They’ve been hit by the third big earthquake in a matter of weeks. Things look very bad.
Monthly Archives: October 2016
Usually it is desirable to have a writer’s signature in a book. And often, a personal message in the book can be desirable, if the writer and recipient are both long dead.
On the other hand, it is generally not desirable to have a book with a personal message of recent date. There’s no real reason… other than than it makes collectors deeply uncomfortable, and that it makes it impossible to ever show your copy to the author. Nobody wants a book to make them feel like a social stumbling block, surprisingly enough.
I mean, there’s your author showing heartfelt gratitude and love for someone else — and then that special someone turns the book around on Amazon? Pretty cold for the writer.
On the other hand, it makes one feel protective of the author of even a bad book.
(The title is a classical reference, as Instapundit/Glenn Reynolds would say, to Kipling’s poem, “Mary, Pity Women!”)
In the words of the late great Steve Goodman, “Go, Cubs, Go!”
Fly the W at the World Series!
Steven Den Beste respected truth, and had humility or realism about the limits of his own human knowledge. Here is a good example. He was an atheist by conviction, but was well aware that his beliefs about God and the nature of the universe could not be proved.
“I guess I can see how [The Raving Atheist] might interpret what I wrote as pandering, but it’s difficult to see how it could be traitorous. That presumes that I’m part of some formal group and had given some sort of promise to it of loyalty, and then turned around and broke that promise. But I am part of no such group. I do not owe any loyalty to any kind of global atheist cause.
“… I do not agree with you that it is possible to disprove the existence of the Christian God. Nor do I “share your disdain for a tooth-fairy God,” etc.
“… I am totally convinced that a mechanistic explanation for the universe is the correct one. But I arrived at that result through inductive reasoning, not through deductive reasoning.
“… But induction is not objective. Deduction is objective, and one can document the evidence, reasoning and conclusion of a deductive proof and others can look at it and will agree that it’s unflawed and therefore true. Induction is not ultimately susceptible to an equivalent process of checking.
“… we as individuals can arrive at equal degrees of certainty about some issues but without really having any ability to convince other people of those results, in fields which are not readily susceptible to the collective processes of the scientific method. Religion is one of them.
“… If two people have different bodies of knowledge, they obviously won’t necessarily get the same inductive answers. But even if they broadly share the same knowledge base they can still get different inductive results.
“That’s because they may place different weights on different pieces of data. What one may find critically persuasive the other may think is completely unimportant. In principle that whole process might be subject to extreme scrutiny and maybe everyone could come to agree on all of those evaluations, but as a practical matter it ain’t gonna happen.
“When The Raving Atheist tries to claim that atheism is true and that theistic religions are false and that these things can be proved, those claims only make sense within deductive reasoning. Induction can never prove anything; all it can do is to assign an extremely high conviction level to it. What I was trying to say in that article was that my certainty about atheism is based on induction, and because induction is subjective I cannot outright prove to anyone else that I’m right.
“If someone makes the claim that atheism is subject to deductive proof then they are forced to achieve the standard of proof that I described in that article, and any single counter example, even if preposterous, is enough to derail that claim. That is the nature of the deductive process; it’s what makes it powerful when it works. If no such counterexample can be found, even preposterous ones, then the original claim is very powerfully proved.
“But what I showed in that article was that it is not in fact subject to deductive proof, which is why my single preposterous example was relevant.
“On the other hand, what works to disprove a claim of deductive truth may be irrelevant when the conclusion is the result of induction.
“… one can try to present an inductive case against the Christian God which is overwhelming. The Raving Atheist thinks such a case exists, and so do I, which is part of why both of us are atheists. But what I understand and RA clearly does not is that such an argument isn’t objective.
“As a practical matter, it’s a belief. I know that, and say so. He doesn’t seem to realize it.
“… I know or have known Christians that I thought were deluded fools. I have received more than my share of incoherent arguments from them which they thought were overwhelming and I thought were clear demonstrations of their lack of education and inability to reason effectively.
“But I have also known, and now know, Christians who are intelligent, intellectually disciplined, well read and knowledgeable who are completely convinced of their faith, just as I am totally convinced about mine. I think they are wrong, and they think I am wrong…
“… I do not think Donald Sensing is an idiot, and I consider his religion to be equal to my own, even though it totally contradicts mine. That doesn’t mean I have any doubt about mine; I’m convinced he’s wrong.
“… Donald and I disagree, but I think that his inductive process was of equal quality to my own, and until such time as further evidence becomes available which might directly affect those calculations, we’ll continue to disagree while maintaining mutual respect.
“As a practical matter, if he’s right we’ll both find out when we die. If I’m right, neither of us will ever know for sure.”
Now you know, Steven.
(Note: Of course the Catholic contention is that God’s existence is something which can be figured out by objective philosophical reasoning, as well as being supported by experience and history. But that is a whole other post, and I am not getting into Aquinas’ Summa Contra Gentiles at this hour.)
Steven Den Beste is dead.
He was a giant in early blogging. He was a well-known anime blogger in his second blogging career. But to me, he was a distant but good acquaintance, someone whose comments on blogs I read were always worth reading, and who seemed to like my comments too. I read his anime blog weekly, as a rule, although sometimes every day when he was in a spate of good posts. (And this in spite of not being his target audience. The other subject of his blog — all the cheesecake anime pics of pretty girls — was definitely not a plus for me!)
In the face of severe health problems and an ever-worsening loss of mobility, he was always resourceful. He never complained to us. Heck, he paid his registration fees to keep denbeste.nu until 2022.
His reserve was as great as his dislike of suggestions, but he was always ready to help others and give them useful sympathy when they were having problems. He was an atheist, but not militant or cruel. He was a man who loved truth, so I hope he has finally met Truth Himself and realized Who he had always loved.
He was a man who seemed to like women as people as well as aesthetically, and who hated anime where pretty girls suffered or died. I think he would have been an even better man if he had ever met the right woman, but like many men in STEM fields, he never met her.
I have always respected him. I will miss him. I will pray for his soul.
He’s the third fannish acquaintance whom I have lost to death this month. Sadly, he’s also the second person I’ve known in fandom who has been found dead after several days, and again the death was found out through the efforts of fannish friends.
(I wasn’t one of them, this time. A merciful Providence kept me so busy that I was totally unable to read my usual blogs for more than a week. The Lord probably knows I could not have borne the worry and suspense and second-guessing. And please pray for Brickmuppet and the other friends who did try to find out what was going on, because I don’t want them to feel that same second-guessing I have felt.)
Please, hug your family and friends. Pray for them. Go to Confession. An unprovided death is not a fun thing.
Remember that November is a month where one can gain many partial and plenary indulgences for souls. And you can work on getting partial and plenary indulgences for the dead on pretty much every day of the year.
As for Steven, I hope that the Just Judge has as decent an opinion of Steven Den Beste as I do. May his good works of educating the ignorant and helping those in need be rewarded. May his sins be forgiven and their stains purged away, and may his body be raised on the Last Day to eternal life and health. And may he now be praying for us, too, and for this crazy experimental land called the United States of America.
There are a lot of Tolkien fans who apparently think that “wolfhound” means “wolf-dog,” “wolf,” or even “bull mastiff.”
They are wrong. Tolkien had friends who had Irish wolfhounds. It was kind of a thing in England for a while. (Georgette Heyer had an Irish wolfhound too. Because she was just that awesome, that’s why.)
So here are some pictures where Huan does not look like a wolf, a half-wolf, or Il Grigio the guardian dog of St. John Bosco. (Even if I think Il Grigio is definitely one of his inspirations, as well as Somr’s Irish wolfhound that could think like a man and knew if there was malice in a man’s heart toward his master.)
“Lúthien and Húan in Tol-in-Gaurhoth,” by Randy Vargas.
Huan disguised as a werewolfhound, and Luthien Tinuviel disguised as a vampire, walking right into Melkor’s lands. Brilliantly done. Awesome perspective stuff, too.
“Celegorm and Curufin Find Luthien,” by Elena Kukanova.
A wonderful picture in so many ways. If you are an Irish wolfhound person, you will appreciate Huan’s typically soulful gaze and pose. But the atypical ethereality will be telling you that this is an angelic being, not an earthly hound. Take all my money, Elena.
“Huan and Luthien Escaping from Nargothrond,” by Ted Nasmith.
A nice picture of a half-angel half-elven girl and her giant angelic wolfhound. On the run. They also fight crime.
“Luthien and Huan on the Road to Tol-in-Gaurhoth” by Mikhail Ramendik.
A simple concept but a really touching photo rendition.
Apropos of all this, Tolkien’s poem “The Lay of Leithian, Release from Bondage” will be published in May 2017 as an illustrated book. Unfortunately/fortunately Alan Lee will be doing the illustrations. He kills me, because he tends to come very close to my mind’s eye pictures of the books, but then veers off in some odd direction. I’m pretty sure he’s on the wolf side of Huan pictures, so I’m not looking forward to that.
On the other hand, you could have Donato. Yup, Donato does Beren and Luthien at her dad’s court. Niiiiice.
Two pics of Huan as a Borzoi by Scorpionhoney. Okay, a giant Russian wolfhound is a legit interpretation.
On the other hand, tattooed elves are not a legit interpretation. Orcs, maybe. Or goblins.
St. John Bosco’s efforts to help the poor and teach kids trades were politically controversial, as well as threatening the livelihood of bandits and crime families in the Turin area. He also walked around in slums a lot, at sketchy hours, visiting sketchy people. So there were many occasions during his work when he was in physical danger of getting murdered or kidnapped.
And for those times, the Lord sent him a mysterious protector — a wolfish-looking gray dog who seemed to arrive from nowhere whenever needed and could vanish in a moment without anyone seeing him go. He seemed to smell out trouble in advance and know the plans of bad guys, accepted petting from friends but never accepted food from anyone, and over the course of more than thirty years, never seemed to sleep or age. He saved Bosco’s life on three occasions. He once vanished from a locked room. And after people stopped trying to kill Don Bosco, the dog never showed up again, except for once in the middle of a lonely stretch of nowhere when Bosco wished he had Il Grigio back to keep him company.
Don Bosco called him “the gray one” — “El Gris” in his native Piedmontese, or in Italian, “Il Grigio.” His friends suspected that Il Grigio was not just a helpful stray dog, but a guardian angel appearing in canine form.
But Il Grigio apparently didn’t end his work there.
In 1959, Blessed Pope John XXIII had St. John Bosco’s casket and remains brought to Rome to be venerated. On the way back from Rome, the Salesians made a stop at La Spezia. The idea was that the Brothers could venerate their founder on the down-low, and word was sent to wait for the van carrying the casket. This being a neighborhood in Italy, of course people found out that something was up. Soon townspeople were waiting alongside the Brothers.
And that was when a wolfish-looking gray dog showed up. One of the brothers got a stick and tried to drive him away from the main waiting area. (Some Italian street dogs are dangerous, to be fair.) The dog showed up again on another street corner, and approached a more dog-loving Brother, who petted him. The van arrived — and the dog began accompanying the casket wherever it went, as if assigned as an honor guard. Despite efforts to keep him out, the dog not only got into church, but seated himself directly under the casket and refused to move. He also prevented unauthorized people from touching the casket with his fierce growls.
At this point, people started to wonder about the dog, and the dog-loving Brother joked that it was Il Grigio. So they let the dog sit under the casket. The dog sat there patiently all day, quiet as a mouse, contented to have cloth drawn around the casket table to conceal the floor (and him) from view. When the Brothers were asked by mothers to lift up their babies and let them touch the casket, the dog did not growl or do anything aggressive.
When the viewing of the casket ended, he played with the schoolboys and some of the younger brothers. Then the dog followed the Brothers to their luncheon, but refused all food, just sitting in a corner. After lunch, he went away, and was later found in the church when it was unlocked, guarding the casket again. How did he get in? Nobody knew.
Then he followed the casket again as it went back into the van, waiting while the van waited. When the van drove away, he followed it through the streets until the third turn… at which point he mysteriously vanished.
And here is a photograph of this 1959 version of Il Grigio, hanging out by the van. You can see him in the bottom right corner, curled up in a ball. Was he the same dog or angel? Who knows? Certainly his appearance was fitting, whatever it meant.
Brother Renato Celato, who petted this new Il Grigio in 1959. This was my source for the 1959 Il Grigio photos.
Don Tiburzio Lupo’s account of the 1959 incident (in Italian).
One final note: In some of his papers, Tolkien said that Huan, the wolfhound of Valinor who guarded Luthien and helped Beren, was actually an example of how “many of the Maiar” would “robe themselves… like other lesser living things, as trees, flowers, beasts.” Huan at one point disguised himself as a werewolf to help Luthien sneak into Melkor’s stronghold. Nobody seems to have connected the story of Huan to the story of Il Grigio, but I think a Catholic guy like Tolkien could have gotten some ideas from Il Grigio!