Today lacking any specific subject to write on, I decided to just take the day in stride and expand on my thoughts about the small events that help make up my day.
First thing after I get up, I watch a video that someone has put on my facebook feed about the so-called humorist Bill Mahar interviewing Congressman Dan Crenshaw, a former Navy Seal.
I don't like to get into arguments about politics on Facebook. I normally don't. If someone puts something I find politically distasteful, I hide the post because I would rather keep a friend than win an argument. I have never liked Bill Mahar, however, finding him extremely smug and totally unqualified for the position that HBO has placed him in. In addition, I've never considered him to have ever ventured within a hundred miles of a sense of humor.
He became famous for making the movie Religulous which poked fun at religion. He was extremely happy with himself for having done so, and I guess kind of fancied himself as a comedic version of Richard Dawkins or Christopher Hitchens. In my book, it marked him as something of a dumbass bully. What he did was like gloating for beating up an old lady in a wheelchair, or stealing a first grader's candy.
What he failed to realize was if you think that are proving the failure of theological thinking by attacking the foibles of human beings, you are essentially acting like a spoiled kid with daddy issues. You are no Martin Luther just because you can point out some people take belief to some ridiculous extremes. Now, if you could expound on why Descartes and Newton were foolish enough to believe in God even as they laid the groundwork for modern science, maybe you would have done something to gloat about. Pointing out that snake handlers are a little strange, not so much.
Mahar's normal modus operandi is to stack the panels on his show heavily in his favor, and to pass out knives and stake down the sacrificial goat right in the middle of them. His audience reminds me of the crowd at a medieval witch burning where a jester warming up audience would up a sign that said, "Laugh-This could be you!" In other words, The View with a slightly more intelligent audience and without all the annoying cackling.
This particular video was interesting because it was one-on-one, a socially distanced interview, where Mahar was without all of his snickering toadies. From the first question, you could tell that he knew he should have slipped Crenshaw a barbiturate or two. After the second question, you could smell his fear. After the third, Mahar tried his typical ruse of distraction and diversion to no great effect. The one-eyed man proved unflappable. There was no friendly bloodthirsty audience to help drown out Crenshaw's words, and finding himself all alone with a script written by third rate intellects, you just knew that Mahar wished that he had worn an extra large Corona mask his fear.
The second thing that caught my attention this morning were these two doves walking in the middle of my lane on a quiet neighborhood road in Hanford. I had gone to make a deposit in the bank.
I decided to bring my mom home some chicken from KFC ,and turned on a tree-lined side street to get over to the road that the restaurant was on. I was driving slowly when these two doves walked in front of me. They kind of strutted like they were daring me to hit them. They flew off, but I thought I could hear them laughing at me.
I thought to myself that the doves in Hanford are more than a little bit spoiled and rude to be acting that way. I also thought as I drove by them that there was a time when I was a lot meaner and ruder myself and would have been laughing while I looked back in my rearview mirror at couple of feathers floating slowly down to the ground like in a Roadrunner cartoon.
At the KFC drive-thru, there was a pretty girl working the window. I told her, "I can tell that you have a pretty smile even though your ar wearing a mask." I could too. Her eyes lit up and crinkled at the corners. Then I told her, "Now, I can tell that you're blushing." I could too. She was laughing as I drove away
I drove away feeling a little stupid at the sudden realization that it had taken me 67 years to discover that I had x-ray vision and wondering why it had taken a virus named after a beer to figure it out.