Author: Mark Alexander

Posted on

Let us account for all we see by the facts we know. If there are things for which we cannot account, let us wait for light. To account for anything by supernatural agencies is, in fact to say that we do not know. Theology is not what we know about God, but what we do not know about Nature.

In order to increase our respect for the Bible, it became necessary for the priests to exalt and extol that book, and at the same time to decry and belittle the reasoning powers of man. The whole power of the pulpit has been used for hundreds of years to destroy the confidence of man in himself—to induce him to distrust his own powers of thought, to believe that he was wholly unable to decide any question for himself, and that all human virtue consists in faith and obedience. The church has said, ‘Believe, and obey! If you reason, you will become an unbeliever, and unbelievers will be lost. If you disobey, you will do so through vain pride and curiosity, and will, like Adam and Eve, be thrust from Paradise forever!’

For my part, I care nothing for what the church says, except in so far as it accords with my reason; and the Bible is nothing to me, only in so far as it agrees with what I think or know.”

~ Robert G. Ingersoll, Some Mistakes of Moses

Posted on

As the Thanksgiving Holiday Winds Down…

I can’t help but pass on what Dave wrote, as it so succinctly mirrors my own feelings:

I have a great deal to be thankful for.

And yet… it’s tough to find a way to appreciate it in the middle of a pandemic where there are still people who are fucking things up and dragging everything out. It seriously feels like COVID is never going to end. The virus continues to mutate, and the anti-vax/anti-mask brigade doesn’t seem to give a shit. Despite the fact that they are twenty times more likely to die if they contract COVID when compared to those who are vaccinated.

Oh well. All I can do is attempt to remain careful and try not to die from being one of the few breakthrough cases that happen. What else is there?

Posted on

One Year

It’s been a year since our former landlord—through his own incompetence—burned us out of the home we had lived in since returning from Denver in 2015.

And while today isn’t the actual date of the fire, its anniversary will forever be tied to the Sunday after Thanksgiving, regardless of the number on the calendar.

A few weeks ago, acknowledging that the pall of that tragedy was still hanging over my head and robbing me of what little joy this year has afforded, I decided it was time to just let it go.

Let. It. Go. Move on. I was tired of allowing it such power over me.

“Fuck James,” still rolls off my lips when confronted with a reminder of what happened (we’re still discovering little things missing or that need to be replaced), but not nearly as frequently as it had been.

As I may have mentioned, Ben and I had been talking about moving prior to the fire. There were several things about the house that annoyed both both of us no end, but in the end it was home and perhaps even more than that, the one thing that kept us there was the very reasonable rent ($1300 for a three bedroom house), and the fact that neither one of us could stomach the thought of packing everything up and moving.

As is often the case, the Universe picked up on that and literally lit a fire under our asses.

Our new place has its share of annoyances, and our landlord is a far cry from our previous on the sociability index, but we’ve finally settled in and think of it as home.

I’d be lying if I said there weren’t any scars remaining from a year ago. I still haven’t put the aquarium back up, and frankly I may just write off that entire hobby at this point. Last night, thinking back over the number of fish that I—through my incompetence—sent to an early grave over the years still sickens me when I think about it. After 35 years of having an aquarium of one size or another in the bedroom, I miss the quiet gurgling of the air pump at night but I do not miss cleaning the damn things.