And they might like this new t-shirt, courtesy of the festering brain-giblets of Warren Ellis.

EDIT: NOT available to buy at this time, which it says in Ellis’ post, so don’t give me any crap.

In the Saturday May 31, 2008 edition of The Guardian, Ian McEwan has an interesting study of historic and modern apocalyptic movements [The Day Of Judgment]. Despite consistent failure by stodgy theologians and crazy cult leaders alike to accurately predict the end of civilization, new prophets and new warnings of our collective demise appear with an almost tedious regularity. McEwan’s piece examines the rise of modern fundamentalist doomsaying, and places it in context as only the latest stanza in a centuries-old epic poem of cultural solipsism and utterly useless prophecy.

We sometimes think of doomsday cults as a modern phenomenon, but they’re really just notes in the margins of an age-old script. A time of political or social turmoil, a charismatic leader, a vision of impending awfulness, and a bunch of disaffected followers so caught up in the ruckus that they do things the rest of us think of as unfathomably crazy. The biggest difference these days is that they’ve replaced slaughtering Jews with holing up in compounds, oiling their vast collections of firearms, and having sex with underage girls.

All of that was really an excuse to point out McEwan’s conclusion, which sensibly notes that salvation, for the faithful and the faithless alike, is going to come (if at all) from the same source. Specifically, from us.

The believers should know in their hearts by now that, even if they are right and there actually is a benign and watchful personal God, he is, as all the daily tragedies, all the dead children attest, a reluctant intervener. The rest of us, in the absence of any evidence to the contrary, know that it is highly improbable that there is anyone up there at all. Either way, in this case it hardly matters who is wrong - there will be no one to save us but ourselves.

Lift your head, unfold your hands and get of your knees. All of that stuff is about as useful as male nipples. Despite an untold multitude of fervent prayers, the levies collapsed in New Orleans, the Rwandan Hutus murdered almost a million Tutsis, and Fox cancelled Firefly. Changing things requires passion, commitment and (above all) hard work. Flinging urgent missives into the sky will not make one jot of difference.

Unless you’re trying to bring about your personal vision of the apocalypse. In that case, keep on praying.

Friend (and fellow slogger through law school) Glomar has canceled her hypothetical subscription to the New Yorker over their recent cover. They’re currently trying to hash out the difference between satire and ham-handed racism at her Livejournal.

A group of activists has successfully challenged regulations passed by the New South Wales government, imposing a $5,500 fine for “annoying” Catholics attending World Youth Day celebrations in Sydney. They argued that the laws infringed on their civil liberties, and three judges of a federal panel agreed with them.

Members of the NoToPope coalition plan to use their newly restored freedom to express their opposition to the church’s medieval stances on contraception and abortion. They’ll try to engage the attendees by handing out condoms, stickers and leaflets.

Sometime this evening, I’ll be installing the newest WordPress build, version 2.6. I’m nobody’s IT professional, so expect the site to be down for a bit, and some kinks to work out once everything is in place.

I managed to update my WordPress install, with far less mucking about than I anticipated. Sometimes, things go better than expected. Praise astronauts.

The misuse of common phrases is something of a pet peeve. I had a friend in high school who, when choosing between two equally attractive alternatives, used to say that it was “six and a half dozen of the other.” I managed to graduate without punching him in the neck, but only because he had a car.

Lately, I’ve notice a lot of people using the phrase “flying under the radar screen.” They take a perfectly good metaphor, jam an unnecessary word up its snout, and render it nonsensical.

“Flying under the radar” works as a metaphor because of the way radar works. Radar systems emit radio or microwave radiation, and use the reflected waves to detect objects. Below a certain elevation, natural and artificial structures prevent the waves from getting to and from the radar. A savvy (and skilled) pilot can fly close enough to the ground that the radar signal can’t get from the emitter to the plane and back to the detector. Thus, “flying under the radar” is an effective way of saying that someone was operating undetected.

On the other hand, “flying under the radar SCREEN” doesn’t mean the same thing. Under the radar screen is a plastic or metal console, a lot of electronics and (probably) the legs of the person monitoring the radar signal. If you’ve flown under the radar screen, you’ve just crashed through the control tower, most likely killing yourself and anyone in the building. Does that sound like “undetected” to you?

Careful use of language allows you to make your point in a colorful and interesting way. Messing up a simple metaphor makes you sound stupid, and puts you on the list for a serious neck-punching. Unless you’re willing to drive me to the beach.