Scandal

July 28, 2008 at 4:29 pm (Culture)
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William R. King, Fifteenth Vice-President of the United States

William R. King, Fifteenth Vice-President of the United States

I am constantly reminded that this thing we call politics is nothing more than a game of sorts.

And we, in modern America, assume that everything we have in our collective political experience is new.  And for the first time in American politics, that is true, in a way, with an African-American in serious contention for the top job.  But even he’s not the first to run for the coveted office.  

And with that, just so you’ll know, there really is nothing new in presidential politics.

Such as:  the opposing candidate is older, and we have elected older presidents; a number of women have competed for the presidency; affairs; liasons.  And the list, obviously, could continue.

But the vice-presidency is something about which we know very little … except, of course, when the vice-president becomes president, either by death, or by election.  The other men who have held this position, though, become lost in the fabric of American history.  

I thought it was expedient enough, then, to give us some perspective on the craziness of the political game we celebrate every four years. 

Linda Rodriguez wrote an article about our scandalous vice-presidents.  She listed ten.  I’ll give you a couple of her picks, word for word:
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“Chester Arthur took office under the thickest cloud of suspicion. As a lieutenant in Senator Roscoe Conkling’s political machine, Arthur held one of the most lucrative positions in government—collector for the port of New York. For seven years, Arthur raked in approximately $40,000 annually (about $700,000 today), running a corrupt spoils system for thousands of payroll employees. With so much money and power, Arthur developed an affinity for fancy clothes and earned the nickname “the Gentleman Boss.” But his luck didn’t last. President Rutherford Hayes eventually stepped in and fired him from the post.

Even with the kickback scandal and claims that he’d been born in Canada (which should’ve disqualified him for the vice presidency), Arthur still managed to get elected on James Garfield’s 1880 ticket. After Garfield passed away 199 days into his presidency, Arthur didn’t hesitate to sign the Pendleton Civil Service Reform Act. Much to the chagrin of Conkling, the Act revamped civil service by effectively killing the same patronage system that made Arthur very, very rich. In cleaning up civil service, Arthur also cleaned up his reputation, and he exited the White House a hero.”
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“Andrew Johnson took his 1865 vice-presidential oath drunk as a skunk … .  Having grown up dirt poor, Johnson felt the aristocracy in Washington had abused his kinfolk. Glassy-eyed and smelling of whiskey, he reminded Congress, the Supreme Court, the Cabinet, and pretty much everyone within hearing distance that they owed their positions to “plebeians” such as himself, then kissed the Bible and staggered away.

Needless to say, his address was poorly received. The New York World opined, “To think that one frail life stands between this insolent, clownish creature and the presidency! May God bless and spare Abraham Lincoln!” Unfortunately, God didn’t. The South surrendered six days before Lincoln’s assassination, leaving Johnson to handle Reconstruction—a job he bungled so completely that Congress moved to impeach him. Johnson avoided being booted out of office by just one vote.”
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And for others, you can do a little digging yourself.  William R. King, and his preferences.  John Breckendridge and Aaron Burr, and their loyalties.  Andrew Johnson and his vice-presidential inauguration.

Scandal isn’t a new thing with Americans.  It just seems that it is nothing more than a formality.

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Truth

July 24, 2008 at 12:59 pm (Culture, Entertainment, Happiness, Opinions, Purpose, Theology, Thinking)
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I suppose it is my turn to add to the minutia of writings about The Dark Knight.

I will offer no movie review here, although I do think it was a great film.  There are some things in the movie that would have offered a bit more balance, but the film itself banks on the assumption that you know these characters very well.  So it doesn’t offer you much in the way of character development.  We are not given any new information about Bruce Wayne, and the movie only offered lies about the Joker’s true origin.  I will concede, though, that the Batman undergoes some serious reflection.  The movie may need the Joker, but the morality in constant question was done so by the Batman.  But I’ll not discuss that here. 

Because what fascinated me the most was the constant vibe of truth spoken by the Joker.  It seems, to me, that in most great films, the villains always offer the surest voices of truth.  Truth is the one weakness with which we are all familiar, because truth is scary – even scarier than a crazy man in smeared makeup.  We mask truth with our interests.  But truth … truth is pure and unashamed, and it is always the subject of exploitation by the bad guys. 

The Joker had no scruples.  He had no remorse.  He was violent and crazy, but never, not once, foolish.  Consider the scene with the mountain of money which he burned, and then made the statement, almost in an impatient tone, that “it’s not about the money … it’s about sending a message.”  And that was true, in his world.  With the bank robbery at the beginning of the movie, you understand that the Joker could steal any amount of money he wanted.  You can do things like that when you don’t mind all the killing.

But the most powerful scene, of any one character in this movie, comes with Harvey Dent in a hospital bed, and half of his face burned and gone.  The Joker is there, posing as a nurse, as someone who cares for the sick, and offers Dent the medicine he wants.  Truth. 

As the “white knight” of Gotham, unstained and virtuous, Dent watched all of his ideals wither with death and mayhem, and in that lone hospital bed, with half of his face the testament of what he believed to be his failures, he listened to the Joker.  And the Joker told him truth.

He told Dent that the plans people made, any and all plans, were futile.  That plans always fail.  And when plans do fail, people are sent into chaos, because people invested so much into their plans. 

Obviously, how these characters react to this one truth is evident, and the greater point of the film.  The Batman wants to remove his cowl, and those are his plans, but those plans fail when Dent, and Gotham, are sent into chaos.  Dent plans to change the city, but can’t, when he becomes victim to its very crime.  Rachel wants to be with the one she loves, and her plan is to leave one for the other, but can’t because of the unexpected choices made by those two men.  And the Joker wants to send the city into oblivion, but can’t because of the salvation and hope offered by the very citizens of Gotham.

Hence, the plot proves the point that the only real truth in life is the reality of failed plans.   

Maybe the Joker had no scruples.  But he did have truth.

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Barren

July 16, 2008 at 4:42 pm (Culture, Nature)
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The following images were captured by the European Space Agency’s Mars Express probe, a satellite which has orbited the red planet since 2003.

And they are astonishing images of the barren landscape of Mars.


A site called Echus Chasma.

This cliff, part of Echus Chasma, is 13,000 feet high.

Echus Chasma, from a different perspective.

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First

July 14, 2008 at 3:08 pm (Church, Culture, Opinions, Theology)
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There were published reports in the past month that the oldest church in the world has been discovered.

Archaeologists discovered the church, a small chapel, beneath the altar of the St. Georgeous Church in the Jordanian town of Rihab.  St. Georgeous Church, itself ancient and now in ruins, was built about two hundred years after the death of Christ.


The First Church in the World.

But the small chapel, discovered beneath its altar, is believed to have been used between 33 AD and 70 AD.  That would mean that the veneration of the Christ was done, in groups, shortly after his death.  What is more remarkable is that this chapel, and the small group of Christians who found sanctuary there, are not recorded in the biblical narrative.

The evidence is speculatory, though, and, just so you know, it is very difficult, in the modern age of biblical archaeology, to prove the trueness of any artifact.  There is just too much at stake.

The evidence, however speculatory, is fascinating.  On the floor of St. Georgeous is the following inscription:  “70 Beloved by God and Divine.”  And the inscription seems to suggest that 70 met beneath this ancient church, and later, their ancestors, shielded from the Romans, until the conditions were favorable, and they were able to come out of hiding.  It was then that St. Georgeous was built.  The 70, to which the inscription refers, are believed to be 70 disciples who fled Jerusalem amidst persecution, and found haven here.

The chapel has also produced a circular sanctum with stone seats, sleeping quarters, and a deep tunnel which leads to an underground water source.  Archaeologists have also found coins and inscriptions, and iron crosses.  Even more compelling is that this chapel is one of thirty ancient churches discovered in the area.  So while the evidence is circumstantial, one could easily argue that it predated the remains of the church above.
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The bible is a controversial document.  But stone and dirt and earth is difficult to dispute, and whether this cave was used just years after Christ was crucified, or even a century after the date it has been given, it is well outside of any contrived history.  Until this church, the earliest church dates from the third century, and if this all of this evidence proves the theory of the archaeologist, this would place a significant amount of weight upon the historicity of the biblical narrative.

Those who used this chapel as a haven of worship gathered to worship the Messiah for who he was, perhaps within a few years of watching him die.  This site, and their sacred place of worship, doesn’t prove our faith, but it does prove commonality, and a very rich heritage.  And that is powerful.

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Otherworld

July 7, 2008 at 4:48 pm (Church, Culture, Entertainment, Happiness, Opinions, Purpose, Theology, Worship)
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There is something that bothers me about the death of a movie theater.

The place for movies, in my hometown, was the Twin Cinemas.  When new movies were released on Fridays, we were frantic as our school bus passed the building on its way to our neighborhood, and we would peer out of the windows to see which of the newest releases were showing on the marquee.  

My first date was in that theater, watching an Indiana Jones adventure, with the girl I would marry.  That perfect night was completed at the adjacent Pizza Hut.  Movie and dinner.  For cheap.  In a small hometown.  It was big stuff.  But it died, as a theater, some thirteen years ago.  The building is now home to a furniture-rental business. 

That building, now, reminds me of a shoe box you keep in your closet, filled and stuffed with cards and memories.  It is the building of special things for me, but it will never recapture what I felt there.  And it does not help that the exterior of the building looks scarcely different from its days as a theater. 

It was also the place of my one of my earliest memories as a child.  The line on opening night, in 1978, for Superman:  The Movie was a very long line, easily a thirty minute wait.  I was four-years-old when we stood in that line, and I can still remember the anticipation of wondering if tickets would still be available for us.  The Twin Cinemas was the only theater for a scattering of small towns in northeast Arkansas, and opening nights for any movie were extravaganzas. 
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I was one of the last patrons of a local movie theater, walking out of one of the very last shows.  Muvico, in downtown Memphis, as of today, has closed its doors, and though it failed to remain successful, it was, to me, the dream of downtown.  And it was one of the most beautiful, and majestic theaters I have ever seen.  A toy train circled the theater, and with twenty-two screens, and 4,800 seats, it was bigger than life, and the main attraction of a downtown complex that meant to offer places to play, to eat, to shop, to relax, and to be entertained.

It only lived and breathed, as a theater, for seven years, though.  It became victim to its own clientele, and underestimated the amount of control needed to operate such a gleaming attraction in a famously “dangerous” city.  In less than two years, it was garnishing unfavorable reviews in The Commercial Appeal, the Memphis newspaper, which spotlighted its less-than-fervent commitment to keep various behavior problems under control.  And the beauty and majesty of this theater was tainted, and never seemed to recover.  But it was not the fault of the building.  And, in spite of all of the negativity, it is still a place of great memories. 

Muvico is but one of a handful of theaters which fascinate me.  Here’s why.

I am, like most, inspired by the lofty ceilings of a movie theater, of its grand designs, and even, at times, swayed to buy concessions that cost way too much.  I enjoy all of this, more for the experience of being there, than watching the movie itself.  And that is probably where most of us are alike.  I would not call myself a connoisseur of films, for I do not know every trivial moment for every movie, or actor, or director.  What I do know, however, are personal experiences when watching various films.  I imagine most of you feel the same way. 

We walk away from bad movies, only to return to the same theater, and pay the outrageous ticket price, to watch another movie.  We do not walk into the theaters just to watch.  We go to be inspired – to walk into a place that takes us from the ordinary.  We watch images which are bigger than our eyes can hold.  We like the quiet anticipation in the darkened room, in the comfortable seats, amid whispers, and we feel a quickening of our pulse when the lights finally dim.  For me, that feeling has never entirely faded.

And it is that very reason that I am saddened by its closing.  That was a small place in a big world that provided a well-worn trail for people who are in desperate need of escape, and in desperate need to find something much bigger than their own lives.  We have transformed movie theaters into modern temples, places of worship of the otherworldly.  It is the church for people who both attend church, and those who do not.  It has a weekly attendance rate that is enviable, and a weekly offering that any church would love.  It is the place where people spend their money, their time, and their special occasions.  And though the fare is the pinnacle of secular worship and not always morally acceptable, it is hard to ingore the even and consistent theme of good, triumphant over evil.  It is difficult to ignore, then, the core and purpose of humanity, even in the most vile of movies.

The space which housed all of those screens will soon be transformed into what is believed to be a much more profitable enterprise.  And there are other theaters which serve similar purposes.  But none downtown.  None in the heart of a city in need of hope. 
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I did leave with some memorabilia, though, from Muvico.  I took some of our students last night to a double-feature.  And came home with a movie poster which hung in one of its frames. 

A poster for The Incredible Hulk.  The best movie of the summer.

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