle class’ future.  We heard about “mushroom clouds” from Iraq, which let us start an unpaid for, trillion-dollar war in search of weapons of mass destruction.  Still haven’t found them.  

The Republicans told us about “fiscal responsibility” and “deregulating business.”  We got crazy spending, a financial meltdown and a contaminated gulf.  We heard about “small government” and watched New Orleans drown.  We heard about “a culture of life” and lost cures that could have helped millions—my twelve-year-old son, for one. 

To call it all bullshit might be on target.  But I prefer to call it marketing.

If you say anything negative about the vast mass of people that inhabits the space between New York and Los Angeles you will quickly be labeled an elitist.  Sarah Palin routinely warns the country not to discount the intelligence of her followers, apparently well aware that there's an issue here.

Many pundits and pols will say “the American people are not stupid,” but really, sadly, they are.  Think back to the months leading up to the invasion of Iraq.  The minute I heard on the radio the return of the Hank Williams Jr. song, “Don’t Give Us a Reason,” I knew we were going back in.  You knew it, too.  So don’t look down on bumper sticker politics.  This is exactly the kind of politics Obama needs. 

Let’s take healthcare reform, which is still, somehow, unpopular.  Let’s give regular, medical care to people who haven’t had the good fortune to make a lot of money so they can get off the couch and go back to work.  How is this not popular?  No marketing, that’s how. 

Imagine if we could get ol’ Hank Jr. to sing a new song entitled “We Take Care of Our Own,” warning greedy insurance companies not to mess with the good ol’ US of A and not to deny poor widows and hard workin’ farmers access to that country doctor.  You know what would happen?  The same morons now demanding repeal of health care reform would demand more health care reform.  This isn’t rocket science.  It’s marketing. 

How about bumper stickers and a song called “Pay Your Share,” where ol’ Hank warns all them evil bankers to stop siphoning away the money that grandma and orphans depend on?  Can you say repeal the Bush tax cuts for the rich?  I bet you could after you heard that song.

Could we get Obama to visit a ranch and clear some brush?  How about a cowboy hat?  EVERYONE looks better in a cowboy hat.  And anything would be better than pictures of his skinny legs in those shorts he insists on wearing when he plays golf.  They don’t wear shorts on the PGA Tour for a reason.  It isn’t comfort; it’s called marketing.

On the television show “Mad Men” it is clear that the main character, Don Draper, is a man who can see what everyone wants and he uses that knowledge to sell whatever he has.  The tension comes from the fact that Don doesn’t know what he himself wants.  Obama knows what he has to sell and he knows that most of us want it.  What Obama lacks is the most basic understanding of how to sell it. 

Bumper stickers and country songs, Barry.  And pick up a hat while you’re at it.

Mosque We?

Mosque We?

Quentin Smeltzer, SmeltzerNation, 8/22/2010

No one is more disturbed than I that on every issue that comes up, I seem to side with my liberal rather than my conservative friends.  However, as I’ve recently written, until you righties actually get something right, that’s just the way it’s going to have to be…

The latest example is what is known as the “Mosque Controversy.”  Should an Imam be allowed to build a mosque at Ground Zero?  First of all, only Imam’s build mosques, as far as I know, so the fact that the construction is being put forth by an Islamic, religious leader really can’t be helped. 

Stupid attempts at humor aside, I understand it is a cultural center, not a mosque, and it is not to be built at “Ground Zero” but two blocks away.  I don’t know if you’ve ever been to Manhattan (I lived there for ten years) but two blocks away in Manhattan is like the next town over for the rest of the country.  A lot goes on in two blocks of Manhattan.  Neighborhoods can begin and end, social-economic conditions flip, the architecture changes, different languages are spoken; everything can change in the space of two blocks in Manhattan!

But let’s try to be reasonable here.  Those of you who oppose this new mosque, how many blocks would you like?  Would three blocks be better?  Four?  How about four blocks and a side street?  How about just past the topless bar, and across from the pizza joint, near the church that was converted into a nightclub? 

I am also troubled by the term Ground Zero.  Shouldn’t we call it Ground Less Than Zero, since it’s been almost ten years now and there is nothing there but a giant hole in the ground?  And doesn’t the fact that this particular religious leader is one Imam who has worked diligently to promote peaceful dialog and understanding between Muslims, Jews and Christians count for something?

Not to the Fox and Rush crowd.  They see a wedge issue.  They see another opportunity to rile up the yahoos and get them out there in the streets with their Obama-as-witch-doctor signs on the evening news.  They see a way to stir anger against the Democrats, which is the only way they’re ever going to win another election: because they haven’t got a single idea that works between them. 

Oh wait, I forget, they have ideas:  when Reagan cut taxes, the economy improved and revenues went up.  Gee, that must mean that if we keep cutting taxes, revenue will go even higher!  In fact, if you really care about the budget deficit, cut taxes to zero!  Revenues will explode!  That assumes, of course, that you can explode to zero.  Which, sadly, brings us back to our topic. 

Some say the cultural center-cum-mosque will be a thumb in the eye of the 9/11 victim families.  Others say it will show the world that we really mean it when we say this country protects and defends religious freedom, whether it’s popular or not—especially when it’s not. 

The correct answer is door number two.  Sorry Conservatives.  I really do hope to side again with you soon.  However, I’m afraid that, once again, you’ve chosen incorrectly.

Vacation Fun!

Vacation Fun!

Quentin Smeltzer, SmeltzerNation, 8/21/2010

It’s been a while since my last post because we’ve been on vacation.  You know what a vacation is: that’s when you go someplace you chose not to live, to get by without the creature comforts you most enjoy, to eat food you wouldn’t normally eat, and to pay boatloads of money for the privilege. 

A recent New York Times article says buying “things” doesn’t make us happy.  This is particularly good news for those of us with no discernible source of income.  Unfortunately, the article goes on to say that paying for experiences like sushi rolling lessons or vacations does make us happy.  So my wife decided we should take the money I'd been saving for a new motorcycle and spend it on a vacation.

And it is true that vacations always make me happy… when they end.  Nothing brightens my day like the news that I can stop paying hundreds of dollars a day to use stuff I can use at home for free.

But is it all about money?  If you looked at my bank balance you might conclude that it is.  But what about family bonding time, adventure and new experiences?  And it was a new experience to be yelled at by the attendant for daring to bring a small cooler poolside.  It was fun finding no parking place in the motel lot at night.  It was a delight to watch my wife and son shop for useless crap in the interminable string of gift and novelty stores that lined the main drag of our vacation village. 

And then there was the day we spent at the Six Flags Great Adventure amusement and water park.  My wife bought our “all-inclusive” tickets online, so we only paid about $120 to enter!  Our fun-filled day started with a mile-long walk from where we were allowed to park, for only an additional $10.  Then we got to stand in a swelling, impatient crowd waiting for the park to open.

When it did, we raced for the gondola ride, which I thought might give us a good overview of the park.  It turns out the gondola ride moves at roughly the same speed as the old woman in the commercial who has fallen and can’t get up.  This made for one LONG ride, inching along with our feet dangling thirty feet above the hot pavement.  Instead of traversing the park, giving us the reconnaissance I had hoped for, it made a small loop in the one corner of the park we had already seen.  Scratch off the first 45 minutes of our thrilling day!

Next, we got on one of those spinning, swing rides; the kind you can catch at the local fair that sets up in a field in your town every summer.  Hardly amusement park quality, but still enough to induce a mild case of vertigo coupled with nausea.  My son wasn't interested in the big roller coasters after that, so instead we decided to head into the water park to enjoy some splash-tastic fun!

Speaking of fun, the first choice we faced in the water park was how much we wanted to pay for a locker for our street clothes!  I think we opted for the $17 “medium.”  Standing in front of a wall of lockers my wife swiped her receipt in front of an electronic reader, and--voila!--a floor-level door popped open.  After changing into our bathing suits and jamming our street clothes into this rat hole we were ready to get wet 'n wild!

To get our wacky, watery adventure started, we stood in a line with inner tubes and climbed a four-story tower to go down a water slide.  The ride lasted twenty seconds.  The line lasted twenty minutes.

Quickly tiring of that, I spotted the line for the Black Cobra water tube ride.  This queue appeared to be short so I corralled my family in.  After we were in this line for twenty minutes we made a turn around a bend and saw there was a hidden part of the line, meaning it was three times longer than it first appeared.  After an hour in the broiling sun we got to the top to see a single attendant operating only one of the two Cobra tubes available.  I thought about asking this high school student making minimum wage why the other tube wasn't being used while people suffered sunstroke in the brutal heat, but really, I was just so happy to get the hell out of there I jumped in the raft with my son and we pushed off.  The sweltering, claustrophobic, neck-snapping ride lasted all of thirteen seconds. 

It was already lunch time and I was eager to see what delights might be available.  The answer was a marvel I had never seen before and frankly never hoped to see in my lifetime: the $10 slice of cheese pizza!

After this yummy lunch of white dough, tomato sauce and "real" cheese came the interesting challenge of finding a place to sit by the giant wave pool.  With arms loaded with bag and towels I walked past maybe 500 chaise lounges, each with a towel or a pair of sunglasses on it to “hold” it.  Finally, incredibly, I found the one open lounge in the entire park!  I put our stuff there, rechecked to make sure I still had my sunglasses, and started off to find wife and child.

Just steps away I was accosted by an angry New Yorker who accused me of stealing his chair and rifling through his property.  “The chair was empty,” I assured him.  “No it wasn't,” he said.   I used to argue with this kind of goon, sometimes receiving a fat lip for my trouble, always receiving a dose of adrenaline sufficient to make my eyeballs vibrate out of my head.  Now I take a cue from the pastor of my church:  I make my voice very small and say:  "Okay."

This doesn't do much for my action hero self image but it does help ensure that my feet reach the ground the rest of the day.  It also scores points with the wife who really doesn't need me to provide drama.

I gathered our things and we sat on our towels on the concrete.  At least the giant, wave pool will be fun, I thought.  But just as we got in they ordered the hundreds of people in it to get out.  There was no explanation.  Half an hour later when we were allowed back in there were no waves.  It was just a vast, crowded swimming pool, only deep enough to cover the tops of our knees. We left the pool and returned to our pile of towels on the ground.

It was around this time that my son, wife and I all noticed that our bare feet were beginning to blister from hours of standing and walking on hot concrete with no place to sit.  I cautiously asked if anyone was ready to go and tried to conceal my joy when it was unanimous:  oh yes.

Understandably exhausted from the three or four rides we had managed to cram into the course of our fun-filled, sun-baked, over-priced, five hours in the park, we made the long, painful hike back to our Lilliputian locker.  I crouched on the floor like a homeless person foraging a tipped over garbage can and clawed our belongings out.  We changed into street clothes and began the long death march back to our car. 

What a day!  Like the vacation itself, our Six Flags experience had indeed made me happy.  To leave.  As they say in their television commercials:  More flags, more fun!  I'm thinking they're still a couple of flags short...