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Why is the Republican base so base that it abases itself before such a base creature?

John Jakes' death reminded of something.

Eons ago, after my first two or three sf novels were published, I was visiting my parents and my mother was complaining, as usual, that I was writing such books instead of the kind of novels she liked to read. I saw some fat Jakes historicals on a table and asked her about them. She raved about them. I told her that Jakes had started out writing lots of sf, s&s, etc. She was upset and clearly didn't believe me, or perhaps just didn't want to believe me. But at least she stopped complaining -- for a while -- about my not writing "you know, dear, novels."

Drumming for Jesus and Genocide

My mother was born in 1914 in a village in Lithuania. She emigrated to England as a teenager, in time to avoid the horrors that would be visited upon Lithuanian Jews not too many years later. Her mother and many other family members were not so lucky; they were still there in 1939 when World War Two began.

When the Nazis’ Endlösung der Judenfrage, Final Solution to the Jewish Question—i.e., the Holocaust—reached Lithuania along with the invading German troops, the locals, told by the Germans that they were free to murder their Jewish neighbors, responded with such enthusiasm that even some of the German officers were disturbed. To the locals, this wasn’t something new, and they had never needed anyone’s permission to slaughter Jews. Jews had lived in terror there for centuries.

Lithuanians, at least in those days, practiced the tradition of Easter drumming—loud, round–the–clock drumming from Easter Friday to Easter Sunday, to commemorate the Crucifixion and (or so my mother was told) to help awaken Jesus on the third day. By itself, this sounds simply annoying and silly. However, during those long hours, the local Christians, filled with grief for their dear Lord and anger against those they blamed for killing him, worked themselves into an even greater frenzy of antisemitism than usual. Sometimes, they acted on their fury. The Jews huddled in their houses, terrified, hoping that this Easter would pass without an outbreak of mass murder. Any Jew unfortunate enough to be caught outside had a good chance of meeting a violent death. My mother always remembered the ominous drums and the long weekend of fear.

I think about this every year when, even in this supposedly civilized and enlightened country, people post “He is risen!” on social media. I imagine the drums and the seething atmosphere of hatred and violence. To me, it’s all one and the same: Christianity equals murder.

“Oh, no!” some Christians will protest, resorting immediately to their own version of the “no true Scotsman” fallacy. “Those weren’t real Christians! Jesus preached love. Also, Hitler was an atheist, so there.”

No, Hitler was a Christian, and his life, far more than that of the mythical Jesus, shows us what Christianity has really been throughout its long and evil history. Of course there are good Christians, many of them extraordinarily good, but that is only to say that there are good people, many of them extraordinarily good, who are also Christians. They are good despite being Christians, not because of it.

Almost from its beginning, the church preached—indeed, commanded—murder: murder of pagans, murder of Christians of the wrong flavor, but most especially murder of Jews. Christians have always been happy to do as the church commanded, at least when it comes to murder. To be fair, calumnies against Jews and mass murder of Jews predate Christianity, but the church raised both to a new level and spread them throughout the world. The church also added a vicious twist to Jew hatred. It told the faithful that by hating and killing Jews, they were avenging the death of their Savior; they were being good Christians.

But what about all those sweet, goopy things the fictional character named Jesus is supposed to have said? Isn’t that the true nature of Christianity? No, the true nature of Christianity is what the great mass of Christians have been doing for thousands of years, which very much includes hating and murdering Jews. Words, however pretty, don’t matter at all when they are ignored. Words are nothing. Deeds are what count.

Those deeds, the centuries of ostracizing and killing, culminated in the Holocaust, the greatest pogrom of all, one carried out with twentieth–century technology and organized with German efficiency but also participated in by vast numbers of non–Germans using whatever tools, modern or primitive, they could find. We think of the Holocaust as something uniquely evil and apart from history, but that’s a mistake. It’s very much a part of history—European Christian history.

So it is that when billboards and social media posts proclaim “He is risen!” I see past the smug Christian moral posturing and self–congratulatory back–patting, the arrogance and sense of superiority posing as humility. I think of those bloody centuries and hear the primitive drumming and sense the bloodlust that is the foundation of it all.

I would love to see, but of course never will, a TV commercial for an ED remedy run on Easter Sunday showing a middleaged man lying in bed looking blissfully up at the ceiling with the voiceover "He is risen!"

I wonder if the character count of Regency romances is larger by now than the population of Regency England.

If I ever finish and publish the novel I've been working on, on and off, for 40 years, I think I'll try a new approach to publicizing it. I want to be up to date, so instead of urging people to buy my new book, I'll say something like, "You owe it to yourself to experience my new reading solution!"

On the Muskbird site, my bio includes the phrase "I tell lies for a living": a mild joke for a writer.

When I drag Trumpnazis there, over and over again they seize on that phrase as if it proves something about my calling out their bullshit. It's as if they have no idea what novelists do. These people are genuinely and aggressively stupid. That makes them more dangerous, not less, of course.

When I was a boy, I watched all kinds of science fiction the science in which would make me cringe now. (Not to mention writing, acting, special effects ... ) Bad science alone pulls me out of the story and annoys me now. But I sure did enjoy sf on the screen a lot more then. I miss that boyish purity of escape.

MTG's Great Divorce reminded me of an essay I wrote some years ago, also advocating such a divorce, but in a rather different manner.

dvorkin.com/essays/finalconq.h

The "National Day of Hate" seems to be a flop, at least so far, judging by what I can find online -- just warnings, no news items about actual deeds.

That's a relief, of course, but it's also encouraging. Perhaps it will turn out to be as laughable and mocked as the giant rallies and marches planned by the rightwing wackos that end up being a just a small bunch of pitiful loons.

If I were designing an interstellar ship with super-duper advanced technology, I would include lots of robotics, AI, redundant systems, and self-healing everything, there would be no dangling structures outside, and there would be a super-tough shell around the whole thing so that everything that could possibly ever require human attention would be safely reachable from inside.

A summary of American domestic policy: Jimmy Carter put solar panels on the White House. Ronald Reagan removed them.

If aliens are spying on us with gadgets that we can fairly easily detect and shoot down, then I'm very disappointed in aliens. I would expect much better from them.

Imagine if someone misunderstood Russell’s teapot as a revelation and founded the Church of the Teapot, with Russell as the messianic figure. It would be utterly laughable, of course, but perhaps their sacraments would include serving really good cups of tea. It could be a good place to drop in while out and about for a good cuppa. I’d have no problem saying “Praise Russell.”

Many cultures preach respect for the elders, by which they usually mean not just politeness but deference and even reverence. And who preaches this value to the young? Why, the elders, of course.

I dunno. I think there's something fishy about this story.

I hope the fish don't get together and scale up this activity. Or start buying more upscale items.

In Japan, pet fish playing Nintendo Switch run up bill on owner's credit card
cnn.com/2023/01/28/asia/ninten

... why the word "webinar" ...

I wish I could edit my toots. No matter how often I proofread before hitting the TOOT! button, I still miss errors.

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I don't know why the "webinar" annoys me so much, but it really, really does.

PBS Masterpiece has announced an upcoming adaptation of Tom Jones, which it describes as a "romcom". Oh, well. If that's what's required to draw an audience in these evil and declining days, then so be it.

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