“Preach the Gospel at all times. When necessary, use words."
--attributed to St. Francis of Assisi

The other day, Fred Clark of slacktivist put up a post entitled Trumpism IS white evangelical witness, the whole of it. Slacktivist generally writes about white evangelical Christianity. Read the article -- we'll touch on it.

I grew up attending an evangelical church. Having a witness was important. It was the fundamental foundation of who we are as Christians, rooted in our conversion and transformation in the Holy Spirit when we confess our sins to Christ. When we go forth to convert others -- spread the word of the Lord -- a central part of the, well, sales pitch is what this transformation has done to us.

Unfortunately, despite the quote attributed to St. Francis, most Christians I knew -- and I'm not going to exempt myself when I was part of that subculture -- tended to use a whole lot of words in explaining our witness, our transformation in the Holy Spirit. Why would we need so many words? Maybe we needed all of them because that transformation wasn't obvious in other aspects of our being.

Look, I know Christians aren't perfect. It's taken me a lot of time to realize that people are imperfect. Since Christians are people and not aliens from Saturn, they, by simple logic, must be imperfect as well. It's an impossible standard to hold Christians to perfection -- they say it themselves, they're sinners. But shouldn't we hold them to a higher standard? Shouldn't we expect them to follow Matthew 7:12 [1] (The Golden Rule) and Matthew 22:37-40 [2] / Mark 12:30-31 [3] / Luke 10:25-28 [4] (The Great Commandments).

(An aside: You think that last one might be important given that it's brought up in three of the four gospels?)

I think, therefore, that something should change in Christians -- their kindness and generosity towards their fellow man should shine through them. They should become pro-life, not in the narrow sense of the term that applies merely to the unborn, but for all of us poor sinners walking this cruel old world. Wasn't Jesus the one who brought an end to the law of 'an eye for an eye'? Wasn't he the one who commanded his followers to turn the other cheek? It should be like the Christian hymn "We Will Know They Are Christians By Their Love". It should be obvious.

This brings us back to Fred Clark's post. There was a lot of hullabaloo in white evangelical circles over Donald Trump in 2016 and how, to put this delicately, his imperfections would affect their witness. I mean, here's a man who's broken most, if not all, of the ten commandments. Of all the Republicans on offer in 2016, he's the last man I'd have picked to represent my community if I were still in it.

But when he was elected by the help of the evangelical community, I heard all the excuses. He's a Cyrus. He converted on the campaign trail, so you have to give him some slack because he's a baby Christian. Besides, don't we need to make America great again?

Then we had four years. Four years of lie after lie, of a man attempting to force reality to his will. A man who sent away the desperate -- and worse, stole their children from them for simply attempting to make their way to what they hoped was a better life. A man who, while ripping children from their parents, forced those lonely and temporarily orphaned children to sleep on cold concrete floors in cages. A man who said there were very fine people on both sides, when one side had been caught on tape shouting "Jews will not replace us!" the weekend before. A man who bore false witness against his neighbor, spitting smear after smear of anybody who would dare oppose him or make him look bad. A man who insists he must be at the center of attention at all times -- to the point of tweeting policy decisions at six AM without saying anything to his advisors beforehand.

A man who, as of this writing, has presided over the deaths of 234,000 people -- more than two of my hometowns! -- to a virus that could have been managed and mitigated to a point where more than half of those people didn't have to die. Why? It has been a mix of incompetence and malice. There were early resource battles in which the federal government forced the states into a free-for-all in an attempt to obtain desperately needed supplies. There was the President fretting so much about "making the numbers look bad" and "slow the testing down please" that there never was a robust test-and-trace effort -- thus we never suppressed the virus to a point where we could safely reopen the economy. (Then we opened the economy despite it.) There was discouragement of mask-wearing when the science became clear that even cloth masks could cut down on the spread of this virus. There was a deliberate effort to hold events that would attract lots of people and the virus could be spread easily. There was a tendency to shove aside the experts in disease control and epidemiology for people who would tell the President what he wanted to hear. There has never been a word spoken by the President in memory or sorrow of what we've lost. Last and most dangerously, there has been the decision to simply throw up the administration's collective hands and declare that the country is going to try to burn the virus through the population the hard way -- a decision that will likely condemn a million Americans to their grave and millions more to permanent disability.

Now, as we wait, balanced on a needle, we find that so many Americans have decided that all of the above is acceptable and perhaps even desirable. Maybe it's because they're getting the pro-life in the narrow sense judges. Maybe it's the absolute (and literal, in some cases) demonization of the other party. Maybe it's the chance to stick the shiv in those who are not like them. Or maybe it's simply because power is seductive and riding the high is always easier than admitting there's a problem.

But there are those not in the evangelical bubble. I'm one of those folks outside that bubble, and I will probably be ignored as not one of the tribe anymore. But I still want to speak to them and to tell them this. I see you practically in thrall to the President. I see that he seems to be more important than Jesus to you. I see the delight you get in 'owning the libs' and I see your cruelty disguised as piety. I see your attempts to force your beliefs on the rest of us out of a misguided sense of persecution. And most importantly, I see how you have gained the worldly power you wanted, but you don't seem to realize that it's been at the cost of your soul.

I've heard your witness. St. Francis was right. You don't need to say a word.

--
[1]"Therefore, whatever you want men to do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets." (NKJV) ^BACK

[2] "Jesus said to him, ''You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.' This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like it: 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.' On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets.” (NKJV) ^BACK

[3] "'And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength.' This is the first commandment. And the second, like it, is this: 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no other commandment greater than these.”(NKJV) ^BACK

[4] "And behold, a certain lawyer stood up and tested Him, saying, 'Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?' He said to him, 'What is written in the law? What is your reading of it?' So he answered and said, ' 'You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength, and with all your mind,' and 'your neighbor as yourself.' ' And He said to him, 'You have answered rightly; do this and you will live.' (NKJV) ^BACK [5]

[5] The Luke variant responds with the questioner being a smart-ass and asking 'Who is my neighbor?" and Jesus responding with the Parable of the Good Samaritan. In the future, I'm going to examine this story because it's not what people think it is.^BACK

The pun wars raged behind me. The war was horrific; the puns stank to high heaven. That’s what happens when one of the Guests of Honor at your convention is Spider Robinson and as part of the tribute, Worldcon had set up a working Callahan’s Bar, including hosting some of the events in the books. That’s why there was a pun war. Why did I care? Because the Fanzine Lounge was technically located at the back of Callahan’s Bar.

To be honest, most of the puns were difficult to hear because the sound was rather muddy and muted in our corner, but that was okay. I saw Murray Moore, and there was a moment where we had to remind each other what cons we’d seen each other at before — the San Jose Corflu and the Reno Worldcon to be specific. Murray’s a great guy — he’s always so calm and thoughtful. I always like seeing him.

Shortly thereafter, it also gave me a chance to catch up with John Coxon, who I hadn’t seen since he was the TAFF delegate running around the Worldcon in Reno. We talked about the fact that he’d spent some time in Berkeley and now understood what the script Cal on my ball cap stood for and a bit about the fact that he was going to be in the masquerade that evening. Then there was some laughing remembrance of the day Chris Garcia, James Bacon, and John Coxon dropped by Sacramento on their way to Reno. I left work to meet them for lunch and we all went to an all-you-can-eat pizza place tucked into an obscure corner of Old Sacramento. It’s fun to talk about good memories. A friend of John’s asked him if the pizza was any good, and John basically said, “How should I know? I was hanging out with friends! And it was all-you-can-eat pizza!”

Ah, but the hour approached, and if I was going to catch Kirsten the way I caught Doug, I needed to hoof my way over to panel-land and wait. While I was waiting, I noticed the folks handing out copies of Amazing!, and I noticed that one of them was Steve Davidson. I’ve only known Steve online, but when I was a little more active with my fan writing, he has been supportive of my efforts. It was good to finally meet him in person.

Then I took up my position in front of the door, waiting for the panel to let out, and trying not to lose my place as the hallway became alive with particles bouncing in all sorts of random directions. Most of them stayed in general paths down the center of the room, but it seemed as if many of these particles were getting trapped in accumulations around doors, almost as if the doors themselves were clogged drains. Then, suddenly, there was a burst, and the drain unclogged, and two different flows tried to push against each other! Then, there was me, a still particle in a wild chaos of motion, a spot of calm in the dance…and then my quarry appeared.

After that, I joined the flow as well, with another friend who was happy to see me. Kirsten and I spent some time catching up, and then she said, “I could use a donut.” I paused, and then I said, “That sounds like an excellent plan.”

Folks, these were not ordinary donuts. There’s a few places around the country that make, for lack of a better term, gourmet donuts. The most famous of these places is probably Voodoo Donuts in Portland, OR, but San Jose has Psycho Donuts, and they had set up a table at Worldcon. I never passed by this table without seeing at least a bit of a line. The line was oh so worth it, though, as suddenly, you were confronted by all these amazing donuts — donuts with cereal as a topping, donuts of banana and caramel, donuts with actual strawberries as a topping — all sorts of amazing things.

After a quick perusal, I picked one with a spaceship on the top and a fruit filling for the science fiction part of Worldcon (a Nebula something, I don’t remember), and an amazingly crazy blue frosted donut covered with sparkles and stars and sprinkles and balls of sugar, and another crazy squirt of bright blue line frosting. This wonderful creation was called “Unicorn Farts”, and it stood up to its name in every fashion.

Kirsten has to head off to a convention office — this is the trouble with catching up with Bay Area friends at a Bay Area Worldcon, a lot of them are on staff — so I wandered back to the fanzine lounge to see who I could find there. There’s always somebody interesting there, and if there isn’t, there’s always somebody shortly. I pulled out my donuts to enjoy them and to watch the convention pass by. I’m fond of people-watching and eventually, people will gravitate towards a table where somebody is sitting. That’s sometimes how I’ve gotten into my best conversations at conventions.

This time was no exception. Ranger Craig got some time to sit down and enjoy the fanzine lounge and tell us some great tales. I won’t repeat them here, because they’re his stories to tell, but he’s a great storyteller. I spoke with James Bacon for a moment as he came to drop off a book for the fan fund auction, and I wished him well for his convention next year but told him it’s doubtful I’ll make it. I’ve been inactive in fandom and I don’t feel like I’m in a stable enough place in my life to mount a TAFF bid for next year. That’s about the only way I’m going to make it, bar winning the lottery.

Shortly, Schirm brought something interesting to the table — a portable crank phonograph from the 1920s. Along with it, he had several records, one dating to the time where, in order to record, the singers had to sing into a horn as there were no microphones. He also had several early jazz records, and some other novelty records. It was amazing that this machine, nearly a hundred years old, produced such amazing quality sound with no speaker, no batteries, and no power cord. It had just a crank, a needle, and a case that provided the resonance for us to hear it.

Things like Schirm’s wonderful phonograph are things one wouldn’t necessarily think of as belonging to science fiction and fantasy fandom, but in many ways it is. Not only is it a device that was futuristic for its time, it was retro-futuristic for the fans sitting around that table. Besides that, sometimes fandom is simply fans sharing their passions with one another — just like fanzines could talk about jazz and sports cars and still be fannish.

A friend of mine that I know through local writing circles, Richard Crawford, came up to the table while Schirm was playing the records. It was nice to say hi to him at Worldcon, and I’m glad he was able to enjoy his beer with some music. We didn’t get to talk much, but that was okay. Richard’s a local friend and we’ll get together at some point.

Halfway through the music, I realized that I had one other errand that I needed to run. Another local friend of mine, Michael Gallowglas — who writes under the name M. Todd, and you should buy all his books — just became a wizard, err, a master of fine arts in the field of creative writing, and this was my first chance to congratulate him instead of waiting until November. (I know a lot of my local friends because of NaNoWriMo…) I wandered back over to the dealer’s room to Michael’s table and gave him the congratulations he so heartily deserved. I would have stayed there and talked to him a bit longer, but he was doing paying work, so I just told him I’d see him in November.

I have so many amazing and wonderful friends. Sometimes it takes a convention to see all of them and remind myself of that fact.

Not done yet! I think I can finish it up in a fifth part. See you there!

Series:
Worldcon (Part the First)
Worldcon (Part the Second)
Worldcon (Part the Third)
Worldcon (Part the Fourth)

Mirrored from katster's closet.

There is such a thing as tears of joy.

I don’t even know where to start about yesterday except that it was the first time that I have felt truly happy in a long time. It’s been a couple years of exceptionally hard times for my family and I, a condition that has practically stolen my words from me except for passing thoughts on Facebook. I’m still not sure I want to talk about everything that’s been going on in a public forum, but it’s still rather rough.

As of Monday of last week, I wasn’t going to Worldcon. This had led me into a bad funk because I had been battling all the above bad times and the last few sparks of possibility that I might be able to go had been extinguished. I was even more frustrated because this year’s Worldcon was being held in San Jose. When you live in the Sacramento area, that’s just about in your backyard by Worldcon standards. A lot of my friends in both Bay Area and fanzine fandom would be there. Not being able to go was one of those things that stung deeply — yet another reminder of just how hard the times had gotten.

Then, Monday night, I was chatting with a friend who mentioned that another friend was going to Worldcon. That’s when I told her that I wasn’t able to go. She asked me why I wasn’t, and I said that it was money — that even going for a day would involve paying for gas, food, and parking. That was basically money I didn’t have.

That’s when she asked me if I would accept the money to pay for those things and allow me to go for a day. And I said yes. Lira, I cannot thank you enough for this gift, this joy, that has me sitting her at my keyboard crying so hard with joy and happiness. I didn’t realize just how much I needed this.

Saturday, the eighteenth of August, dawned early. The alarm went off at four-thirty in the morning. I was basically dressed and ready by five, but I wanted to write a short fanzine for the WOOF distribution at Worldcon. I don’t recall what the acronym stands for, but it’s a one-off collection of fanzines put out at Worldcon. My specific contribution will probably go on efanzines later, to join my contribution to the Reno Worldcon WOOF, but I want to let the distribution be out for a little bit before then. That was done by six, and I put my laptop in my backpack, put my bags in the car, and began the trip to San Jose.

There were a couple stops along the way — washing my car before I got on the freeway, Vacaville (yes, Cowtown, it amuses me every time) for gas and snacks, Concord to copy my zine — but I was in San Jose by nine-thirty, which, considering that I was taking my time and enjoying the trip. There was an unusual moment where a truck had managed to take out a stretch of guardrail, but other than that, it was smooth sailing.

Of course, I’ve never actually been in downtown San Jose. I should have just asked Google to give me directions from my parking spot to the convention center, but I didn’t, and confidently began walking in the wrong direction. All was not lost, though. I discovered a new feature on Google — if you ask it “Where am I?”, it’ll pop up a map with your location. With that, I was able to reorient myself and walk back to the convention center. A fellow fan gave me directions to registration and I was off.

After a couple false starts — I was waiting patiently in line for a registration clerk to finish with somebody and a couple people walked in front of me and went to an open slot before I could — I was able to get my badge and all was official. I was here, and unlike 2008, I had not hit anybody with my backpack, especially not John Scalzi. (Yes, that really happened.)

Once I set up my badge and bought my t-shirt, as I’ve done every Worldcon, I wandered off to the business meeting. I mainly went because I know that if there’s anywhere at the convention I’m going to find Kevin Standlee, it’s at the business meeting. I was about an hour late, so most of the business of the day had been completed. It’s not always my type of fandom, but everybody’s welcome to their particular fun. That’s part of the awesomeness of fan culture. You like business meeting fandom, I like fanzine fandom, he likes costuming fandom, she wants to be a science fiction writer, they are a gamer, zie likes science fiction movies. But at heart, we’re all fans, all geeking out together.

It was good to catch up with both Kevin and Lisa (Kevin’s wife), but also Rick Moen. I’ve known Rick since I was an undergraduate at Berkeley, when he would show up to some of the gatherings of the UC Berkeley Linux Users Group (LUG). It’s always fun when people you meet in one world end up crossing into another world, and finding Rick in fandom at what was technically my first Baycon was a treat.

After the business meeting, it was off to the fanzine lounge, where I ran into the one, the only, the larger than life, the amazing Christopher J. Garcia. Chris is the reason that I’m in fanzine fandom in the first place. While my first Baycon was technically 2003 or 2004, when I came for a night, the one I count as my first Baycon was 2007. I spent a lot of time wandering the halls seeing everything there was to see, and I repeatedly passed by a room labeled ‘Fanzine Lounge’. I didn’t go in. But I did google ‘fanzine’ and discovered efanzines.com. There I discovered a fandom that I felt was right up my alley.

Chris was running around like a madman — well, more than usual — because he was going to be hosting the masquerade that night. He would, of course, do an excellent job, but I’m getting ahead of myself here. That said, he was able to take a few moments to say hi. And just like everybody else, he was so happy to see me. This was something that would continue throughout the day, which just added to my happiness.

Wow — this has already gotten long, and I’ve still got more to say. Time for another post.

Series:
Worldcon (Part the First)
Worldcon (Part the Second)
Worldcon (Part the Third)
Worldcon (Part the Fourth)

Mirrored from katster's closet.

• Black & White 1: My Buddy


• Black & White 2: It's What's for Dinner

• B&W 1: My buddy.

No, that’s not a statement on my life at the moment, or a statement of my interest in the fabric arts.

It’s actually about a neat little game I’ve been playing called Unravel. It’s available for Windows, Playstation 4, and Xbox One. This has been a game I’ve wanted to get since it first came out in 2015, but I caught it on sale for five dollars and pulled the trigger.

I’m glad I did. The premise of the game is about memories — in the opening cut scene, you’re introduced to a grandmother who is straightening pictures of her grandkids and sighing. It’s obvious they don’t come around much anymore. I’m not entirely sure why — if they’re grown up, or if it’s something sadder. But a red ball of yarn rolls out and from that we meet the character we play.

It’s amazing how simple the mechanic of a little yarn guy (called Yarnie) unravelling himself to get through the various worlds. He can use his yarn as a lasso, or as a way to climb back up into spots. He can tie knots to various posts, and can use them to make a bridge so he can jump higher or transport objects. To get more yarn, he crosses through spools, which serve as the checkpoints of the game.

But I think what amazes me most is simply the background and interactive graphics. Here, let me show you some of the screenshots I’ve collected.( Pictures under here )