A stressful weekend, involving lots of travel and personal insecurity. Everything went fine, except inside my head. Best wishes to the principals involved; they know who they are.



I heard about this on Michael Medved’s show this morning—our Ivy League-educated chief executive gave a speech at “the annual iftar dinner” at the White House, in which he put a little spin on the actual historical record.

“The first Muslim ambassador to the United States, from Tunisia, was hosted by President Jefferson, who arranged a sunset dinner for his guest because it was Ramadan — making it the first known iftar at the White House, more than 200 years ago.”

That presents a nice, cozy picture—cosmopolitan Tom Jefferson, out of his tremendous respect for Islam (did you know he owned a copy of the Koran?) hosted a special dinner in accordance with Islamic law, as a sign of respect for a Muslim ambassador.

Not quite the way it was. According to “The Iconoclast” at New English Review, the guy wasn’t an ambassador, but an envoy, in this country to shake us down for the ransoms of American sailors kidnapped by the Barbary pirates. Jefferson served him dinner after sundown because that was the only time the guy would eat. By all accounts he was an arrogant jerk who made no effort to understand us, and when he left nobody missed him.

Jefferson balked at paying tribute but accepted the expectation that the host government would cover all expenses for such an emissary. He arranged for Mellimelli and his 11 attendants to be housed at a Washington hotel, and rationalized that the sale of the four horses and other fine gifts sent by the bey of Tunis would cover costs. Mellimelli’s request for “concubines” as a part of his accommodations was left to Secretary of State James Madison.. Jefferson assured one senator that obtaining peace with the Barbary powers was important enough to “pass unnoticed the irregular conduct of their ministers.”

In less irritating news related to the Middle East, Joe Carter at First Things, in his weekly 33 Things post, links to these clips of a virtual model of Herod’s Temple in Jerusalem, a sight that would have been most familiar to the Lord and His disciples.

We’ve been told so many times that Jerusalem was an out-of-the-way outpost of the Roman empire, that we sometimes forget that Herod made his city a world-wide tourist attraction through the construction of a temple complex that was, in fact, one of the world’s wonders. The Roman government wasn’t entirely happy about it, either.

In response to tremendous public clamor, I shall share my views on the Cordoba Islamic Center near Ground Zero.

My views are kind of mixed, but mostly negative.

When I first heard about it, I thought, “What’s the big deal? It’s not directly on the 9/11 site. It’s just a mosque.”

But things I’ve been reading and hearing on the radio suggest that it’s not just a mosque, and that the very name is a statement of Islamic triumphalism.

I don’t know. I’m suspicious of conservative paranoia, but I’m also aware that symbolism is a very big deal with Muslims.

The thought that keeps recurring to me is, “We are told again and again, when dealing with the Islamic world, that it’s tremendously important to be sensitive to the feelings of Muslims.

“So how come that doesn’t work both ways? How come Muslims have no obligation to be sensitive to the feelings of 9/11 victims?” Continue reading Muezzin musings →

Haven’t got much tonight. My lawn mowing (the rainy summer has made our grass situation in Minnesota almost tropical) took longer than usual, and no insights illuminated my meditations as I mowed.

Here’s a piece from Gene Edward Veith’s Cranach blog, which links to a further article by Anne Applebaum about Tom Sawyer, and how what was recognized as normal boyhood behavior in Mark Twain’s time, is labeled a personality disorder and medicated in ours.

I mention this purely as a matter of justice, having no personal dog in the fight. I myself was a quiet and compliant child, the kind of kid Tom and Huck would have tied to a tree and then left to his own devices, laughing as they ran off.



About the only other thought I have is one concerning the same-sex marriage dispute.

The side that favors the redefinition of marriage constantly appeals (or this is my perception) to science. They have science and reason on their side, they insist, while traditional marriage defenders have nothing but tradition and fear.

But doesn’t it take a certain amount of plain faith to be completely certain that abandoning a cultural template which has been universal as far back in human history as we can look, will surely have no adverse effects whatever? Is that not also an assurance of things hoped for, a conviction of things not seen?

I’ve gone a little nuts in the last two days, and it bothers me a bit. I expect it’s a sign of oncoming dementia.

What I mean is, I spent money on two things that were not absolutely necessary for me to have, and which were not books.

First of all, I replaced my cell phone. I’ve had my old, bare-bones one for several years now, and had been thinking it was time to replace it. My service provider offered a very good deal on a new Nokia. It has a camera, which is cool, though I don’t think I actually have the technology to upload its pictures anywhere. (Remember, I’m paying 10 cents a minute for calls on this thing. How many pictures do I take that are worth a dime?)

Also, it’s got a flip cover. So at long last, I have a Captain Kirk phone. This is extremely satisfying to my inner Sheldon Cooper.

Also, I’ve registered for the Vinland Seminar in Chicago, in October. Because of my acquaintance with some of the organizers, and my long-distance acquaintance with one of the speakers, Prof. Torgrim Titlestad (who did me the honor of mentioning one of my books in a couple of his), I decided I ought to go. It will be an opportunity to rub shoulders with some experts in the field of Viking studies, in particular Prof. Birgitta Wallace, who used to be the chief archaeologist at the Leif Eriksson Dig in Newfoundland. She carries the eternal honor of finding the butternuts. And if you don’t know what that means, you should research it.

Also I have permission to hawk my books there, so maybe I can make back part of my expenses.

Next week, I’ll probably run off to Vegas and get married. I’ll keep you posted.

Here’s something I fully expect to see in my lifetime, in an editorial in some newspaper (if newspapers still exist by then):

There has been a lot of impassioned demagogery in recent days over the latest decision of the U.S. Ninth District Court of Appeals. It seems to me what’s needed here is less emotion and more reasoned analysis. Let’s look at the facts.

The reality is, in the more than two centuries since our Constitution was drafted, great changes have been made in the culture of the United States. The Founding Fathers, for all their reputed brilliance, weren’t a very diverse group. They were without exception products of northern European culture and the Christian religion, whatever their personal beliefs might have been. They shared certain prejudices (referred to in the Declaration of Independence, some years earlier, as “self-evident” truths) that had not been greatly tested in the parochial environment in which they lived their lives.

Since that time, America has been marvelously enriched by the entrance of millions of immigrants, many of whom have come from cultures and traditions very different from that of the West. Some of these minority groups have very different attitudes to matters of governance and justice than those traditional in our country.

If our new neighbors have no trust in democracy, but feel more comfortable with a hereditary monarch, who are we to insist our way is better?

If our new neighbors see no sense in our legal system (and let’s be honest, it’s hard not to sympathize), but prefer, let’s say, trial by ordeal, can we truly be sure our approach is superior?

If our new neighbors want to continue ancient traditions of arranged marriages, or human slavery, is it really appropriate for “native born Americans,” carrying as we do the immense burden of guilt arising from our shameful, imperialistic history, to forbid such time-honored practices?

Certainly not.

And for that reason, Judge ________ ___________ was well justified last week, in declaring the U.S. Constitution unconstitutional.

I don’t think I need to expound here on what I think about yesterday’s decision by a U.S. District judge that California’s Proposition Eight marriage protection measure is unconstitutional. The judge’s name is Walker, which is (I hope) irrelevant. I’m not sure that it’s also irrelevant that he’s an open homosexual (appointed by the first President Bush—thanks again, George).

It’s tempting to call the whole thing unfair because the judge must have been biased. But if the judge were heterosexual, would that be less biased (though I’d expect a straight Ninth District judge to rule pretty much the same way)?

Any issue of gender has to be one where it’s hard to find anybody neutral. I don’t think we have a lot of eunuch judges available (though my knowledge of judges is limited).

But it reminds me of another issue involved in Njal’s Saga, about which I wrote yesterday. A common way of settling a legal dispute in the sagas (I’ve used it several times in my novels, because it cuts through a lot of red tape) is to offer “self-judgment.” Self-judgment is an option when you’re up against another man and have a sneaking suspicion you’re in the wrong, or that you’re representing someone who’s in the wrong. You can’t apologize, because that isn’t done in an honor-based culture. But if your opponent is an honorable man, it can be a shrewd strategy to offer him self-judgment—to say, “Set your own price on your injuries, and I’ll pay it.”

Offering self-judgment pays a compliment to your opponent (you’re publicly demonstrating that you consider him fair-minded. And if he asks an outrageous fine, he’ll forfeit some of the honor you’ve just paid him).

I don’t think Judge Vaughn Walker is someone I’d offer self-judgment to.



One further item—my Australian friend Hal Colebatch has a new column up at The American Spectator. It’s called “Don’t Be Scared of Godwin’s So-Called Law,” and deals with the common “rule” (which I’ve never known liberals to observe for themselves) that it’s always out of order to bring Nazis into a political discussion. Colebatch says, oh no it isn’t.

Try mentioning to a euthanasia advocate that the Nazi extermination program started off as an exercise in medical euthanasia. And as for suggesting that Jews and Israel are in danger of a second holocaust if Muslim extremists have their way, just wait for: “Godwin’s Law!” “Godwin’s law!” repeated with a kind of witless assumption of superiority reminiscent of school playground chants.

Worth reading.