any world …

The Ten Commandments have no business in U.S. courtrooms. They are in stark conflict with the U.S. Constitution and values and have no place in our courthouses or public buildings. A judge cannot follow both the Commandments and the law without violating one or the other.

Of the Commandments, only two can reasonably be described as valid bases for laws: the imprecations against murder and theft.

The first four commandments are clear violations of the religious liberties guaranteed under the Constitution. If a person of Hindu belief were to walk into a courtroom seeking justice and see these commandments, that person could reasonably conclude that his or her beliefs are illegal under the law. This stands in stark contrast to the First Amendment: “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof …”

Commandment 3 breaks the First Amendment guarantee freedom of speech. Commandments 5, 9 and 10 are generally good advice, but probably also fail the First Amendment test.

It’s worth noting that even within Christendom there is no agreement on what the Ten Commandments say. They are never listed as such in the Bible, and they are worded differently in the books of Exodus and Deuteronomy. Protestant and Catholic groups traditionally break them down differently, with the Catholics understandably playing down the part about worshiping idols and graven images.

So if a law were passed requiring the Ten Commandments to be posted in every courtroom, immediate conflict would arise over which version to use. This, incidentally, is exactly why the Founding Fathers believed it wise to keep government out of the religion business, and vice versa.

The Ten Commandments in plain English:
1. You must worship no god except the Jewish/Christian/Muslim god, Yahweh (Jehovah).

2. You will not make or worship idols or graven images, like people of many other religions (not to mention lots of Christians) do.

3. You will not speak god’s name in vain.

4. Remember the Sabbath day (whichever day you happen to believe that is) and keep it holy.

5. Honor your father and your mother.

6. Do not murder (unless the government says it’s OK).

7. Do not commit adultery.

8. Do not steal.

9. Do not lie.

10. Don’t covet other people’s property.

Beijing official: “We are spreading toilet culture. People can listen to gentle music and watch TV. After they use the bathroom they will be very happy.” Read more.

Pics from a rainy Independence Day. The big fireworks were canceled, so we had to make do. All photos taken by cell phone.

Dave

Dave & Shellye

Rob Gouge

Let there be fire …

… and rain …

… and sleep

Here’s how to tell if you’re gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Things I learned today:

* Don’t panic.
* Avoid doing anything stupid or illegal.
* Driving to work is a process.
* If you get a paper cut, you must fill out an accident report form.
* If the building is on fire and you’re asked to evacuate, don’t smoke.
Bonus vocabulary: To Onboard

Mike Daly, Connecticut Post managing editor

For anyone who doesn’t know, today is my last day at the Connecticut Post. It’s a bittersweet departure, as I’ve been there about a decade and have come to think of it as home.

I remember my first day here. It was 1994. I was in my last year of j-school and I had snagged an internship on the business desk. I showed up in a pressed white shirt, tie, a pair of jeans and some Docksiders. I felt pretty spiffy and was still getting myself settled when the editor, Rick Sayers (who in those days looked a lot like Uncle Pennybags from Monopoly) walked up to me.

“Mr. Crowder,” he said, “we don’t wear dungarees at the Connecticut Post.”

He walked off, leaving the words to resonate in my head. Since then, I never again wore dungarees to work, even when I got stuck working on weekends or holidays.

Today, I wore dungarees to work. I enjoy the symmetry of that.

Now I start a new career, working as a communications specialist (i.e., public relations) for the local utility. It’s daunting to set out in a new career path, and a little ironic, since for most of my career I’ve seen PR folks as sellouts or professional adversaries. (I’ve accused many an exiting journo of “crossing over to the Dark Side“; those words have since come back to haunt me.)

You can bet that I won’t wear dungarees on my first day, which is Monday.

My conception of career has never been a straight line to a specific goal, but rather a meandering garden path replete with forks, bumps and the occasional rake threatening to rear up and whack you in the face if you step on it.

I never set out to be a journalist. I took one journalism course during my first attempt at college. When I decided to take a second stab at higher education, I went to an enrollment fair at the local state university and, having decided that I’m a pretty good writer and don’t mind reading, I filled out the enrollment form for would-be English majors.

I was on my way back to the English department booth when I spotted the much smaller booth maintained by journalism department.

“You know?” I said to myself. “That just seems so much more practical.”

I crumpled up the piece of paper in my hand and never looked back.

Until now.

“It is foolish to tear one’s hair in grief, as though sorrow would be made less by baldness.” – Cicero

“If at first you don’t succeed, destroy all evidence that you tried.” – Stephen Wright

“I am not discouraged because every wrong attempt discarded is another step forward.” – Thomas Edison

“If you’re going through hell, keep going.” – Winston Churchill

“Have you ever seen a squonk’s tears? Well look at mine. The people on the streets have all seen better times. Any major dude with half a heart surely would tell you, my friend.” – Steely Dan

I’m an atheist. And sometimes I pray. Weird, huh?

I was raised in an unreligious household. That felt normal to me. Other kids I knew grew up with unquestioning belief in God because that’s what their parents believed. For me it was the opposite. When my parents finally introduced me to the concept, it sounded strange and implausible — just as a godless world sounds strange and implausible to the faithful.

My real introduction to religion came when I was 9 and was accepted into a top-flight boys’ choir at an Episcopal church. They never pushed religion on us, but it’s almost hard not to believe when you’re sitting in the chancel of a century-old church, gazing at the Tiffany windows as Bach’s “Passacaglia & Fugue” thunders from the 4,600-pipe Aeolian-Skinner Organ.

I got myself baptized and confirmed at the Episcopal church, then, shortly after my voice changed, began attending an evangelical church that had a remarkably successful youth program. I went on a retreat, and for a while I believed with a fervor I think is only possible for someone who really wants to believe but isn’t quite sold. Within a year or so the fervor burned itself out. Over the years I toyed with godless New Age hippy spirituality and Buddhism. But eventually I accepted myself for what I am: an atheist. (I still kind of dig Buddhism since it doesn’t really require a belief in God.)

Faith (or faithlessness) is a lot like love: It’s something you simply feel in your gut — whether it plants itself early on and takes root over the years, or suddenly falls down from the heavens when you’re least expecting it. It’s something you know.

So why pray? I pray for my friends, my family, and those dear to me, when they are being tested. I don’t really believe God or some intermediary will intercept my prayers and act on them. But I don’t completely exclude the possibility, either. And it therefore seems selfish to leave open the chance that my loved ones will suffer because of my lack of faith. And I believe that like so many religious rituals — confession, communion — prayer is healthy, no matter what we believe. It may or may not connect us with divinity. But it definitely helps us connect with ourselves, and others.

Finally, someone created a Web site for the three-legged crowd. Bring on the catnip.