My mortal enemy, the unspeakable Hunter Baker (don’t buy his book) relates a positive experience with colleagues in his new teaching gig, over at his blog.

A female colleague in the sciences opened our discourse by asking the philosopher, “Why did you find this author’s argument either intereresting or persuasive?” She quickly followed that by adding, “Because I didn’t.” In many circles, her question and comment would set up a quick ending to the discussion. Instead, she merely piqued our interest as the philosopher patiently explained his choice and his opinion. Soon, we were well down the road in trying to find some common ground. Before I knew it, over two hours had passed.

Maybe there’s hope for the nation after all.

Stefan Kanfer has a fascinating article over at City Journal about a man who has always been (in an ambivalent sort of way) one of my personal heroes—the cartoonist Al Capp, creator of Li’l Abner (thanks to Daniel Crandall of The American Culture for the tip).

Back in its heyday, during the Great Depression, World War II, and the Fifties, Li’l Abner occupied a place in the American consciousness for which it’s hard to find an analog in today’s world. Back then everybody—except members of the most extreme religious communities—read the daily comics. Comic strips were what network TV used to be (but also is no more). If there were a page on the internet that everybody in the country visited every day, that would be something like what Li’l Abner was back then. When Abner finally gave up his fight to remain a bachelor and married Daisy Mae, the nation rejoiced (or grieved, depending on their point of view). Continue reading No feather in his Capp →

It was a quiet weekend at home for me, the first in some time. The rain delayed, giving me a chance to do some of the yard work I haven’t been able to get to before. And I made at least a token effort to clean the house (I might mention that I love the Swiffer Wet Jet. This is the mop I’ve waited for all my life. I’m sure it’s environmentally evil, what with chemicals and throw-away pads and all, but I’ll just keep it as my personal iniquity, until the EPA pries it from my cold, dead hands).

Sunday evening I drove down to Rochester (Minnesota, not New York. The place where the original Mayo Clinic is) to meet some distant relatives. Two shirttail cousins and their wives. One of them comments on this blog, but I’d never met him personally before. He’s here on vacation. We shared family stories, and I slipped into Lecturer Mode, explaining at length about Norwegian history, naming customs, and immigration patterns, among other things. In spite of that, they paid for my dinner.

I got from them yet another version of how our family acquired the British name, Walker. This one says the change was made at the urging of a local banker in Iowa, a relation by marriage. He is said to have told my great-grandfather’s brother he ought to change his name to “get ahead” in America. He then picked out Walker himself, because it sounded vaguely like “Kvalevaag,” the name of the farm this ancestor had come from.

So now I have three different versions. I’m not sure what conclusions to draw from all the disinformation. Maybe the Walker brothers were spies, and this was all deep cover.

We wondered about another odd circumstance, that although the two brothers weren’t many years apart in age (my great-grandfather was the younger), and although these two fellows I had dinner with are roughly in my age range, we have a full generation difference in our genealogies. In other words, while my ancestor is my great-grandfather, their ancestor (his brother) was their grandfather. In fact, their father is still alive. I guess a couple young marriages in my family tree account for the differences.

Anyway, I had a jolly time, and if they read this, here’s my thanks.

According to reports, the Taliban in Afghanistan have hanged a 7-year-old boy.

A 7-year-old boy was murdered by the Taliban in an apparent act of retribution this week. Afghan officials said that the child was accused of spying for U.S. and NATO forces and hanged from a tree in southern Afghanistan.

Daoud Ahmadi, the spokesman for the provincial governor of Helmand, said that the killing happened days after the boy’s grandfather, Abdul Woodod Alokozai, spoke out against militants in their home village.

For all you relativists who have trouble figuring out the complicated differences between good and evil, this is what we call evil.

Stopping a boat running a legal military blockade is not evil.

Just for the record.

You might want to make a note of this.