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A post-Easter reflection

"Since our world conditions have changed, we can do no other than to think our own thoughts about the redemptive significance of the death of Jesus and all that is connected with it, basing our thoughts, so far as possible, on the original and Primitive-Christian doctrine.  But if we undertake this task, as we needs must, we ought to make clear to ourselves what we are doing.  We ought not to bemuse ourselves with the belief that we are simply taking over the whole of the dogmatic conceptions of Jesus and of Primitive Christianity, seeing that this is, in fact, impossible.  And we ought not to regard the obscurities and contradictions, in which we find ourselves involved, as originally attaching to Christian doctrine; we ought to be clearly conscious that they arise from the transformation of the historical and Primitive-Christian concepts into concepts necessary to adapt them to a later situation.  Instead of simply being able to take over traditional material as we...
Recent posts

Andrew's Brain: Final Reckoning

  I begin by repeating my spoiler alert from last week. This concerns the final chapters of an E.L. Doctorow novel published in 2014, the last one he published (he died the following year). IF YOU WANT TO COME TO IT FRESH, YOU WILL NOT WANT THE REVELATIONS I AM ABOUT TO MAKE!  Anyone still here?  Okay, then.  Andrew's time as a teacher at a DC high school is brief. He soon, accidentally, and in a manner I won't relate, comes to the attention of President George W. Bush.  We learn only at this point that the two knew each other -- indeed, they had been roommates at Yale as undergrads.  They had both been involved in what seem like typical frat-boy hijinks, and in at least one such instance Andrew had taken the blame to help keep the Bush family crest clean re one such hijink, involving a Bunsen burner in a Yale lab. Someone in the Bush staff gets nervous that someone like that -- someone who could tell such tales to the press corps -- is in DC. So they press...

Serta: from a mattress to standard-form contract language

  It was a big splash when news of the bankruptcy filing broke. Serta, of course, is a well-known mattress company, around since 1931.  [Not a year full of economic optimism -- it must have taken some contrarian gumption to start it then.] Whatever mattress you use at home, dear reader, you have almost certainy slept on a Serta if you have spent a night at a Hilton or Wyndham.  Anyway, back in 2020 the company was in trouble, and it executed what became a very controversial transaction to lessen its total debt burden It is called an uptier deal, because it allowed certain favored creditors to move up on the capital stack, to end up that I which positions more senior than they had before. The creditors who had been excluded from this deal cried bloody heck.   They had reason to be worried. The creativity that deal showed did not in fact rescue the company from its woes and in early 2023 it filed for bankruptcy court protection.  A lot else has happened in the thr...

Death notice

Steven Louis Reynolds passed away last month, (March 21) in Salt Lake City, of complications related to Parkinson’s disease.  His fine 2017 book, Knowledge as Acceptable Testimony  took a social view of what we mean by knowledge.  Sorry, Descartes, but someone sitting at a desk alone determined to figure out whether he knows anything has already lost the battle. Knowledge only has meaning and 'knowledge' only has meaning within a world populated by other people in which such affiliated ideas as 'acceptable testimony' make sense. Reynolds received his PhD from UCLA and he spent more than three decades teaching philosophy at Arizona State University. I did a search of his name looking for photos.  I persistently got one of him standing in a cave, which accordingly I have used. Was he a spelunker on his spare time or was he making a sly point about Platonism?  Either way: rest in peace, professor.

Andrew's Brain IV

Spoiler alert! If you have never read this book and hope someday to do so, and hope to be surprised by plot turns, I have to warn you that this post will give one big one away.  Still here, anybody?  All right. In our earlier posts I made clear that in the opening scene, Andrew's beloved second wife Briony is dead.  Andrew thrusts his infant by Briony upon his first wife, Martha.  There is no explanation of the reason for her death, and while reading the middle of the book about their courtship and life together the easiest assumption is that she was going to die in childbirth. She didn't.  Briony gave birth and there was a cozy household of three for a time. But she died soon thereafter in the collapse of the Twin Towers in the financial district of New York City on September 11, 2001. That struck me as quite a twist in a story that until then had been vague about chronology. Hence the spoiler warning above. It was over the following two months that Andrew make...

Andrew's Brain III

  We return to Andrew and Briony.  There is a bit in chapter three in which Andrew is describing to his therapist a road trip: our two young lovers drive from southern California to New York City, taking turns at the wheel.   For the final stretch, beginning in Atlanta, the one not at the wheel was reading out loud. From Mark Twain, whom Andrew refers to, familiarly as MT.  The book of MT's that enlivened those hours and days of driving?  The therapist guesses Huckleberry Finn.  Andrew corrects him. The book was The Prince and the Pauper.  And he puts what I take it is a Doctorow-esque gloss on this book: The two boys exchange identities, the prince is the pauper and the pauper is the prince. Briony liked the romance of that, Clemens saying there's nothing to royalty but the assumption. But it's more than a democratic parable: it's a tale for brain scientists. Given the inspiration, anyone can step into an identity because the brain is deft, it c...

Slow animals crossing

Once, many years ago, when I was working in a junk-mail mill, I got some joy out of a simple sign just about a mile away from the site of this employment. The sign, on a smallish road, warned drivers that racoons and other small critters were crossing thereabouts, so it would be wise to proceed with caution. Or, at least, that is what I imagine was the point of posting the sign. It said simply, "Slow animals crossing". I found it joyful because I would always say to myself while passing, "Gee, I guess the smarter animals cross a little further down the road."  I guess we're supposed to imagine a punctuation point after the word "slow" to foreclose such an interpretation.