matching tracksuits

The uproar in the Arab world over the drawing of Muhammad in a Danish newspaper shows how little understood freedom of speech is in the Arab world. The New York _Times_ reports,

bq. The Foreign Ministries of Iran and Iraq both summoned Danish diplomats there today to protest the publication last September of the cartoons, which included one depicting Mohammad wearing a turban in the shape of a bomb. Islam strictly forbids depictions of the prophet. (“Source”:http://www.nytimes.com/2006/01/31/international/europe/31cnd-danish.html?_r=1&oref=slogin)

Iran and Iraq are not the first, as the Washington _Post_ reported this morning:

bq. Saudi Arabia has recalled its ambassador from Denmark and Libya has closed its embassy in Copenhagen, the Danish capital. Kuwait called the cartoons “despicable racism.” Iran’s foreign minister termed them “ridiculous and revolting.” (“Source”:http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/01/30/AR2006013001316.html)

To begin with, to call it “racism” is ridiculous. Ethnically insensitive? Perhaps. Religiously intolerant? Maybe. But “racist?” The cartoons do not depict the whole Arab world, just the founder of their religion. It’s hard to qualify that with “just” in their eyes, and I realize in using that term I am pressing my own view on them and then expressing surprise when it doesn’t fit. All the same, it seems to indicate a massive misunderstanding on the part of the Arab world of the relationship between the press and the government in the Western world. The _Post_, again:

bq. As Islamic protests continued over cartoons of the prophet Mohammad in a Danish newspaper, the Danish prime minister defended press freedom in his country today while distancing himself from the newspaper’s decision to publish the drawings.

bq. The remarks of Prime Minister Anders Fogh Rasmussen fell far short of the official apology demanded by an array of Islamic groups and countries that have imposed a remarkable boycott on Danish products.

So because of one newspaper’s decision — indeed, the decision of one editor of one newspaper — the Arab world is waging a “remarkable boycott” against the whole country and demanding an official apology. And what for? A picture, in a newspaper, in a country where the majority of them don’t even live, in a language most of them can’t understand. They can certainly call for the complete extermination of Jews, but don’t let _anyone_ draw a picture of Muhammad.

What would the Arab world have the Danes do? Kill the editor? Execute the cartoonist? Have the president step down and imprisoned?

But what’s this all about? What do the cartoons look like? _The Guardian_ explains,

bq. One drawing depicted the Muhammad wearing a turban shaped as a bomb with a burning fuse, while in another he wielded a sword. (“Source”:http://www.guardian.co.uk/religion/Story/0,,1698673,00.html)

Okay, the implication of the bomb-shaped turban are over the top. But are there not passages in the Koran about wielding a sword — positive passages, even? Are not the majority of suicide bombers Muslim?

Maybe it’s not how Muhammad was depicted, but just that he _was_ depicted. That’s taboo in Islam. So is pork. Why not boycotts about Denmark’s pork consumption?

Idiotic questions, each and every one — but about an idiotic situation.

Zaniedbuje bloga, wiem ale bezgranicznie oddalam sie urzadzaniu naszego mieszkania.

Szyje zaslony, poduszki, w grudniu malowalismy ragaly a prucz tego zwyczajny rytm – praca, dom I nasze coraz

ciekawsze zycie towarzyskie. Czas tak strasznie szybko mi biegnie I ciagle mi go na cos brakuje.

A

wszystko rozpedzilo sie listopadzie, kiedy lokalna galeria przyznala nam miejsce na scianie I postanowilismy

sprobowac sprzedawac nasze zdjecia. Przygotowanie wystawy zajelo nam pol listopada I pierwszy tydzien grudnia.

Wszystkie wieczory I weekendy spedzalismy tnac paspartu, oprawiajac zdjecia I przygotowujac skromna dekoracje

naszej sciany – Koliba. Koliba ruszyla pierwszego grudnia I niestety nie prosperuje zbyt dobrze, do tej pory

sprzedalismy tylk jedno zdjecie. Wiec jak na razie zainwestowalimsy w Kolibe troche pieniedzy i mnostwo czasu a

w zamian pozostaje nam jedynie satysfakcja, ze nasze zdjecia wisza w jednej z bardziej znanych galerii w

centrum miasta.

Pozniej ruszylismy ostro z przygotowaniami swiatecznymi. Ja jak to moja mama mowi umiem

sobie narobic roboty. Wymyslilismy sobie regal na ksiazki I dwa male regaly na plyty kompaktowe. A ze nasze

potrzeby ciagle sa wieksze niz dostepne fundusze kupilismy meble z surowego drewna I sami postanowilismy je

pomalowac. Gary niestety bardzo szybko odpadl z calej imprezy bo po kazdym malowaniu dostawal strasznych bolow

glowy. Zostalam wiec sama z trzema regalami, ktore malowalam w lazience, bo niestety bylo juz za zimno zeby

malowac na balkonie. W lazience miescil sie tylko jeden, wiec malowalam je kolejno, warstwa po warstwie (2 do

czterech warstw koloru i po trzy warstwy lakieru bezbarwnego), dzien po dniu, bo farba musiala schnac

przynajmniej 4 godziny. Wracalismy wiec z pracy, Gary zabieral sie za gotowanie a ja za malowanie i tak w kolko

przez trzy tygodnie a w miedzyczasie przygotowalismy swieta z gruntownym sprzataniem, pieczeniem i gotowaniem –

dokladnie tak jak w domu.

Teraz zabralam sie za okna. Szukalam karniszy, wieszlam polskie firanki,

ktore mama przyslala nam na gwiazdke. Szyje zaslony i poszewki na poduszki pod kolor – generalnie znowu

narobilam sobie roboty.

Faktycznie to wszystko pochlania mi mnustwo czasu i wieczorami przewaznie padam

zmeczona do lozka. Ale warto, po pierwsze swieta byly bardzo udane, i my, i nasi goscie milo spedzilismy czas,

po drugie to wszystko bardzo mnie cieszy i pochlania, planuje, kombinuje, szukam okazji po miescie no i przede

wszystkim nasze mieszkanko wyglada coraz przytulniej. Obydwje stwierdzilimy, ze powoli zaczynamy myslec o tym

mieszkaniu jak o naszym domu.

No a dzisiaj przychodzi do nas Kuba z rodzina. Kube poznalam w lokalnym

rosyjskim sklepie, jest Polakiem, mieszka w Asheville juz kilka lat. Dzisiaj przychodzi ze swoja rodzina na

kolacje. Jestesmy bardzo ciekawi i zony, ktora jest Blugarka i dzieciakow, ktore wychowuja sie w trzyjezycznej

rodzinie.

“The Sysadmin Song”:http://www.deadtroll.com/index2.html?/sysadmin/index.html~content

Why is it people with a strong belief in the literal six-day creation of the world seem to take the notion of evolution so _personally_?

“_I_ didn’t evolve from slime, from monkeys!”

A friend gets a little perturbed when she’s watching something on _Animal Planet_ and evolution is mentioned — as if that completely falsifies anything the particular individual who mentioned the “e word” might have to say.

Of course being offended by it doesn’t make it not true, but that’s beside the point. The point is this: why does where you came from _millions_ of years ago have _any_ affect on your personal value now?

There’s this underlying fear, “If we’re evolved from monkeys, then we can do whatever we want to each other! There is no such thing as rape, murder, etc — it’s all just animal cruelty!”

In this view, humans _cannot_ make values, cannot make meaningful laws. And forgetting the pragmatic side of most laws, these folks promptly jump in their cars and drive to work on the right side (or left, in some countries) of the road…

!/images/63.jpg (Chess — http://www.flickr.com/photos/ohtheclevernessofme/81663715/)! Chess,

from beginning to end, is a game of patterns. Steven Pinker, in _The Blank Slate_, writes that chess

grandmasters are no better than non-players at remembering randomly arranged chess pieces. They rather remember

the patterns of threats, attacks, defenses.

Patterns are the stock and trade of autism. Arranging,

rearranging, obsessing with shapes.

At school I’ve been finding that chess is in fact an excellent

activity for children the higher functioning spectrum of autism. During their choice time, several kids have

taken to playing chess, taught primarily by yours truly. Elementary chess; chess without much “strategy”; with

some kids, chess without all the pieces (minimizing input and thereby confusion) — still, chess all the

same.

Today, much to my surprise, one of the children with more intrusive autism (read: closer to

low-functioning than most of the other children) decided he wanted play with the chess pieces during his choice

time. He knew that they go one to a square, and he’d even picked up from watching the other kids play during

the last few weeks that all the pawns go in front of all the major pieces. Once he’d got them all situated, I

asked him if he’d like me to show him how the back pieces were to be arranged. He readily agreed, and I showed

him: castles (using “rook,” “knight,” etc. was a level of abstraction that I decided was unnecessary) go on the

outside; the horses go next, because they’re riding out of the castles; next we have these tall, funny, pointy

looking pieces; and then the king and queen. I tried to get him to turn the board around and set up the white

pieces, using the black pieces as a model. Nothing going there, and I simply backed off. I returned in a few

minutes to find that he’d done it himself.

Impressive.

But more was to come.

Another young

lad decided to join in the fun, and the two were soon having a blast simply moving the pieces around randomly,

taking with rooks by jumping three pieces at a diagonal, but still obviously grasping the object of the game.

And then the real shock — the first boy put all the pieces back _perfectly_ and they played again.

Once

choice was over, I used the chess pieces and board with the first boy to segue into math, working on which

numbers are bigger. Instead of using the workbook and coloring in blocks of a chart to give a visual for the

young lad, we used the chess board. Once de’d arranged the correct number of pieces on the board, he then

colored in the squares in his workbook, and we had a short little quiz.

“Which number is bigger: six or

eight?” A quick to the chess board or the workbook gave him the necessary help when he wasn’t sure.

By

the time we got to ten (I added two squares on a piece of paper, since a chess board is only eight by eight),

he was carefully arranging the pieces by alternating color and size.

And we continued working, without a

glitch, even when the rest of the class left for the library.