Or, more specifically, who’s your spiritual provider?

(Truly funny; via TitusOneNine.)

Jaquandor has a new meme–old to him, apparently, but new to me: load your music library (in iTunes, in my case) shuffle it, and read off the first ten tracks. Well, why not? Here’s mine.

1. “Long White Cadillac”, The Blasters. Straight-ahead old-fashioned rock’n’roll from the punk/new wave scene.

2. “Boy From New York City”, The Manhattan Transfer. It rather shocks the me I used to be that I actually like this song.

3. “Man Machines”, Pete Townshend, from The Iron Man sound track. I like the album, but this isn’t the best song on it.

4. “Streets of Fire”, Bruce Springsteen, from Darkness on the Edge of Town. I’m afraid Springsteen doesn’t grab me the way he used to.

5. “Too Late To Cry”, The Stanley Brothers. Old-time Bluegrass.

6. “The Guns of the Magnificent Seven”, Boiled in Lead. An odd track by a very odd Celtic Folk band from (I believe) Southern California.

7. “Kalamazoo”, the Glenn Miller Orchestra, from In The Digital Mood. This album was recorded early in the digital era with all of Miller’s original band (except for Miller himself, of course). It’s a gem.

8. “Democratic Circus”, the Talking Heads, from Naked. If this one vanished, I don’t think I’d miss it.

9. “40”, U2, from War. I don’t think I’d miss this one either.

10. “Rio Grande”, Leonard Warren, from Lebendige Vergangenheit. Warren was an up-and-coming American opera singer around 1950 or so; he’d be much better known, I suspect, but he died young, which rather terminated his career. This is an unusual album–it’s Warren singing a variety of folk standards, American patriotic tunes, and Kipling poems set to music. I got it as a premium from our local public classical station, KUSC, and I’ve never regretted it.

Well, that’s an eclectic selection. I don’t know that it’s particularly representative of my tests in any other way, but it is suitably eclectic.

We all know how Galileo was persecuted by the Roman Catholic Church because his views contradicted the reigning biblical orthodoxy; ever since, he’s been the poster child for the “war” between science and religion.

Except that if you look into it, you find that Galileo wasn’t persecuted primarily for his scientific views but rather for his rude, contemptuous, and insulting treatment of powerful people who disagreed with him. There’s a lot more to the story than most people are aware of.

Now Amy Welborn points out an interesting sequel: it develops that the individual who initially proposed the theory that “the fossils and rock layers of the earth, if studied scientifically, gave a chronicle of the earth’s history at least as valid as the accepted version in the verses of Genesis,” one Nicolaus Steno, proposed his theory not that long after Galileo. Was he condemned by the Church? On the contrary, he wasn’t even criticized, and soon after became a priest, and then a bishop. In 1988, he was beatified by John Paul II.

That’s right–the basic theory on which modern geology (and hence paleontology, and hence much of evolutionary theory) is based was the product of an orthodox churchman.

Yowzah.

This is the latest in Hill’s long-running Dalziel/Pascoe series of police
procedurals, and it’s pretty well par for the course: twists, turns, odd
relationships, Andy Dalziel being coarse but effective and Peter Pascoe
being uptight and thorough. Hill always surprises, and this book is no
exception.

More I won’t say, mostly because I read this sufficiently long ago that
the plot is murky; suffice to say that Hill (almost) always does a good
job; if you like this sort of thing, you’ll like the book.

I’ve been trying to work my way through my shelves of unread books, and
one book on the shelf is Fool’s Errand, a book my brother
loaned me some while back. It’s the first in a trilogy; but that trilogy
is, taken all-in-all, a sequel to a previous trilogy which my brother
loaned me even longer ago. In order to have the background for
Fool’s Errand in mind, then, it seemed wise to re-read the
three books of the previous trilogy first; and then I could give all four
volumes back to my brother at our family Christmas gathering. That was
the plan, but in fact I was only part way through the third book in the
first trilogy, Assassin’s Quest, when Christmas rolled
around. Ah, well; I’ve since finished it, and here’s what I think this
time.

The three books listed above tell the first part of the story of
FitzChivalry Farseer, the bastard son of a prince of the kingdom of the
Six Duchies. Acknowledged by his father, who promptly abdicates in
embarassment at having sired a bastard, he is given a place by his
grandfather, King Shrewd. Shrewd makes a deal with the young boy: he
will provide FitzChivalry with food, clothing, training, and a life of
relative comfort; in return, FitzChivalry will pledge his complete
loyalty and discretion. And then begins his training as King Shrewd’s
back-up assassin.

It’s a time of troubles for the Six Duchies; red ships from the Out Islands
have begun raiding the coastal regions in earnest. Out Island raiders
are not uncommon–the ruling Farseer line was founded by a successful
raider–but now there’s a difference. The raiders are not carrying off
goods or slaves. Instead they are destroying entire villages. Those
they do not kill are carried away and held for a very unusual kind of
ransom. If the ransom is paid, the captives are killed. Otherwise, the
captives are returned to their devastated homes–returned, alive and
physically unharmed, but with all humanity stripped from them. The
Forged, as they come to be known, are rather like locusts, eating
anything that comes to hand with no thought for the morrow, and killing
anyone who has anything they might want. The Forged must be put down, and
a lot of that work goes to the unfortunate Fitz.

That’s just the beginning. There’s a lot to like in these books: magic
(two distinct kinds),
intrigue, interesting good guys, horrendously evil bad guys, a touch of
mystery, and even a somewhat happy ending. There’s a certain amount to
dislike, as well. Fitz goes through so much, and so much that’s awful,
that reading about it can be an ordeal. Also, I think the books are
rather longer than was really necessary, and would benefit from some
judicious trimming.

I liked them better this time than the first time, though. I read them
more slowly, which helped, and though I’d forgotten most of the details
I had a vague notion of where the plot was going, and that helped too.

I can’t recommend these unequivocally; but on the other hand, I stopped at
a bookstore yesterday and picked up some more of Hobb’s books. So I guess
I can recommend them equivocally.

The January Issue of
Ex Libris Reviews is now on-line.

My cold is showing signs of easing up today, finally, possibly thanks to the antibiotics I got on Saturday, though I slept poorly and consequently still feel lousy. Possibly I’ll actually be able to go in to work tomorrow…though the way this cold is going, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it gets worse today.

Jane’s feeling cold, tired, and grouchy this morning–her words. But the antibiotics are helping with her pneumonia, as is the asthma medication she got yesterday; apparently the pneumonia triggered a serious asthma attack.

So there appear to be moderate grounds for rejoicing.

The Rose Parade starts in about seven minutes, at 8 AM PST. Historically, it has almost never rained on the Rose Parade; if I recall correctly, the last time was back in the 1930’s. It’s come close on occasion, though–I remember one New Year’s Day back around 1980 or so when I spent the night on the parade route with friends, and it rained all night long and stopped just in time for the parade.

Today, though, it’s still pouring here at our house–about fifteen minutes’ drive from the beginning of the Rose Parade route–and according to Weather.Com it’s liable to continue all day.

As it happens, this is the first year ever that I won’t be watching the Rose Parade; we disconnected our TV last spring. So if it rains on the parade, as it appears that it will, now you know who to blame.

Update: The last time it rained on the parade was 1955. A bit of trivia: in 1955, the Grand Marshall of the Rose Parade was Supreme Court Justice Earl Warren. This year it’s Sandra Day O’Connor. Consequently, I can no longer take credit for the weather–it’s clearly the Supreme Court’s fault.

Jane saw the doctor yesterday; turns out her cold has developed into pneumonia. The doctor prescribed antibiotics, Robitussin, and plenty of rest; it’s the latter that’s going to be difficult.

Prayers requested. Thanks.

I’ve been working pretty hard over the last year, and so I planned to take some time off this week. I get the Monday and the Friday as paid holidays anyway, and so I scheduled to take three days of vacation. We were going to visit friends and family, go to the park, play games, and all sorts of things. Instead, just after dinner on Christmas Eve I came down with a nasty chest cold, which I still have this morning. Jane’s no better; she’s had the same cold for at least a week and a half, and she’s been pushing to do all of the seasonal Mommy things as well. So we’ve been doing the bare minimum.

In my case, that has meant doing some desultory reading and playing endless hours of video games. “What!” you say, “You’ve been playing video games and leaving your sick wife to look after the kids?” Well, no. The three older kids like to watch me play, which by happy coincidence means that they leave Jane alone. Mary, our youngest, has been making up for that, though. She’s not been feeling well either, and she’s going through a stage where only Mommy can make her feel better.

There are really only two upsides to all of this: first, I didn’t come down with this monster until after the Christmas Eve service, so our music director wasn’t short a singer; and second, I’d already planned to be off work this week so it isn’t going to affect my project’s schedule.

Well, OK, three–I’m spending a lot of time with my kids. But I planned to do that anyway, and it would have been much more fun if we all felt better.

Update: Make that four upsides. Over the last five or six years we’ve had guests come to stay with us between Christmas and New Years more often than not; this year, we didn’t. God is good.