Why is it “Febreze” instead of “Febreeze”? The double “e” in the middle seems so obviously superior to me, not least because, ya know, the actual word is breeze.
Christmas has arrived at the Bowman’s
Finished reading: Little Platoons by Matt Feeney 📚
Smart analysis on how American families have given up more than they bargained for in their efforts to make themselves legible to the institutions supposedly serving their interest (esp. college admission offices). Feeney writes with wry humor and weaves some interesting philosophical sources into his sociological commentary. (Side note: He also writes really long sentences.) The key insight of the book is compelling; my only complaint is that, upon reaching the end of the book (250+ pages), I didn’t feel that we’d move that far beyond where we started. Still a worthwhile read.
Still not all of ‘em…
Jesus' death was confusing, dismaying, and inexplicable at the time of the event, and even after the resurrection there was still no small amount of fear and uncertainty about how to proceed. Despite the promises of resurrection and the appearance of the resurrected Christ to several of the disciples, Jesus’s followers remained fearful (cf. John 20:19) and rather inwardly focused (Acts 1:12-14) until the giving of the Spirit. But once the Spirit of power and revelation came upon the disciples at Pentecost, they understood the significance of all that Jesus had taught an done beforehand (cf. John 2:22). The evangelists then write their accounts with this post-Pentecost perspective and expert analysis and commentary. Because of the centrality of the death and resurrection in salvation history, the Gospel accounts are written from the perspective of this historical-theological event. Therefore, as readers we need to follow the lead of the evangelists and trace the same trajectory in our reading, interpreting all the pre-passion stories through the post-Pentecost perspective motivating the authors.
My buddy Ricardo recommended to me “Montana” by Slow Pulp (from their debut album, Moveys). Easy to get lost in.
A pet peeve of mine: When a junior scholar—say, a PhD student—writes a hyper-critical and dismissive review of a seasoned, well-respected scholar’s book. Now, in saying this, I don’t mean to suggest that established scholars are above criticism. Far from it! In getting to the place they now occupy, they’ve surely received more criticism than any of us mere mortals ever will. What irks me specifically is when this imagined junior scholar writes with a dismissive tone, giving off the distinct impression to readers that they could’ve produced a much better volume. There’s a certain decorum at work here (or lacking, I suppose). If you’re wanting to write a critical review of N. T. Wright’s latest book, that’s fine. But, if you treat Wright’s work as something easily dispensed with—his arguments easily demolished by your superior intellect—you reveal yourself to be an unserious person. Don’t be that person. So, if you’re going to review a book by, say, Oliver O’Donovan, or Matthew Levering, or Katherine Sonderegger, please don’t write it in such a way that readers are left thinking you believe you deserve their post more than they do. It’s not a good look.