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You know—Court and I have talked about this topic (albeit not this situation or example). True friendship, at least defined by me, is beyond the roles of social etiquette. In a sense, it really is an egalitarian commitment between two people of shared values or common interest, where each person gives and receives a relatively equal (averaged) amount of effort and fulfillment. Derivation: Court had a high school “friend” that became rather whorish (believe it—the stories are incredible), and was an unequal yoke in the relationship. My point to Court was—if you can’t tell her that she’s acting whorishly, then what type of friendship is that? So long story short, whorish friend doesn’t call here anymore.

Perhaps a better example. I’m at a professional conference with a good buddy of mine. A very secular Jew that has (superficially) nothing in common with me whatsoever. Yet—we’re like brothers from a different mother. So we’re walking through the convention space, and I see this research presentation that’s the biggest piece of crap I’d seen in about a year. No exaggeration. So I tell the guy—“you know your research is fatally flawed. It’s fatally confounded and is thus uninterpretable.” The so-called-scientist attempted to defend his work, and I proceeded to mop the floor with his butt. As we were walking away, Peter tells me—“you know, you were kind of a butthole.” And at that point, I knew he was my true friend. Because only a friend would say that in the fashion in which it was said; compassionate, yet firm. So I promptly turned around, caught up with the pseudo-scientist, apologized and made amends. True story. And—for the record, the science was really bad. Fatally flawed. Uninterpretable. Embarrassing.

Point being—If anyone here would have offended me, it would be brought up. Because in my eyes, that’s what friends do. Further, it’s exceedingly hard to offend a stutterer.

My post about Tony Carpenter was really a result of me working a good 12 hours in temperatures exceeding 100 degrees over the weekend. Those kinds of blisters on one’s hands change your perspective on things for a while. I mean—every fiber in my body wants vengeance. That asshole screwed me out of thousands, which has direct consequences on my family. On the other hand, I wonder if Romans 12:2 relates to me in this situation; I feel like Samuel Jackson in the diner at the end up pulp fiction.

And for the record—I really do like beavers.

But if you want a reply to your post—I think your thinking has its merit. In a sense, it reminds me of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, as one of the guy’s central tenets in the book (at least initially) is that quality is not relative. Thank You and Hallelujah. Quality is not relative. (I’m calling shenanigans on the whole concept of relativism.) And it makes every bit of sense that there is Quality of Thought. And it is for this reason alone that I have abandoned NPR and most of the mainstream media; this turning point for me was when they interviewed Hector the illiterate fruit-stand vender in Mexico City on his views of international politics and radical islam. As if his thoughts matter…

On the other hand, I wonder how much pseudo-intellectualism involves itself—me being a prime example. I tell my students all the time that if you can’t explain a concept to a 5 year old, then you don’t know it. And for the most part—I think that example has a lot of validity. Compound this with my growing belief that we really don’t know much of anything—and that much of our belief in science, nature, and possibly even theology is a great illusion… Suffice it to say that beyond simple faith, I honestly do wonder the point. To a large degree, I have come to feel like academic discussions are tantamount to Antarctic Sea Lions trying to defend their 5-square-foot beach head. And on the other hand, I have this dark side of me that seems to rather enjoy dropping 5 syllable words every now and then. And to what gain?

Case in point is the secret decoder ring. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard (what I consider to be) second rate pastors take an otherwise cryptic verse in the Bible, claim that the English version of the Bible misinterprets the Greek, and then change the entire meaning of the passage based on the subsequent redefinition of one word. (As if God would allow that in the first place; NO—there’s no conspiracy reverend. Is the Bible inerrant or not? Or is it only inerrant for those with the secret decoder ring?) For the most part—I’m not buyin’ it. I readily admit that I don’t get John 1 or the Revelation. Just like I don’t get why God designed the Recurrent laryngeal nerve to drop down into the thoracic cavity to the go back up and innervate the larynx. I have made peace with my colossal ignorance, and thus I don’t have to come up with a Chewbacca Defense. I don’t have to try and defend my 5 foot beachhead, because I’ve questioned if that beachhead is even worth my time. Beyond simple faith and the occasional intellectual masturbation that keeps life interesting (in both Science and Theology)—what’s the point. (Note the lack of a question mark.) Maybe this is a reflection of my relationship with God—good or bad, or perhaps it’s a reflection of my candor in the meaningless of human pursuits; I honestly don’t know.

It’s not the secret decoder ring itself, but rather someone projecting assured knowledge (almost conspiratorially so) based on arrogance. I know that I do not know, but I know that I have simple faith.

Specialization certainly has its place; I just don't know what that place is. Someone asks me what the cause of stuttering is; and I can point to them with confidence a part of the brain (basal ganglia) that is goofing up. Big whoop. Then they ask me how to fix or cure it; and I shrug my shoulders and ask them out for a pint. Where's the net benefit to society? I'm not sure if this carries over to theology, but when I look at the ever-morphing popular interpretations of the scripture from decade to decate and century to century--I kind of giggle. Antarctic Sea Lions trying to defend their 5-square-foot beach head.