Prayer Requests

I noticed this box of cards as I walked past the church down the street. It was a box of 4×8 inch prayer request cards. I took one, just in case. If I want the people at the church to pray for me, I must take a card, fill it out with name, address, phone, what I want them to pray for (or to praise). I must also check either confidential or ok to publish. Publish? Then I must slide the card into the slot to be picked up by the help.

I’m not sure why they do this, but I like it. I once heard a retired preacher of the Calvinist tradition say that prayer is more effective if the person praying has greater faith. They know stuff like that. Maybe when more people pray, it works better. Maybe when people in an interdenominational church pray, it’s better because one of the denominations may be the right one.

I remember when a thousand people filled our Catholic church to pray for a well-liked, dying old lady. She got well. They were taking credit like crazy. Then she died. Oops. But death has never stopped Catholics from praying for the repose of the soul of a deceased. It’s part of the denomination.

What I like about this is if people want to be prayed for, they can ask. Otherwise, no prayers. If I want to be prayed for, or to offer praise in my name, I’ll let them know. Otherwise, they may assume I can do my own praying. Or, assume I do not want or need to be prayed for. Or, assume I’d rather they did something else.

It’s like asking, “Would you like us to pray for you?” Nope. And if I change my mind, I know where I can stick the request card. I feel so enlightened. Amen.

Bill

Angry Atheists

I’m not chronically angry. I am quite concerned about things politically, and I can be upset, even threatened by it all. However, just because I embrace my personal atheism, I’m not on mad autopilot.

I find the lies, deceptions, human rights violations, and self-righteousness of religions and religious people annoying, if not downright evil. Many believers agree with me. It has nothing to do with my atheism which is more about existence than religion.

Let me start with Greta Christina’s book, Why Are You Atheists So Angry? 90 Things That Piss Off the Godless. It’s a must read for those of us on the skeptical side of things. I think it is also a should read for every believer who writes, speaks, or thinks the word atheist. Greata is hardcore, but she politely makes a ton of excellent points regarding anger. Some of the things she mentions barely phase me, yet I agree with her.

Anger is a normal human emotion. I know what it is. I cannot honestly say that I have been angry because I am atheist or because I doubt if there is a god. But strangely, some people assume that emotion, if I question anything religious or spiritual.

For example, I participated in an online group regarding cancer, its treatment, and advice was sought for families and patients. People shared their situation, either as a cancer patient or as a family member. “Thoughts and prayers” were often solicited and offered. Good for them. I expect that. One time I responded to an atheist who asked if anyone else “here” was also a skeptic. I told him that he was not alone. I understand why he asked.

However, there was one long, biblical, proselytizing, graphic, and very Christian posting. I commented that I was unaware of the religious nature of the group’s page. I was not offended or angry. Yet, many respondents seemed to think I was.

The post was unusual and over the top for me. Unfortunately, group admins were unable to let go of the issue. They even invited me to say what I thought. I respectfully declined and left the group. No harm, no foul. The stated purpose of the group was to focus on cancer treatment. If it did not, I must excuse myself. But I never felt the least bit of anger, nor was I offended.

I’m offended, as in my feelings may be hurt, when people assume I am less moral or evil because I doubt their god exists. Or worse, I say their religion and god are man-made. I am offended when a U.S. President implies atheists are not American citizens. But these things would offend most people.

It is just name-calling, but it is also dangerous. I am offended when I read hateful sputum produced by so-called religious people regarding people who think differently. However, I don’t walk around angry because of it.

And yes, there are angry rants and raves by pissed off people. I titled this blog “Dispassionate Doubt” for a reason.

Bill

What is a god? Any god. Who is it?

I Googled ‘God.’ I got about 2.16 billion hits. Wow. The answer must be there. Right?

One was from a Christian religious site. Everything they claimed about God was supported with biblical citation by chapter and verse, of course. But there were two important exceptions.

First, the article claimed it’s obvious: “God’s existence is so conspicuous….” So, everyone should know. Second, it championed God by further claiming that “creation,” or existence, and human consciousness make God manifest. The writer did not answer what, or who is any god. But they continued to try.

The rest of the post made interesting claims. Such as, they said if you don’t get God right, that is idolatry, which is a sin (Pardonne-moi s’il te plaît). “God is spirit, by nature intangible.” No help there. But then they said, “We know certain things to be true of God…” Then they quoted more scripture. Why? Because all we “know” of that God are unsupported, written claims from thousands of years ago.

The piece also identified characteristics of God. Those are loving, truthful, holy, compassionate, merciful, graceful, judgmental, and forgiving. All human traits, yet again based on scripture because that’s all they have. Still not much to help with what or who a god is.

If we return to the it’s conspicuous and human consciousness claims, which make God obvious, there are problems. Nature, a certain creation of God’s, is obviously random and destructive. Additionally, God’s humans are incredibly destructive toward each other and to nature. Enter The Problem of Evil.

There is also the fact that no one is born knowing anything about any god. We are taught about God by others. God must be learned. How is that obvious, intuitive, or rising from human consciousness? And why not? Many less important things such as breathing, swallowing, our beating hearts, and more are there from day one or before.

A God, or higher power, is whatever we say it is or want it to be. We create gods and always have. That need may be a human trait. But so is thinking. A tree, nature, rain, an animal, something living in a volcano or in the sea may be a god because we say so. Personally, I like the Sun as a god. Planets named after gods and goddesses are all ready to step in for us. And what about goddesses? We’ve had Luna, Phoebe, Athena, Aurora, Flora, Freya, Iris, Cora, Selena, Thalia, and hundreds more.

I enjoy H. L. Mencken’s 1922, funeral oration for dead gods, “Memorial Service,” in which he lists names of many gods now gone. He ends with, “You may think I spoof. That I invent the names. I do not. Ask the rector to lend you any good treatise on comparative religion: You will find them all listed. They were gods of the highest standing and dignity – gods of civilized peoples – worshiped and believed in by millions. All were theoretically omnipotent, omniscient, and immortal. And all are dead.”

None of those gods ever actually existed. The author of the referenced Christian article would almost certainly agree with Mencken and me, with one exception. The one God and religion they were luckily born into and taught about. Lucky them.

I see the Sun. I get it. It’s there every day. We need it to survive. It preceded us and probably contributed to human and nature’s existence. Why not retro that old god? It’s nothing new. What is a solar system without a Sun?

Bill

And That’s a Fact, Jack.

Back when years began with nineteen instead of twenty, my head was topped with slightly thin, dark-brown hair with hints of gray near the temples. I had the look and was living through a time known as midlife.

I was treated well — an “expert” in my field. While I enjoyed it, I often felt that expectations of me pushed the limits of my knowledge and capabilities. As in baseball, I won some and lost some. Thinking back, I now realize that I was dealing with a minor form of imposter syndrome.

Eventually, I got comfortable saying, “I don’t know.” That helped, as did, “I don’t care” and “I was wrong.” I am cautious with those last two. Not caring may be offensive. Admitting error requires sufficient contrary evidence. To this day, I do not need to know how the Cosmos came into being. I’d like to know. But regardless of how it happened, it is what it is.

Back then, I carried a blue, loose-leaf binder notebook. I inserted humorous quotes and sarcastic cartoons into the outside front cover. One serious insert I wrote proclaimed, “I have not decided everything yet. If you quote me, I may have changed my mind.”

That was my way of declaring that I was still figuring things out: learning. While I had a few firm opinions, I was a true believer of nothing.

I learned to be careful sharing my thoughts and to couch my reasons. I tried to be clear about what I think versus proclaiming what fact is. I still do that.

Since college, I’ve been a fan of Eric Hoffer’s book, The True Believer. I don’t think I “got it” until the last five or ten years. While I want to take a clear side for moral reasons, I also do not want to become blinded to truth and reality. I wasn’t neutral, but I wanted as much rational, logical certainty about my own beliefs as I could muster. I was naïve to think most others felt the same. Thankfully, many people are reasonable and rational, even if not as many as I’d like.

I began to realize that people I knew were masquerading as intelligent, open-minded, caring souls, but were disguised true believers. I should have known. I was often disappointed.

I like M. Lamar Keene’s expression for what causes people to believe things proven to be false: the true believer syndrome.

He asked, “What is it that compels a person, past all reason, to believe the unbelievable. (sic) How can an otherwise sane individual become so enamored of a fantasy, an imposture, that even after it’s exposed in the bright light of day (sic) he still clings to it — indeed, clings to it all the harder?”

While Keene and Hoffer were each referring to different types of true believers, they are clearly related phenomena, although not as unusual as I used to think. Today we find them deeply involved in religion and politics. Are they dangerous?

I prefer being a skeptic to the mental chains of a true believer. If I must have a syndrome, I choose imposter.

Bill

Are They (Christians) Lying Hypocrites?

I normally don’t, but some of us refer to Christians as liars and hypocrites. Many Christians refer to others (Muslims, Jews, skeptics, etc.) the same way. Few details or logical explanations are usually provided, but examples abound. For me, personal attacks define the difference between being anti-religious (about people) and being anti-religion (about dogma, creeds, rules, and policy).

I agree that religious populations are replete with deceit and scandal. Every sin has probably been committed by many members of every religion, often in the name of God. We’re human, but why might followers of Jesus be highlighted more than any other group as possessors or perpetrators of such failing attributes? I pondered this and did a bit of looking stuff up. But mostly I think I thunk it through. You judge.

There are almost 8 billion people on earth. Nearly 350 million of them live in the USA. Of those populations, 2.5 billion world-wide are Christians, or about 31.3%. In the United States, 213 million, or about 61 to 65% of the total American population claim to be of the Christian persuasion. I pulled those estimates from various internet sources and rounded up, but things change. According to various sources, while total populations are increasing, the percentages of religious believers are declining. That’s still a lot of liars and hypocrites.

At one time or another virtually everyone of us will tell a lie of some sort (the G. Washington myth notwithstanding). A good many people, if not all, will also behave in ways that do not conform with their personally claimed moral standards. That defines hypocrites (frauds, charlatans, and phonies). In my opinion, dishonesty is indiscriminately part of our human condition or nature regardless of race, creed (religion or none), sex, national origin, age, political affiliation, or shoe size. To deceive is unfortunately human. A gift from God or Satan’s tool?

I’ve heard it called, “telling an untruth.” But exactly what constitutes a lie? My dictionary says it’s making an untrue statement with intent to deceive, or making a misleading, false impression, or one that may, or may not, be believed by the speaker or writer (i.e., the liar).

I think one must intend to deceive to properly wear the liar moniker. I also think saying what one believes, even if it’s wrong, is not at the same level of lie as an intentionally deceptive one. Even small lies, like fibs, require knowing it’s not true to fit my definition. But is that good enough? Maybe not.

Ideally, something is either true, or it is not, yet gray areas abound. This is where a college course in logic or argumentation becomes useful. For example, let’s assume there is no god (easy enough for most readers of this blog). A true Christian believer comments here that, “there is a God, and all atheists are going to Hell.” That is what they believe: God is real and vengeful. I’m 99% convinced the Christian is incorrect, and I am willing to say so. That is what I believe. One of us must be wrong. One of us is telling an untruth. But is either of us also a liar?

Here’s the rub. While I have no interest in de-converting anyone, I would be happy to answer any questions. I would also be delighted if I contributed to someone walking away from their religious beliefs, all of which I consider to be bullshit. But I say “I don’t know” – a lot.

On the other hand, the Christian is bound to “spread the word” and to “bring sinners to God/Christ,” to evangelize and to proselytize. If it would serve the greater good and save someone’s soul, even to intentionally lie may be seen as a service to God, thus morally good. The greater good refers to the adage, the ends justify the means. They’re reluctant to say “I don’t know” because that could mean a doubting spirit, agnostic thinking, or religious ignorance.

One of us is believing and saying something that is not true. We both think it’s the other guy. Are we both justified as seeing the other as a liar? Either a god exists or not. Period, but that’s unprovable. Is one of us lying? Intent matters and we each think we are correct. Neither of us is attempting to deceive anyone, even if one is more aggressive in behavior and playing by different rules.

While I invoke intent in defining lies, I do not with hypocrisy. Voices from my childhood, “Do as I say, not as I do.”

When I completed teaching a class on The Problem of Evil, someone asked me how I reconciled what I had just taught with what I believed. I said that I didn’t, but I lied because I did. I struggled because what I professed to believe was not what I thought deep down. My interpretation of scripture and my beliefs were not what others thought they were. It all worked out, but it took years. What I said in the class was the truth as I saw it at the time. What I professed to believe was not. Enter a bit of cognitive dissonance. But was I a liar or hypocrite?

So yes, Christians are liars and hypocrites. So are all members of every religion and of none. Some of them are aware of it, but I suspect most are not. In my opinion, they are no more deceitful than most other groups, particularly other religious groups. I can’t change that. I can only change me. No matter what, I’ll never be totally correct or completely certain. I’ll remain forever skeptical.

I shall also try to remain civil and to understand our human nature. I wish everyone would.

Bill

Replicating Hypocrites Without Creeds

John Pavlovitz is a believer. He’s also a writer, blogger, and an omnipresent social media force. Once fired by some megachurch, he’s a pastor and a political/religious activist from Wake Forest, NC.

I share many views with pastor Pavlovitz. I bet I could discuss nearly anything with him.

He recently posted “How to Know if You Have the Wrong Religion,” as if there is a right one. Therein he presents an argument for good deeds (James 2:14-26) although he never says so. Thus, he champions the obvious case that when religion breeds hate it is wrong.

Without using the term atheist, Pavlovitz included the following obiter dictum. My retorts are in parentheses.

“If you’re passionately (dispassionately) anti-religious (anti-religion) because you think belief in a higher power (God. HP is an AA mantra) is abject (degrading?) fairy tale (unsupported?) nonsense, that’s fine too. (Thanks, John) But if you’re intolerant to difference and intellectually arrogant (a term I recognize) in the face of people who’ve reached different conclusions than you have, (It is my conclusion. Have they concluded based on evidence? Or is it [the bible] all they know?) you are simply replicating hypocrites without the creeds.”

I much like the last phrase, “replicating hypocrites without the creeds.”

I’ve seldom been attacked or severely criticized by believers. It happens, but they run out of ideas after they send me to Hell. Maybe they all follow JP on line, as my wife and I do.

However, a good many atheists and agnostics have indeed abjectly and passionately criticized me for saying that I understand why people believe in God. It’s not because there is one.

I do understand why folks believe. I think they’ve reached wrong conclusions, but it’s fine. I also understand why folks who share my conclusion may criticize my comment. That’s also fine.

Bill

Essay: Prayer is Weird

It’s really weird. Because I don’t believe in any spiritual things like gods, angels, saints, or demons (except the human sort), I stopped praying on my own years ago.

When well-meaning people say they will pray for me, I try to respectfully decline, although they never ask if I would mind, or if they may pray. It is kind of like I have no choice.

It’s not that I fear any form of harm. I’m atheist. If you want me to respect your beliefs, please reciprocate. If someone prays for me, it’s fine. But it is no favor to me. Except, I always need fodder for this blog. I know I’m pissing into the wind, but I am simply writing about how I am affected by living in a mostly believing, religious community.

The weird part of prayer is that I do usually pray when asked. I also have changed tires for strangers, hung pictures for friends, mowed lawns for neighbors, fixed boxes for cats, and (rarely) given advise when asked. The latter things all require greater effort (and get better results) than the former (praying). But I pray when asked or to keep from being a jerk (usually). Here is an excellent article on the subject.

I have held hands or waited patiently to eat while someone thanked God for everything from creation of the universe to the traffic being light on the highway, to “this fried chicken and gravy that God hath blessed us with,” as the cook bows his or her head and grits their teeth.

Recently, a retired nurse told me that pain was “a gift from God.” In my 60+ years of religion and a prayerful life (albeit, spotty), I cannot recall a single time when anyone thanked God for pain. Not for their agony or that of any of their loved ones. Good grief. Ungrateful bastards! (sarcasm) Who wants a medical provider who thinks your pain is a gift from God? (seriously)

When we were in a thunderstorm 40,000 feet above the Marianas Trench, we all thought we might crash and die that night; however, not one of our B-52 crew of seven prayed. At least four of us were quite religious. We all tightened our ejection seat and parachute straps and did our jobs, which was probably why we did not crash.

I can mentally do a flash prayer in seconds. Some call them “ejaculation” (or ejaculatory) prayers (I still giggle). I was Catholic, not Southern Baptist or Evangelical, who clearly struggle to ejaculate quickly (sarcastic humor).

If a friend asks me to pray for something reasonable, I almost always do. But I’m greedy. I’ll only pray for me to win the lottery unless we have a deal.

My views on prayer may seem hypocritical. Others may see an irreconcilable conflict if an atheist prays. I don’t care. I prayed for some sixty years with no harm (or results) to me or anyone. I am atheist. I can do what I want. We have no rules.

It does not mean I believe in any god. It does mean that I like and respect some people. It shows that I care enough about them to honor their request to petition a deity (existing or not) to help them. My atheism is about gods or spirits (other than human).

Religion is a whole other donnybrook. But feel free to ask for an ejaculatory prayer. I will most likely accommodate.

I recognize that most people disregard my request to do something besides pray for me. I don’t ever know if they actually prayed. But I must ask, who is respecting whom? And why is that?

Bill

Wasted Effort: Deadly Attitude

I read about Iraan (1,200 pop., pronounced Ira-Ann), a town in far west Texas oil country that has been devastated by COVID. It focused on a man named Sammy and town residents who prayed for him and their little town.

Sammy was hospitalized on a Thursday in the town’s small 14-bed rural clinic with no ICU or any means to care for COVID patients, despite a horrendous infection rate. The following Saturday, after days of prayers for an open ICU bed, he was airlifted to San Angelo, where he died after five days of ICU treatment. An interview was posted by CNN.

Many people prayed. Some residents seemed to dance around and cry and waive their arms in the air praying. Is that better praying? Few town residents wore masks that I could tell, but some wore the blue surgical type.

People who prayed seemed especially enthusiastic when on camera (God watches CNN, right?). The line of trucks and cars with people in them sat quietly, ostensibly also praying, but also social distancing just in case the gathering was a bad idea.

Then after a week of praying, this was posted: “Thank you to everyone who prayed… Sammy is with Jesus,” He died.

I know of no thanks given to anyone else. The human effort expended to help Sammy was apparently not acknowledged, but if you prayed in a failed effort, you were at least thanked. I would like to think everyone who tried to save the man was thanked, even if they did not pray, even if they were atheists.

No mention was made of more town folks masking up. No mention of getting vaccinated (the county, Pecos, is 54%, which is good for that area). Just praying. Lots of prayers. Numbers seem to count with prayer, so more is better. Sometimes loudness, waving hands in the air, and dancing also matter.

I found this comment clearly flagged in bright big blue letters on the Iraan clinic’s web page: “We have a sufficient supply of Moderna COVID-19 vaccine available. Please call our Rural Health Clinic @ 432-639-XXXX or (name deleted), RN, CNO @ 432-639-XXXX with eligibility questions or to schedule your appointment today!” I don’t know the town’s vax rate.

Did Sammy wear a mask? Was he vaccinated, or did he and his wife decide to let go and let God? I don’t care why not. Did Sammy die because of an attitude?

My daughter and grandson live in/near a small, but larger, west Texas town about 150 miles from Iraan. I’ve been there many times. My wife grew up living in several such towns. The COVID vax rate in my daughter’s west Texas county is 32%. Few, if any, folks wear any kind of mask. Those who do risk harassment. I know the mentality. I don’t like it, but the virus doesn’t care. I would expect the infection and death rates to be higher than I can find. But who knows?

I do not expect people to stop praying, getting sick, or dying. No one will change their faith because of anything I say or do. I hope the situation in the town and death of a popular man entice more folks to do all they can to be safe. If they must pray and they want to think it works, fine.

But as my father used to tell me, “God helps them that helps themselves.” And if you expect God to make you a lottery winner, you must still buy, find, or steal a ticket. What we do matters, God or no god. Prayers or not.

Bill

One Miracle at a Time

When one does not believe in any god or similar form of spiritual otherness, it follows that one might struggle with miracles (walking on water, curing lepers, making zombies). It’s the word, not the wonderment. By one definition, a miracle is an “extraordinary event manifesting divine intervention in human affairs.” A synonym for manifest is obvious. That means it is easy to see some god or divine intelligence did it.

On the secular side, an alternate definition is “an extremely outstanding or unusual event, thing, or accomplishment.” That is how my wife uses it. That works for me. Synonyms for miracles include something that is amazing, a marvel, phenomenon, splendor, or wonder.

Unfortunately, too many people think atheists do no appreciate amazing things because we don’t think there is a god to do it. They think that without attribution to a deity or cosmic intelligence, we are unable to appreciate amazingly splendid marvels and awesome wonders. That is false conjecture. I know it is not true because I am an atheist. I appreciate many natural and real things, in my opinion, often more than spiritual people do. I find the god can do anything argument childishly boring.

When atheists claim such appreciation, many people insult us by saying we are not true atheists. Like they would know. Or they may confuse atheism with nihilism. That’s easy to do and quite common. I can’t fix it. But Google can. However, I’m not going there now.

Interestingly, some atheists claim an even higher awareness because without something like a god to attribute things to, we see wonders and splendors as even greater natural events. That includes our own human ability to know (science) and to appreciate intangible things like art and music, or love and friendship. Be it the universe or a single human cell, amazing things are exactly that.

While I attribute neither the Universe (or Cosmos) nor humanity’s existence to the sudden whim of any intelligence or some god, I am fascinated by earthly nature, the heavens, and biology. In the secular sense, it’s miraculous. Evolution is incredible and ruthless, but so amazing.

Science, not religion, must be given center stage in any study or discussion of either life or the cosmos. In fact, science itself provides the knowledge that makes what little we know and understand more appreciative of awesomeness. With deference to Poe, thank you Science.

We can speculate about life existing on some planet other than on Earth. But we don’t know. Regarding all things, we can develop hypotheses and theories about what happened and when. But we seldom know. Yet, there is one huge miracle I have in my mind that flies above all others. The odds against it are enormous.

It’s what Bill Bryson calls the “supremely agreeable condition known as life.” We are, as he goes on to claim, “in the most literal sense cosmic.” I agree with him. Not only is all life tied together, but it also seems the entire Universe is one big (bang) bag of marvels.

But honestly, I once believed or accepted the idea that one god created it all. The fact that I can no longer attribute things to theological answers makes none of it less amazing. If my view is different now, things are even more awesome for me. I now pay much more attention to it all.

That life happened beats tremendous odds. For me, the very fact that no creator or intelligence did it (nod to those who believe otherwise) makes it more amazing, not less.

Bill

I Didn’t Know

Twenty-five years ago, I began to find comfort in admitting I was wrong when I realized or thought I was. Who knew? Before that, being right was important. Then, poof—it wasn’t.

To that 12-step teaching (tenth step, admitting wrong) I would add fewer apologies, or saying “I’m sorry” when I was harmlessly wrong. Out of habit, I still say it when I do no harm. But I try not to. I’ve decided apologizing too much might reduce the sincerity of my true contrition when something was mea culpa.

I’ve had ideas. We all do. Most of mine have been based on nothing more than my personal preference or life experiences. When what I thought I knew turned out to be wrong, admitting that simply ended things. Life continued peacefully.

This morning, on his Patheos.com blog, I read James H. Haught’s piece, “Skepticism is All About Honesty” (July 21, 2021, FFRF). Therein, he relates a eureka moment when someone told him the “answer” is “I don’t know.” I recall speakers and teachers admitting temporary ignorance but promising to return after some research. Many did. It is a good way to go.

Haught goes on to write, “To me, the bottom line is honesty. A person with integrity doesn’t claim to know supernatural things that he or she cannot know.” I agree, but my reasons are little more personal and emotional.

Of course, honesty is important. Claiming to possess knowledge one cannot possibly have is not only dishonest, everyone knows of the dishonesty, except for the delusional (as so many are). But when I realized that I could say I don’t know to any question, I felt a sense of relief that is still difficult for me to describe.

I don’t know how the universe came to be, if our solar system was a coincidence, or if there is life in any form after death. I don’t know of life in other galaxies. I have no idea if nature has consciousness or what that might look like. I have no clue about why so many humans are either evil or good. I don’t know if human energy is healing. I do not need to know any of that.

When someone tells me, “There must be something,” such as a god or consciousness, I ask, “why must there be?” There certainly might be, could be, or we may like there to be. Something may feel good or be comforting about ideas. I get that. Indeed, there may be a cause or a reason for things that happen. But I’m not feeling the must, as in compelled by fate or natural law, or any other definition of must.

I’m unopposed to differing hypotheses or opinions, but that is what most proposed answers are, something less than a theory. If there is scientific evidence, proof, or if a concrete theory is developed and tested, that would be wonderful. Until then, I don’t know. If I find out, I’ll get back with you. I assume you will do likewise.

I cannot say I am sorry that I do not believe what others do, or that I think something true they may deny. If I am wrong and someone convinces me of that, fine. It happens. If I learn something I did not know, even better. But if no skin was removed from any part of anyone’s anatomy (or wallet), I am unlikely to apologize for being wrong. I was wrong and I am not sorry.

Xin loi (xin lỗi, pronounced zin-loy) is a polite Vietnamese phrase which literally means excuse me or pardon me. I like it. However, during the Viet Nam War, American soldiers used the phrase sardonically to mean something like sorry about that (or worse). When I’m mistaken, I’d like to say excuse me or pardon me. But, since xin loi was hijacked, I will settle for saying excusez moi, perhaps with a wee touch of snarkastic arrogance, for which I am so sorry.

Bill