Cripples and Bastards and Broken Things

So, yeah, I watch Game of Thrones. Not a big deal, right? After all, if broadcast ratings are to be believed, over 17 million households watched the most recent episode. I also watch Game of Thrones on a Sunday, mere hours after attending my conservative evangelical church.

Ay, there’s the rub… how dare a professing Christian (especially one whose political views tilt more toward the conservative end of the spectrum) enjoy a spectacle filled with all manner of gross, perverse, and utterly barbaric words/deeds? Does this not contradict numerous Biblical exhortations to live a life of purity and piety?

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Jordan Peterson is my homeboy?

Well… not exactly.

Don’t get me wrong, I’d totally hang out with the guy — and I am very interested in much of what he has to say — but I throw my endorsements around like manhole covers.

That is to say: I like his work, but I certainly have some concerns and ideological quibbles here and there.

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XLI (reflections upon my 41st year)

41st birthday cakeToday is my forty-first birthday, and it feels… well, anti-climactic. There is absolutely nothing significant about turning 41.

Of course, my birthday falling on a weekday probably didn’t help. This morning I just got up, went to work, ate dinner, went to church, and now I type these words sprawled out on my bed.

Having eclipsed most age-related milestones, it would seem the only birthdays that still “mean something” will be when I surpass another decade. Turning 40, or 50, or 60, or 70, or 80… may be a big damn deal, but add a year and it’s suddenly anti-climax.

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