Kirk (the okay one)

@wallofbooks

Former pastor, current philosophy instructor, perpetual Star Trek guy. Autistic and loving it. Dad of the world’s funniest trans kid.

293 Folgt436 Follower758 Posts

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Ist das dein Profil?Übernimm es — dann gehört dir wallofbooks.dirty.social.Profil übernehmen

Kirk (the okay one)@wallofbooks· 21d

What’s your sign?

Kirk (the okay one)@wallofbooks· 24d

What’s left of tropical storm Bertha is hitting the Texas Gulf Coast and Emmy would like to register a complaint with the appropriate authorities.

Kirk (the okay one)@wallofbooks· 25d

Thinking tonight about the horrors of the conservative Christian view of hell, as one does, and wrote up a little 1000-word story I’m calling “The Thing That Once Was Ava.” Rough draft, I’m not a pro, read at your own risk, etc.

“What! is God glorified in the damnation of the wise and prudent? Yes, tremendous fact! At the winding up of this world’s drama, God will be glorified in the men that shut their eyes against his grace, as well as in the men whose eyes are opened to receive it. The yells of hell shall be but the deep bass of the everlasting music of which the songs in heaven are the air.”

Charles Spurgeon
“Even So, Father!”
May 26, 1861

Time no longer has meaning. There is only the endless now, the constant terrible moment. But if we supposed that time did still exist, and we measured the duration of this moment, we could say that thing-once-known-as-Ava had suffered, so far, 228,596,351,301 seconds—just under 7244 years. It has been sentenced to a term of infinity, and eventually these first 7244 years of torment will seem just as short and insignificant as the 27 years it lived in flesh before the great transition.

The human Ava was born to parents who loved her and wanted her: a mother who tucked her in at night, caressed her hair and sang her to sleep; a father who listened without judgment and could keep a secret. They were gentle and thoughtful parents. They were also pointedly indifferent to faith. Julie, the mother, had memories of doing coloring sheets while the preacher droned on at her grandma’s church, but no thoughts or attachments beyond that. Scott, the father, believed that religion was a consolation prize for people who didn’t have the skill or determination to be successful in life. He raised Ava to focus on what mattered: the things you can see and feel right now, the things that added more digits to your bank account. Ava listened. At age 12, she went to robotics camp. At 16, she was vice-president of the Future CEOs Club at her school. At 18, she graduated high school as the salutatorian.

As expected, Ava went to a good university and got good grades. She earned a good internship at a company that gave her a good job after graduation. She made good money, fell in love with a good man, and lived in a good apartment in the good part of a good city. She was beginning to think about a master’s degree, or maybe a wedding, or maybe a baby, or maybe—why not?—all three. But then a drunk driver sped through a red light and into Ava’s very good car. In spite of the seatbelt and airbags, and in spite of the best efforts of the EMTs, Ava’s mortal body died, surrounded by horrified strangers who carried the trauma of that scene with them for years afterward.

The-thing-once-known-as-Ava doesn’t really remember being human. The human portion of its life is now .37% of the span of its total existence. It experiences a flash every now and then: a gentle face, a feeling of security, the opening notes of a lullaby. It doesn’t remember names. Names don’t matter here. It doesn’t even know its own name anymore. Names are for beings who are in relationship with others. The thing-that-was-once-Ava has no one, never will have anyone again.

It’s not here because of any particular wrong thing human Ava did. Her life was no more flawed or evil than the standard human life. Ava-the-human had been, in fact, a fairly kind and helpful person. She remembered birthdays at work. She participated in blood drives. Once, she bought a box of diapers and two cans of infant formula for the girl in front of her at the grocery store, whose credit card had been declined. That’s the kind of person Ava was. And yet—maybe she could be a little gossipy. Her desire for financial security might have crossed the line into greed. She definitely did not wait until marriage to enjoy sex. Her record was not perfect, so the thing-that-once-was-Ava is here now. That’s the price of imperfection. This fate can only be avoided by faith in the Redeemer.

Many people who lived horrifying lives—violent, harmful, murderous people—are spending their eternity in unending joy, because of such faith. One of them is Melanie, who tearfully repented of her indulgence and recklessness after watching Ava’s broken body pulled from the wreckage of the crash she caused. Melanie held onto faith until her own death, decades later. She still has a name. 
From time to time, Ava-the-human had considered the question of faith. Maybe, she thought, she should visit the quaint little church in her neighborhood. She saw their Easter fliers in her mailbox each year. She noticed the events posted on the church marquee: Christmas Eve service, Vacation Bible School, a Women of Faith Conference. Sometimes the idea of it seemed intriguing. But there were reports to submit and meetings to attend and groceries to buy. The days filled up, again and again. Faith seemed to her to be something she could figure out when she was older, when life slowed down.

The-thing-that-once-was-Ava has no way to know this, but if human Ava had lived until 34, everything would be different. At 30, she would have married that good man. At 31, she would have had a baby. At 32, a new friend she would have made in her “Mommy and Me” infant swim class would have invited her to church, and at 33, after making still more friends in a Bible study group, Ava-the-human would have confessed her faith in Jesus and continued in faith for the rest of her life.  It’s probably best that the thing can’t know this.

For a few hundred years, the thing felt regret. For a few thousand, it felt sorrow. Rage lasted longer. But now, for the most part, it feels only pain. The last vestiges of sanity slipped away long ago. Nothing can remain sane in the face of endless torture. It has no identity. It has no will. It has no thoughts. It is only a receptacle for pain, and that is all it will be, forever and ever, world without end, to the glory of God.

Kirk (the okay one)@wallofbooks· Jul 17

It’s a tied between Twisted and Fair Game, although for the latter my cousin and I were the only people in the theater and we had a lot of fun openly mocking how bad it was.

Kirk (the okay one)@wallofbooks· Jul 15

My dog has a very poor understanding of personal space

A moderately cute Labrador mix is lying atop a dashingly handsome man, completely obscuring his face. The dog clearly has boundary issues.

Kirk (the okay one)@wallofbooks· Jun 12

A trolley problem image showing a choice between the trillionaire or all the billionaires, except in this one the path immediately loops back so that both groups are run over.

Kirk (the okay one)@wallofbooks· Jun 4

What’s your favourite Odyssey adaptation? Wrong answers only

The poster for the 1977 classic film Smokey and the Bandit,” featuring Jackie Gleason, as a sheriff, glowering at a smirking Burt Reynolds, while Sally Field, in a wedding dress, smiles beatifically in the background. In the foreground, Bandit’s Trans Am races away from the sheriff’s squad car.

Kirk (the okay one)@wallofbooks· Jun 3

Donna Reed smiling on a phone call as Jimmy Stewart glowers behind her in *It’s a Wonderful Life*

Kirk (the okay one)@wallofbooks· May 23

Using these to text my kids

A Star Trek title screen that reads “go walk the dog”

A Star Trek the next generation title screen that reads “it’s about time you had a shower“

A DS9 title screen that reads “homework first, then games“

A Star Trek: Voyager title screen that reads “go to bed; it’s a school night“

Kirk (the okay one)@wallofbooks· May 15

It’s an image of six different Care Bears

Kirk (the okay one)@wallofbooks· May 13

Emmy has the midday lazies

A very lazy dog, lying on a bed. She’s mainly lab, with maybe a little chow, giving her pointy, semi-upright ears.

Kirk (the okay one)@wallofbooks· May 8

When you design shirts but can’t read music.

It’s a T-shirt for sale labeled “what the F musical note T-shirt“, but the note depicted on the shirt is actually an E

Kirk (the okay one)@wallofbooks· Apr 29

Got someone else’s fortune again

A slip from a fortune cookie that says “your hopeful nature will be handsomely rewarded“

Kirk (the okay one)@wallofbooks· Apr 20

In that bit she she mentions Bridge to Terebithia was one of the things that hurt her as a child, and the author should send her an apology. A few days ago, Taylor posted this in her socials.

Kirk (the okay one)@wallofbooks· Mar 17

Bob Newhart (from the TV show NEWHART) taking on a white landline phone

Colin Farrell in the movie PHONE BOOTH, talking on a black landline phone in a phone booth. He’s clearly quite distressed.

Kirk (the okay one)@wallofbooks· Mar 15

Search your camera roll for hell

Incoming text:
“Your package address is incorrect, please update it in time for smooth delivery.”

Response:
666 Go To Hell
Scammer Avenue,
Hell, 66666

Kirk (the okay one)@wallofbooks· Mar 12

Poster for the 1999 Chinese film “Postmen in the Mountains”

Kirk (the okay one)@wallofbooks· Mar 10

Post your favorite Lord of the Rings character. Wrong answers only.

An image only nerds with gray hair might recognize: two of the dancers from the video for Leonard Nimoy’s “Ballad of Bilbo Baggins,” shot in 1968. (Young white women, one brunette, one blonde, smiling and wearing orange sweatshirts with a black design that looks something like a circular portal. The picture is very blurry, due to mandatory pixel-rationing during the Vietnam War.)

Kirk (the okay one)@wallofbooks· Feb 27

I think this is exactly right. I mocked this mindset in a comment I made in on MetaFilter almost 14 years ago.

Look people, I'm not "white," "heterosexual," or "male." I'm just NORMAL. I am a NORMAL person. And I resent you NOT-NORMAL people assigning labels to me. There don't need to be any words to describe who I am because I am NORMAL. Why is that so hard to understand?

Kirk (the okay one)@wallofbooks· Feb 25

My editor’s notes on my current writing project are kind of rude and annoying. (I am my editor.)

The facts and analysis are fine, but rewrite this entire thing.

Kirk (the okay one)@wallofbooks· Feb 16

You don’t need to assume. It’s right there in the text.

Kirk (the okay one)@wallofbooks· Feb 16

Display an album that was important to you when you were nineteen. I don’t even know how I wound up buying this album. At the time I was an earnest Bible major who only listened to Christian music. But here’s an intense, gifted pastor’s kid with Something To Say. I listened over and over.

The album cover for “Little Earthquakes” by Tori Amos.

Kirk (the okay one)@wallofbooks· Feb 11

Post a tree you photographed

Kirk (the okay one)@wallofbooks· Feb 11

*6th But, still a major city and, yes, Abbott won’t say a word against it.

Kirk (the okay one)@wallofbooks· Feb 2

This is who runs this account

A picture of a toddler, c. 1974, wearing jeans, a blue shirt, cowboy boots that rise to the top of his thighs, and a large (relative to his head) black cowboy hat.

Kirk (the okay one)@wallofbooks· Jan 22

Kirk (the okay one)@wallofbooks· Jan 10

Kirk (the okay one)@wallofbooks· Jan 8

Fra Angelica’s painting of the crucifixion, with a speech bubble added of a man saying “This is what happens when you don’t obey authorities.”

Kirk (the okay one)@wallofbooks· Jan 6

It’s always a good day to read Martha Nussbaum. (This is from the introduction to *For Love of Country?*, written in the aftermath of the September 11th attacks.)

And worse: our sense that the "us" is all that matters can easily flip over into a demonizing of an imagined "them," a group of outsiders who are imagined as enemies of the invulnerability and the pride of the all-important "us." Compassion for our fellow Americans can all too easily slide over into an attitude that wants America to come out on top, defeating or subordinating other peoples or nations. Anger at the terrorists themselves is perfectly appropriate; so is the attempt to bring them to justice. But "us-them" thinking doesn't always stay focused on the original issue; it too easily becomes a general call for American supremacy, the humiliation of "the other."

Kirk (the okay one)@wallofbooks· Dec 29

Merry Christmas to me.