Francis Berger's Blog, page 170
January 7, 2019
Beans - Not For Astronauts; My Son's Favorite Commercial
A great thing about having a seven-year-old boy around is you get to revisit a state of mind when something as common and vulgar as flatulence epitomized the pinnacle of humor.
Hence, I give you my son's favorite television commercial, which he somehow managed to find on YouTube when his mother was not looking. Behold the hilarity that is Beans - Not For Astronauts!
Hence, I give you my son's favorite television commercial, which he somehow managed to find on YouTube when his mother was not looking. Behold the hilarity that is Beans - Not For Astronauts!
January 6, 2019
The Postil Magazine
Yesterday I discovered The Postil Magazine has published my blog post Budapest - A City of Overtourism in their current issue (you can see the post here).
"Uniting wisdom with the soul" is how The Postil Magazine describes its overall mission. The magazine itself contains an array of well-written and thought-provoking articles and other writings focusing on religion, history, philosophy, politics, and art. The following information appears on their "About Us" page:
OUR LOGO
Our logo – a tree stump, though cut down, yet sprouting – points to a high truth – that good ideas, though cut down, will sprout and grow again. Truth, like energy, cannot be destroyed.
OUR MOTTO
Our Latin motto – Vivida vis animi –means, “the vigorous strength of the mind, or the vigorous strength of the soul,” since the Latin word, animus, can mean both, “mind” and “soul” – which for us means faith and reason and together. It comes from Lucretius’ De rerum natura, Book I, line 72.
OUR VISION
The mission of The Postil Magazine is to recoup a fading vision of humanity, namely, Classical Humanism, rooted in faith and reason, and best expressed in Judeo-Christianity. In other words, we work for the return of Christendom.
This is also the New Humanism, couched in the great tradition of Erasmus of Rotterdam and Sir Thomas More – deep learning, informed by deep faith.
We seek to feed the mind with good ideas, and good ideas are expressions of a celebratory soul. The West needs reseeding with good ideas because it is in the process of losing its soul.
There is a heavy pall of cultural fatigue smothering the West. It is a true Dark Age, where wisdom is confused with information, truth is problematized as spin, faith is ridiculed as superstition, language is tightly controlled, and reason is shouted down by weaponized emotion.
We recognize that human beings cannot live without ideals, without transcendence, without truth. In effect, there can be no humanity without God.
There is a great hunger for deeper faith, for purer enlightenment, for greater virtue, for sharper reason, and for good ideas. In other words, a hunger for truth.
Our task is to rediscover spiritual and intellectual excellence, as expressed in merit. And it is through excellence that humans achieve their greater, eternal purpose – moral beauty. In this way, civilization is the embodiment of both good ideas and virtue.
Now that is a vision to which I can certainly subscribe!
I warmly thank the editor(s) at The Postil Magazine for including my work in the latest edition of their excellent publication and encourage you to visit their site.
I am sure to become a regular reader of the magazine myself.
"Uniting wisdom with the soul" is how The Postil Magazine describes its overall mission. The magazine itself contains an array of well-written and thought-provoking articles and other writings focusing on religion, history, philosophy, politics, and art. The following information appears on their "About Us" page:
OUR LOGO
Our logo – a tree stump, though cut down, yet sprouting – points to a high truth – that good ideas, though cut down, will sprout and grow again. Truth, like energy, cannot be destroyed.
OUR MOTTO
Our Latin motto – Vivida vis animi –means, “the vigorous strength of the mind, or the vigorous strength of the soul,” since the Latin word, animus, can mean both, “mind” and “soul” – which for us means faith and reason and together. It comes from Lucretius’ De rerum natura, Book I, line 72.
OUR VISION
The mission of The Postil Magazine is to recoup a fading vision of humanity, namely, Classical Humanism, rooted in faith and reason, and best expressed in Judeo-Christianity. In other words, we work for the return of Christendom.
This is also the New Humanism, couched in the great tradition of Erasmus of Rotterdam and Sir Thomas More – deep learning, informed by deep faith.
We seek to feed the mind with good ideas, and good ideas are expressions of a celebratory soul. The West needs reseeding with good ideas because it is in the process of losing its soul.
There is a heavy pall of cultural fatigue smothering the West. It is a true Dark Age, where wisdom is confused with information, truth is problematized as spin, faith is ridiculed as superstition, language is tightly controlled, and reason is shouted down by weaponized emotion.
We recognize that human beings cannot live without ideals, without transcendence, without truth. In effect, there can be no humanity without God.
There is a great hunger for deeper faith, for purer enlightenment, for greater virtue, for sharper reason, and for good ideas. In other words, a hunger for truth.
Our task is to rediscover spiritual and intellectual excellence, as expressed in merit. And it is through excellence that humans achieve their greater, eternal purpose – moral beauty. In this way, civilization is the embodiment of both good ideas and virtue.
Now that is a vision to which I can certainly subscribe!
I warmly thank the editor(s) at The Postil Magazine for including my work in the latest edition of their excellent publication and encourage you to visit their site.
I am sure to become a regular reader of the magazine myself.
January 4, 2019
Illustrating Population Decline in Most Western Countries Through The Example of My Family
Much has been spoken and written regarding the demographic disaster most developed, modern countries in the West are currently facing, but the issue is an abstract one for most people and does not seem to garner too much concern. Rather than rattle on about the myriad of negative effects low birth rates and sub-replacement fertility phenomenon will surely cause in the near, mid, and long-term, or elaborate on the underlying reasons, I thought it might be interesting to simply illustrate the extent of population decline through the example of my own family beginning with my two sets of grandparents (whom I have labelled as great-grandparents) and working down from there. I am in the grandchildren generation.
One thing you should keep in mind as you glance at the figures below is this - replacement fertility is pegged at 2.1 children per woman, which is considered the absolute minimum to prevent social and economic decline.
Paternal great-grandparents 2
Children 3
Grandchildren 6
Great-grandchildren 8
The paternal side of my family starts off fine. The great-grandparents had three children, which is above the 2.1 threshold. Their three children, one of which is my father, had a combined total of six offspring, which misses the replacement fertility mark by 0.6 if you total it. Though this is suboptimal, it is fairly close to what the bare minimum should be. Now, the "grandchildren" category have had a total of eight kids and it is unlikely anyone in that category will have any more. The replacement fertility number should be 12.6 children for those six individuals, yet my generation on the paternal side managed only 8, which is 4.6 fewer children than are required to maintain a stable population.
Unfortunately, the data on my maternal side is even grimmer.
Maternal great-grandparents 2
Children 4
Grandchildren 8
Great-grandchildren 3
Once again, the "children" generation missed the replacement fertility level by a fraction, but at least they managed to have two offspring for every couple, but look at what has occurred after that. The "grandchildren" generation would have needed 16.8 offspring to maintain replacement fertility levels. On my maternal side, my seven cousins and I have managed three children between the eight of us, and more births are highly unlikely here. Essentially, my generation on the maternal side had 13.8 fewer offspring than would be required maintain healthy replacement levels. Think about that for a moment. 13.8 fewer children! That's a soccer team, for crying out loud!
The combined number of individuals in the "grandchildren" generation on both sides of my family equals fourteen. Their combined offspring in the "great-grandchildren" category totals eleven. My generation should have had nearly thirty children to maintain healthy fertility levels. Instead, we had eleven - barely more than a third of what is considered the minimum. If I have calculated this properly, this means that the fertility rate for my generation was a mere 1.2, or nearly half of what would have been required to maintain replacement levels in society!
1.2 rather than the minimum 2.1!
I must admit, that really hits home. What makes it all even more alarming is the knowledge that my family probably represents the norm in most Western countries.
Note: I am not a demographic statistician, so I may not have used the terms above correctly, but I believe the numbers are accurate all the same.
Illustrating Population Decline Through The Example of My Family
Much has been spoken and written regarding the demographic disaster most developed, modern countries in the West are currently facing, but the issue is an abstract one for most people and does not seem to garner too much concern. Rather than rattle on about the myriad of negative effects low birth rates and sub-replacement fertility phenomenon will surely cause in the near, mid, and long-term, or elaborate on the underlying reasons, I thought it might be interesting to simply illustrate the extent of population decline through the example of my own family beginning with my two sets of grandparents (whom I have labelled as great-grandparents) and working down from there. I am in the grandchildren generation.
One thing you should keep in mind as you glance at the figures below is this - replacement fertility is pegged at 2.1 children per woman, which is considered the absolute minimum to prevent social and economic decline.
Paternal great-grandparents 2
Children 3
Grandchildren 6
Great-grandchildren 8
The paternal side of my family starts off fine. The great-grandparents had three children, which is above the 2.1 threshold. Their three children, one of which is my father, had a combined total of six offspring, which misses the replacement fertility mark by 0.3. Though this is not optimal, it is fairly close to what the bare minimum should be. Now, the "grandchildren" category have had a total of eight kids and it is unlikely anyone in that category will have any more. The replacement fertility number should be 12.6 children for those six individuals, yet my generation on the paternal side managed only 8, which is 4.6 fewer children than are required to maintain a stable population.
Unfortunately, the data on my maternal side is even grimmer.
Maternal great-grandparents 2
Children 4
Grandchildren 8
Great-grandchildren 3
Once again, the "children" generation missed the replacement fertility level by a fraction, but at least they managed to have two offspring for every couple, but look at what has occurred after that. The "grandchildren" generation would have needed 16.8 offspring to maintain replacement fertility levels. On my maternal side, my seven cousins and I have managed three children between the eight of us, and more births are highly unlikely here. Essentially, my generation on the maternal side had 13.8 fewer offspring than would be required maintain healthy replacement levels. Think about that for a moment. 13.8 fewer children! That's a soccer team, for crying out loud!
The combined number of individuals in the "grandchildren" generation on both sides of my family equals fourteen. Their combined offspring in the "great-grandchildren" category totals eleven. My generation should have had nearly thirty children to maintain healthy fertility levels. Instead, we had eleven - barely more than a third of what is considered the minimum. If I have calculated this properly, this means that the fertility rate for my generation was a mere 1.2, or nearly half of what would have been required to maintain replacement levels in society!
1.2 rather than the minimum 2.1!
I must admit, that really hits home. What makes it all even more alarming is the knowledge that my family probably represents the norm in most Western countries.
Note: I am not a demographic statistician, so I may not have used the terms above correctly, but I believe the numbers are accurate all the same.
Destiny - The Main Reason I Moved to Hungary
Hungarians often ask me why I decided to move to Hungary from North America. Many cannot comprehend why someone born in the United States, raised in Canada, with equal access to both countries would choose to leave them both behind in favor of living in a small village near the Austrian border in western Hungary. In all fairness, I can understand why they are puzzled. Many Hungarians still view the United States and Canada as promised lands, countries people have historically emigrated to in an effort to improve their lives and the lives of their children. My parents did just that in 1970 when they escaped communist Hungary and eventually found refuge in America where I was born. Why then would I choose to move back to the country my parents had left in order to give me a chance at a better life? This question is both easy and difficult to answer, for the reasons behind my move are many, but I will address it by focusing on what I consider the key element behind my midlife choice to relocate myself and my family to my ancestral country. That key element is destiny.
I have always felt a loose affinity for Hungary, but my parents recollections of communist Hungary and my experiences visiting the country when it was still under socialist rule were enough to inform me, even at a young age, that my parents had made the right choice in leaving. Back then Canada was still the kind of country people from humble origins like my father and mother – a chef and a waitress respectively – could get ahead materially if they were dedicated and hardworking. Though both held what can be considered lower middle-class jobs, they managed to create a respectable amount of wealth through real estate investments, ensuring a comfortable middle class existence for my sister and me. Though my maternal grandparents were quite skilled at making money even under the boot of communism, most of my relatives in Hungary had no such opportunities at the time. Hence, until 1989, I regarded Hungary as the old country, the place of my ancestors, but no place I to which I would ever go to live.
This all began to change in 1989, the year communism essentially collapsed in Hungary. In the following years I began to experience a strange feeling – a tug of sorts. An internal voice kept telling me I needed to go to Hungary and explore opportunities there. Being only eighteen when these feeling began, I was far too inexperienced and immature to regard them with any seriousness. Besides, I was enrolled in university and working on building up a life in Canada. What possible reason would I have to move to Hungary? I would ask myself this question every time I heard that lulling voice whisper softly from somewhere within my soul. To assuage the voice, I made frequent trips to Hungary to visit relatives, but these visits had an opposite effect. Rather than mollify the strange yearning to move to the old country, my frequent visits only intensified the mysterious desire to leave North America and move to Hungary. I continued to dismiss the voice by providing what I considered rational reasons for remaining in Canada.
For the most part I considered the desire to move to Hungary to be nothing more than a romantic notion, youthful exuberance for adventure ungrounded in logic or reason, and I did my best to ignore it as I continued my attempts to build a future for myself in Canada. Though I thought I was doing the right thing at the time, in hindsight what I was actually doing was turning my back on my destiny. Now many will scoff after reading this, but I believe what I have stated to be true. Whether we accept it or not, we all have individual destinies – broad, general paths upon which we must travel. Refusing to accept your path of destiny leads to dissatisfaction, misery, and trouble. I learned this through much of my mid-twenties and thirties, those fifteen years during which I simply rejected the idea that part of my destiny was to live in Hungary. This rejection resulted in a decade-and-a-half of being in the wrong places doing the wrong things. Though I managed to accumulate vital and meaningful skills and experiences during this time, I mostly regard that decade-and-a-half a pointless uphill slog. Everything felt forced, artificial, sub-optimal during those years. Yet, I continued to fight the desire to move to Hungary with every shred of logic and pragmatism I could muster. I withstood the siege until 2015, and then I finally threw in the towel, put my family on an airplane, and moved to Hungary after accepting a position at the University of Sopron.
Nearly four years have passed since then. The voice that had plagued me for the better part of two decades has fallen silent. For the first time in my life, I truly feel I am in the right place at the right time doing the right things. Life has become more meaningful than it ever was in the past. Though I do not know what the specifics of my individual destiny ultimately are, I know I will only be able to find them here and nowhere else.
And that is the main reason why I decided to move to Hungary.
Now the question is, how do I communicate this comprehensibly to a curious Hungarian?
Or anyone else for that matter?
I have always felt a loose affinity for Hungary, but my parents recollections of communist Hungary and my experiences visiting the country when it was still under socialist rule were enough to inform me, even at a young age, that my parents had made the right choice in leaving. Back then Canada was still the kind of country people from humble origins like my father and mother – a chef and a waitress respectively – could get ahead materially if they were dedicated and hardworking. Though both held what can be considered lower middle-class jobs, they managed to create a respectable amount of wealth through real estate investments, ensuring a comfortable middle class existence for my sister and me. Though my maternal grandparents were quite skilled at making money even under the boot of communism, most of my relatives in Hungary had no such opportunities at the time. Hence, until 1989, I regarded Hungary as the old country, the place of my ancestors, but no place I to which I would ever go to live.
This all began to change in 1989, the year communism essentially collapsed in Hungary. In the following years I began to experience a strange feeling – a tug of sorts. An internal voice kept telling me I needed to go to Hungary and explore opportunities there. Being only eighteen when these feeling began, I was far too inexperienced and immature to regard them with any seriousness. Besides, I was enrolled in university and working on building up a life in Canada. What possible reason would I have to move to Hungary? I would ask myself this question every time I heard that lulling voice whisper softly from somewhere within my soul. To assuage the voice, I made frequent trips to Hungary to visit relatives, but these visits had an opposite effect. Rather than mollify the strange yearning to move to the old country, my frequent visits only intensified the mysterious desire to leave North America and move to Hungary. I continued to dismiss the voice by providing what I considered rational reasons for remaining in Canada.
For the most part I considered the desire to move to Hungary to be nothing more than a romantic notion, youthful exuberance for adventure ungrounded in logic or reason, and I did my best to ignore it as I continued my attempts to build a future for myself in Canada. Though I thought I was doing the right thing at the time, in hindsight what I was actually doing was turning my back on my destiny. Now many will scoff after reading this, but I believe what I have stated to be true. Whether we accept it or not, we all have individual destinies – broad, general paths upon which we must travel. Refusing to accept your path of destiny leads to dissatisfaction, misery, and trouble. I learned this through much of my mid-twenties and thirties, those fifteen years during which I simply rejected the idea that part of my destiny was to live in Hungary. This rejection resulted in a decade-and-a-half of being in the wrong places doing the wrong things. Though I managed to accumulate vital and meaningful skills and experiences during this time, I mostly regard that decade-and-a-half a pointless uphill slog. Everything felt forced, artificial, sub-optimal during those years. Yet, I continued to fight the desire to move to Hungary with every shred of logic and pragmatism I could muster. I withstood the siege until 2015, and then I finally threw in the towel, put my family on an airplane, and moved to Hungary after accepting a position at the University of Sopron.
Nearly four years have passed since then. The voice that had plagued me for the better part of two decades has fallen silent. For the first time in my life, I truly feel I am in the right place at the right time doing the right things. Life has become more meaningful than it ever was in the past. Though I do not know what the specifics of my individual destiny ultimately are, I know I will only be able to find them here and nowhere else.
And that is the main reason why I decided to move to Hungary.
Now the question is, how do I communicate this comprehensibly to a curious Hungarian?
Or anyone else for that matter?
January 3, 2019
Green Christmas, White Epiphany?
Though Christmas Day has come and gone, I still consider these days as part of the Christmas season, which for me officially end after the celebration of Epiphany, or Three Kings Day, on January 6. Christmas Day was a green one for us this year, but it looks like Epiphany will be white. Better late than never, I suppose!
January 2, 2019
The Joy of Buying Locally (Especially Wine)
"Buy local" was a sentiment I heard often when I lived in North America, and while I inherently found the notion agreeable even before it got crammed into the cornucopia of trendy, hippie-dippie nonsense like the tiny house movement, I generally found it difficult to purchase locally while I lived in Canada and the United States. On one hand, the sheer dimensions of what could be considered local in North America where often mind-boggling - for example, an apple orchard eighty kilometers from your home could still qualify as local. On the other hand, local producers of anything were often difficult to locate in the suburban wastelands that make up so much of the North American landscape. The odd times I was able to find local producers - be it vegetables, fruit, honey, handicrafts, or anything else for that matter - I found, to my dismay, that these producers had adopted a Disneyesque business model that transformed something as simple as picking your own fruit into something resembling a theme park complete with entrance fees(!), overcrowding, jammed parking lots, idiotic mascots, rides, amusements, kitschy decor, and extremely high prices. Suffice it to say, my motivation to buy locally diminished significantly after a few of these kinds of experiences.
Luckily, buying locally in the true sense of the phrase still exists in Hungary. That is not to say that amusement-park style fruit-picking adventure parks cannot be found here - they can, but luckily they are mostly found near Budapest. Here in western Hungary, buying locally remains traditional and low-key. The region in which I live is particulary blessed agriculturally, meaning I can purchase an amazing variety of produce within a ten-kilometer radius of my home. In fact, I can find a considerable number of great products in the small village in which I reside.
With a population of only 650, Fertőendréd has two beekeepers, a slew of vegetable and fruit producers, and a winery. Yes, a winery! I discovered that a local family named Ács owns a vineyard in the village and that two adult brothers from family recently decided to bottle and sell the wine made from the grapes they harvest. Though kékfrankos (blue Frankish) is the trademark wine of the region, I prefer the whites, with ottonel muscat being my favorite. Lucky for me, the Ács brothers make a splended ottonel muscat and sell it for a price well below what most retailers charge for the same wine.
The truly special thing about this locally-made wine is its flavor - whenever I sample it, I feel as if I am drinking the very essence of the landscape I have come to know and love.
Luckily, buying locally in the true sense of the phrase still exists in Hungary. That is not to say that amusement-park style fruit-picking adventure parks cannot be found here - they can, but luckily they are mostly found near Budapest. Here in western Hungary, buying locally remains traditional and low-key. The region in which I live is particulary blessed agriculturally, meaning I can purchase an amazing variety of produce within a ten-kilometer radius of my home. In fact, I can find a considerable number of great products in the small village in which I reside.
With a population of only 650, Fertőendréd has two beekeepers, a slew of vegetable and fruit producers, and a winery. Yes, a winery! I discovered that a local family named Ács owns a vineyard in the village and that two adult brothers from family recently decided to bottle and sell the wine made from the grapes they harvest. Though kékfrankos (blue Frankish) is the trademark wine of the region, I prefer the whites, with ottonel muscat being my favorite. Lucky for me, the Ács brothers make a splended ottonel muscat and sell it for a price well below what most retailers charge for the same wine.
The truly special thing about this locally-made wine is its flavor - whenever I sample it, I feel as if I am drinking the very essence of the landscape I have come to know and love.
January 1, 2019
What is So Surprising About the Depravity of the Elite?
Media coverage shedding light on the depravity of the elite was rather extensive in 2018. With each passing week, some "shocking" revelation concerning the sexual degeneracy of some celebrity, politician, banker, or other card-carrying elite club member was splashed across the headlines, talk shows, and internet sites. I did not pay much attention to the details of these stories, but I found the shock they caused rather dismaying. Are people really so trusting and naive to assume that the vast majority of what consitutes the elite are moral, righteous, and pure?
I have never completed any sort of empirical research on the subject of the elite and degeneracy. I never felt the need to. To me it was always sort of a given, something you could at least generally intuit and state with confidence as a probable truth. Which is why I find the shocked reactions of so many so baffling and disturbing.
I touch upon the degeneracy of the elite in my novel The City of Earthly Desire. In the scene below, crime boss Viktor Vilinovich recruits Suzys into his army of young women who secretly visit the global elite to procure favors for Vilinovich. This was not based on any concrete research - rather a hunch at how business gets done in many cases:
___________________________________________________________________________________________
"The world is full of men with shiny shoes and parted-hair: politicians, bankers, judges, lawyers, diplomats. These men are no better than rats. Unfortunately, you have to deal with them if you want anything done. They are the gatekeepers and toll-collectors. On the surface they present themselves as moral, upstanding citizens who work for the people. They have wives and families, but when the eye of the world turns away from them for a few minutes, they are quick to indulge their passions. I know this and use it to my advantage. I feed their lust to unlock their gates and pay their tolls."
“You have an army of whores here in the city to do that.”
“You are quite famous now. Many of these men are aware of you. They’ve seen you in the magazines; watched you in the videos. They desire you. Some have even inquired about you.”
“You want to pimp me out to politicians and bankers?”
“For each gate you unlock, I will pay you five thousand dollars.”
The sum made Suzy’s forehead tremor slightly. The offer appealed to her on several levels. It gave her the chance to make a substantial amount of money on the side. It also provided her an outlet through which she could secretly avenge herself on Béla. She licked her top lip playfully and smiled.
“And when would you want me to start?”
“Soon. There’s a Hungarian politician who refuses to listen to my offers concerning a factory I want to purchase. I recently discovered he is an admirer of yours.”
Note: I detest the term "elite" to describe the vast majority of those occupying the top positions in politics, finance, industry, media, and the arts because in many cases they do not display ANY sort of superiority in terms of ability or qualities when compared to the rest of a group or society.
I have never completed any sort of empirical research on the subject of the elite and degeneracy. I never felt the need to. To me it was always sort of a given, something you could at least generally intuit and state with confidence as a probable truth. Which is why I find the shocked reactions of so many so baffling and disturbing.
I touch upon the degeneracy of the elite in my novel The City of Earthly Desire. In the scene below, crime boss Viktor Vilinovich recruits Suzys into his army of young women who secretly visit the global elite to procure favors for Vilinovich. This was not based on any concrete research - rather a hunch at how business gets done in many cases:
___________________________________________________________________________________________
"The world is full of men with shiny shoes and parted-hair: politicians, bankers, judges, lawyers, diplomats. These men are no better than rats. Unfortunately, you have to deal with them if you want anything done. They are the gatekeepers and toll-collectors. On the surface they present themselves as moral, upstanding citizens who work for the people. They have wives and families, but when the eye of the world turns away from them for a few minutes, they are quick to indulge their passions. I know this and use it to my advantage. I feed their lust to unlock their gates and pay their tolls."
“You have an army of whores here in the city to do that.”
“You are quite famous now. Many of these men are aware of you. They’ve seen you in the magazines; watched you in the videos. They desire you. Some have even inquired about you.”
“You want to pimp me out to politicians and bankers?”
“For each gate you unlock, I will pay you five thousand dollars.”
The sum made Suzy’s forehead tremor slightly. The offer appealed to her on several levels. It gave her the chance to make a substantial amount of money on the side. It also provided her an outlet through which she could secretly avenge herself on Béla. She licked her top lip playfully and smiled.
“And when would you want me to start?”
“Soon. There’s a Hungarian politician who refuses to listen to my offers concerning a factory I want to purchase. I recently discovered he is an admirer of yours.”
Note: I detest the term "elite" to describe the vast majority of those occupying the top positions in politics, finance, industry, media, and the arts because in many cases they do not display ANY sort of superiority in terms of ability or qualities when compared to the rest of a group or society.
December 31, 2018
Some Planned Reading and Rereading for 2019
I do not make resolutions on New Year's Eve, but I do inevitably take a moment to reflect upon the year that has passed and examine some areas of my life I may have neglected and could improve. One such area is reading. As I mentioned in earlier post, I have been an extremely poor reader in the last two or three years, averaging about six or seven books a year. Now, I refuse to set concrete reading goals, but I have decided that I certainly need to get back to reading more. Thus, I have decided to reinvest time and energy into a pursuit that was once as natural and effortless for me as breathing. Here is a partial list of a few books I would like to read or reread in the coming months:
Dostoevsky - The Brothers Karamozov; Demons
Dickens - David Copperfield
The New Testament, especially the Gospel of John
Eliot - Middlemarch, Silas Marner
St. Augustine - The City of God
Marcus Aurelius - Meditations
Christopher Dawson - some work or other
Sándor Márai - a novel or two in the original Hungarian
Bulgakov - Master and Margerita (in Hungarian)
Hungarian poetry - no specific authors or works determined yet
That should be good for a start. The rest I will leave up to fate.
Dostoevsky - The Brothers Karamozov; Demons
Dickens - David Copperfield
The New Testament, especially the Gospel of John
Eliot - Middlemarch, Silas Marner
St. Augustine - The City of God
Marcus Aurelius - Meditations
Christopher Dawson - some work or other
Sándor Márai - a novel or two in the original Hungarian
Bulgakov - Master and Margerita (in Hungarian)
Hungarian poetry - no specific authors or works determined yet
That should be good for a start. The rest I will leave up to fate.
December 30, 2018
Jon Jones Dominates - Nunes Destroys
Well, my hopes were dashed - Jones emerged victorious, and decidedly so. As I wrote yesterday, I had a feeling Jon Jones would win, but I still held out some hope that Gustafsson might pull one out of the bag. I guess the only question now is what's next for the Mauler? This was his third failed championship bid, and it seems highly unlikely he will get a shot at a fourth at any time in the near future.
In any event, the most exciting match at UFC 232 was definitely the co-main event match between Cris Justino and Amanda Nunes. The punching power Nunes brings into the octagon is truly something to behold.
In any event, the most exciting match at UFC 232 was definitely the co-main event match between Cris Justino and Amanda Nunes. The punching power Nunes brings into the octagon is truly something to behold.
