Just as ideology is better than dogma. I dunno, something happened last night and it's gonna take a while for everyone's reactions to filter through. I imagine that comments are gonna be thin on the groud for a while. keep to the Fen Causeway
I am not sure "cult" is a more flattering description than "church" though :-P
- Jake Ceterum censeo Chicago esse delendam
What I meant was that it might impolitic of me to promote that title to the front-page in the current context. No need to kick people that are feeling bruised already.
If it is a moderation request, I will of course comply. But I assume that it is not, because I didn't see the [ET moderation technology] tag anywhere in the comment.
If it is simply general advice on the making of readable diaries, rather than one of the above, then I must respectfully decline to follow it for the reasons stated in bullets 1 and 2.
Please don't use the G word.</snark> It'd be nice if the battle were only against the right wingers, not half of the left on top of that — François in Paris
I don't generally get all that attached to titles, so changing one doesn't seem like a big deal to me.
I'm not particularly attached to the title as such. But I am attached to the principle of not airbrushing my diaries when I put my foot in my mouth.
don't generally get all that attached to titles
Sam currently has a baby in her belly, so she must have eaten one, so that's more evidence.
(a) the "C" word is in quotes; and
(b) it's on the Diary header, so, like the "18 years and above" disclaimers on the sex-shop windows, it's only consenting adults who should venture inside!
Jake, have you got any astrology in the back room......? ;-)
Ah, right, I'd forgotten astrology on my list of crankery in point 2c :-P
Thanks for reminding me.
I have never told anyone they can't say anything. I've only said 1)ET is not a church of any sort, even the secular sort, and 2)I belong to no church and please stop harassing me
That's not censorship. That's me talking about me and me disagreeing with those who would assume I share their belief system - even if it is a secular one.
Write about churches until your brain explodes if you like. But just don't say that poemless belongs to one. If you want to finagle the definition of church so that it applies to ET- fine- (I'm going by the OED myself, but respect a person's artistic rights), but again, having the right to say something does not de facto make whatever you say true or fair. Come, my friends, 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
It's a misleading, and worse, unnecessary metaphor, even if somewhere on this planet it is commonly used. Placing an adjective in front of a noun doesn't change the essence of the noun; it only narrows its definition. There are infinite differences between communities and churches. All churches may be communities but that does not mean all communities are churches. If you want to say community - say community. Don't say church. Language may be a form of creative expression, but even then, it has to communicate ideas effectively. Which is why, when we see a cat, we don't say, "look at the cute puppy!" People would say, "where? what are you talking about?" "Oh, you know what I mean. It has four legs and fur and is a pet. puppy, cat, whatever." You have a right to say "puppy," but should expect others to be frustrated and confused when you do.
Is ET a community. Sure, to varying degrees for different people. But communities don't have to share a set of beliefs. Just norms. Agree to some rules so no one gets killed. This isn't rocket science. Come, my friends, 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
You're saying that ET should be catholic in the beliefs it accepts?
(Also, can we take the semantic quibbles somewhere else? Yes, "broad church" is a poorly chosen ideom, yes the accusation that someone belongs to a church is borderline insulting if the accused is an anti-clericalist (as I happen to be, for the record), and yes, making a miswording into 100+ post thread is making a mountain out of a molehill.)
"I wouldn't want to be in a club that wants me as a member" -Groucho Marx
reading that, came across this yesterday which I thought needed sharing, and you've saved me from writing a diary.
What's So Funny and Why: What's So Funny? Issue: Sarah Lawrence College Magazine
The late comedian Groucho Marx, famous for his quick wit, performed some of his best work in 1958 on a pile of East Berlin rubble for an audience of five. Among the five was Judith Dwan Hallet '64, then 16 and the daughter of Robert Dwan, the long-time director of Groucho's radio and TV shows. She and her father, along with Marx's wife and 11-year-old daughter, had accompanied him on the tour of Europe. In Dornum, the German town where Marx's mother had been born, the travelers discovered that the Nazis had obliterated all Jewish graves, and removed from the local church the old register of inhabitants from his parents' generation. Marx hired a car with a chauffeur, and told the driver to take the group to Adolph Hitler's grave in Berlin. It was surprisingly easy to get there. The car slipped through a checkpoint into a devastated gray and brown city of people in solemn clothing. Marx told the chauffer to drive to the bunker where Hitler was said to have committed suicide, where he was supposedly still buried. The rubble at the site was about 20 feet high. Wearing his characteristic beret but without the trademark cigar, Marx alone climbed the side of the debris. When he reached the top, he stood still for a moment. Then he launched himself, unsmiling, into a frenetic Charleston. The dance on Hitler's grave lasted a minute or two. "Nobody applauded," Hallet says. "Nobody laughed."
The late comedian Groucho Marx, famous for his quick wit, performed some of his best work in 1958 on a pile of East Berlin rubble for an audience of five.
Among the five was Judith Dwan Hallet '64, then 16 and the daughter of Robert Dwan, the long-time director of Groucho's radio and TV shows. She and her father, along with Marx's wife and 11-year-old daughter, had accompanied him on the tour of Europe. In Dornum, the German town where Marx's mother had been born, the travelers discovered that the Nazis had obliterated all Jewish graves, and removed from the local church the old register of inhabitants from his parents' generation. Marx hired a car with a chauffeur, and told the driver to take the group to Adolph Hitler's grave in Berlin.
It was surprisingly easy to get there. The car slipped through a checkpoint into a devastated gray and brown city of people in solemn clothing. Marx told the chauffer to drive to the bunker where Hitler was said to have committed suicide, where he was supposedly still buried.
The rubble at the site was about 20 feet high. Wearing his characteristic beret but without the trademark cigar, Marx alone climbed the side of the debris. When he reached the top, he stood still for a moment. Then he launched himself, unsmiling, into a frenetic Charleston. The dance on Hitler's grave lasted a minute or two.
"Nobody applauded," Hallet says. "Nobody laughed."
