Inspired. Absolute. Final.

There is a billboard on the New Jersey Turnpike right around exit 8A.  Near the split going north.  It could actually be around exit 10.  Or 13.  I have no idea since it eventually blends in with all the other billboards which are advertising more earthly needs.  Such as lawyers who can beat any DUI charge and some guy who will clean anybody's gutters for only $199.99, no matter the size of the house.

This billboard is an advertisement for The Holy Bible.  It doesn't really specify New or Old because, I imagine, that would be too much information to digest while cruising along at 77 mph.  When it comes to billboards on the NJ turnpike the copy better be concise and easy to process because the drivers have more important things to concentrate on.  Like trying to avoid being rear ended by the bullies in their Cadillac Escalades who tailgate you so close you can't see their headlights if you aren't doing 85 in the fast lane.  The sign does a good job of getting your attention.  Even at 77 mph there is no question that they are indeed talking about the Bible of Yahweh.  As opposed to say "The Saltwater Fisherman's Bible" of which I also happen to own a copy.   It might seem superfluous that the publisher of the number one selling book of all time has to pay for billboard advertising.  But even the most popular brands in the world, like Coke and McDonalds still have very hefty marketing budgets to beat out the competition.  That's how they stay so prominent.  Coke has Pepsi to compete against, McDonalds has Burger King breathing down its neck, and the Bible has what, The Origin of Species by Charles Darwin?

Any book with the word bible in the title, we must assume, is basically a users manual.  Like "The Bible of Digital Photography".  And fundamentally, the Bible is The users manual for the human race.  At least the westernized half.  And furthermore, it has become the prevailing view of the Christian Right that most of us have not RTFM.  That's why they feel the need to advertise it on the NJ Turnpike.  A perfect metaphor for the Road to Hell. We are all so busy rushing through our lives that we barely give any thought to what really counts in life; our relationships with other people, our relationship with our self, and our relationship with our creator (in the Jeffersonian tradition).  I have absolutely no argument with the idea that, like assembling an unusually frustrating piece of Ikea furniture, we need to be smacked in the head by our spouses and told to rtfm already.  My issue with this particular admonition is that number one, this user's manual is 2000 years old, number two, it was originally written in the arcane Aramaic language, and number three, even the experts have been arguing about most of its injunctions since Constantinople first decreed that it be the official manual for the western world.

As for the readability of translated manuals I have only to refer you to the user's guide for your new Japanese digital camera to illustrate the confusion caused by supposed literal translations.  The Japanese tend to create buttons to turn default modes off, while we in the West prefer buttons to turn modes on because we consider individualism a virtue above the rest.  So when a Japanese manual says push this button to turn something on, they really mean off.  If you have ever owned a Subaru or Honda, you know what I mean.

Secondly, because The Bible can be so mysterious, even for scholars, we are endlessly forming study groups and discussing how we can apply its lessons to modern life.  It is kind of like using an MS-DOS manual for a Windows 7 computer.  The hardware is basically the same but the software certainly has changed.  To be fair, the Bible was once updated from 1.0 (The Old Testament) to 2.0 (The New Testament) but we are now living in 10.0 and our designer surely had to know what would happen once a virus named Beezlebub 1.0 infected the system.

I am not arguing that the Bible wasn't inspired.  It most certainly is.  I am just saying that proclaiming it Absolute and Final seems a bit Talibanish to me.  Without the violence of course.  I hope even the most fundamentalist among us wouldn't incite violent and deadly riots in the streets if some Afghani Mullahs ignorantly burned a few bibles. But you get my drift about taking an ancient document too literally.  In the interest of full disclosure I must admit I have never actually read The Bible.  I have attempted to fully read it.  I have also attempted to fully read The Origin of Species and Democracy in America, two of my favorite books that I have never read.  They were written in the nineteenth century and who but a handful of college professors and history geeks can actually read anything written in archaic prose.  That's why some genius came up with the "For Dummies" series.  User's manuals for the rest of us.

I am not saying one should formulate their world view based on these modern, but dumbed down guides but their existence proves my point.  I also believe a more apropos billboard for the modern texting world might look as follows:

LIFE.  RTFM.

But ultimately the fact that an intelligent designer left us with such an opaque manual seems neither intelligent nor practical to me.   No offense intended.

It's the Trash Stupid

You start to pay attention to your trash when, for 3 1/2 hours, you are driving it back and forth between your full time residence in the burbs and your vacation home in the mountains.  Well, more back than forth.  Much like those truckers who haul New Jersey trash west, then California fresh cantaloupes back east, without first hosing down the inside of the trailer, we were forced to assess the wisdom of our ways.

Soon after purchasing our log cabin we were advised by our new neighbor to take the trash back to NJ on Sunday because trash day in Woodland Valley is on Friday.  So it's all you can eat buffet night for the bears Monday thru Thursday if one leaves their trash out prior to returning home for the week.  And in fact, a casual drive down Woodland Valley Road on a Monday is more like a drive through downtown Detroit after a riot what with all the swerving around the debris strewn about by the bears.  Only it's banana peels, apple cores, styrofoam cups, and trash cans instead of burning tires and overturned cop cars.

Which got us to thinking about composting.  Reduce, reuse, recycle, and repurpose.  Isn't that a worthwhile endeavor?  We are not neophyte composters. For many years we had a chicken wire bordered compost heap right out our back door but also in clear view of our neighbor's kitchen window.  But after a few passive-aggressive comments like "Oh, I see your pile is almost to the top of my window", we decided to move it to the other side of the yard. No longer convenient, the compost was turned less and less and we peeled our carrots more and more into the regular trash rather than cart the organic waste "all the way" to the other side of the yard.  And because in our kitchen nothing can sit out on the counter, our little compost bucket, hidden behind the trash can under the sink, was soon forgotten.

I have always considered myself a "Cadillac Conservationist", which is not dissimilar to my other political affliction, "Limousine Liberal", so in my mind, at least, I was never a conspicuous consumer.  I might own a second home 200 miles distant, which I drive to three times a month, but at least I don't own a yacht, Jet Ski, Porsche, or a Hummer.  And those impossible to open plastic blister packs that all my new toys come in these days?  I tsk tsk several times about the wastefulness as I throw them in the trash, since in Woodbury, NJ only numbers 1 and 2 are recyclable. 

So when Tammy picked up a copy of Country Wisdom News while awaiting her 3:30 massage at the Emerson Resort in Mt Tremper you could say that the starter had already been added to the compost.  If you've never spoken with, nor read about a hard core composter the experience is more Pentecostal revival meeting than cooperative extension newsletter.  After reading the article about the miracles of composted waste matter, Tammy was ready to have her prodigal body dipped in the waters of the Woodland Stream and purged of her wasteful ways.  The author was so enthusiastic about the fertilizing power of compost that I was reminded of  the time when Tammy's best friend in high school rubbed MiracleGro on her breasts.  I am hoping the compost will do more for my melons than the MiracleGro did for hers.

The Envirocycle

In any case, we are obviously not alone in our desire to have our composting be as convenient and scientific as possible.  Some marketing genius figured out that a chicken wired pile which has to be turned with a pitchfork every week isn't going to make anyone a profit.  Nor is it very much fun.  Apparently going simple isn't.  Go ahead and search for composters at amazon.com.  I'll wait.  I don't know how many dinosaurs had to die to produce the oil to produce all this plastic, but just like the supposed energy efficiency of a Prius, I can't help but believe that the carbon energy used to manufacture all this environmentally friendly paraphernalia more than makes up for any carbon energy saved by composting.   Never the less, Tammy eventually settled on an ingenious little solar workhorse called the Envirocycle Composter.  Just 3 turns a week on our way out the door and we should be spreading our fertile gold in 8 short weeks.  I suspect that being able to grow over-sized melons will be just the beginning of Tammy's new found confidence......in the garden.

We put the composter right out our back door and the little intermediary bucket to collect the kitchen waste is under our sink.  Our compostable waste flow is now so convenient and accessible that it even meets the American with Disabilities Act standard for wheelchair accessibility.  I have no more excuses.  The only problem is, I am still carting my waste 209 miles south from Phoenicia to Woodbury.  I am hoping to be able to trade my compost for some carbon offsets.  In my mind, I already have.

It's Just a Hill

I noticed an alarming uptick in page views of this blog since it was mentioned on another blog.  Anonymity has its perks and I fear for the sanctity of my thoughts.  Of course a blog is nothing more than a private diary made public so we let the chips fall where they may when we disclose the location of our private thoughts.  But as they say "a life lived unexamined is barely worth living at all".  But when living in the country it is especially important to close the exam room door.  And to make sure your gown is securely fastened in the posterior because if your ass gets exposed, it will be kicked.  Of course I don't actually live in the country, nor do I live in the city.  I am, and always have been, a suburbanite.  A compromise where everyone is happy but few are content.















But now for my actual topic;  If you believe that only Himalayan mountaineers have to turn back 200 feet from the summit, then think again.  The Catskill 3500 Club requires the summiting of four Catskill mountains in winter for a reason: To separate the boys from the men . Or in our case, the girls from the men.  An actual self arrest is very rare below 12,000 feet and rarer still east of the Rocky Mountains, but that is exactly what I witnessed at 3800 feet near Windham NY  in the Catskill Mountains.  Blackhead Mountain is the fifth highest mountain in the Catskills at 3940 feet elevation and one of the four required peaks to be conquered in winter for admittance into the Catskill 3500 Club.  So for our annual Valentine's Day hike Tammy and I decided to knock the bastard off.  It would have been our final mandatory winter summit for entry into the club. "Would have been" being the point of this story.  I don't know if you have ever hiked in the Catskills but most summits have an official DEC sign posted at 3500 feet declaring that camping is off limits above this elevation.  If you are simultaneously a member of the Tea Party and the Catskill 3500 Club then I imagine this sign is like throwing salt in the wound of excessive government regulation.  But if, like me, you believe that perhaps there should be a tree left for our great grand children to enjoy then these signs might as well say "You're almost there!  You can do it!!!!!"  Kind of like your spouse cheering you on at the 26 mile mark during a 26.2 mile marathon.  So when we passed the sign on this hike I felt confident that  my summit PB&J would soon be in my hands.  Because let's face it, the walking uphill sucks but at least the victory lunch is good.

The trail was very steep and icy but quite doable until the 3700 foot mark. We had our microspikes on but I began to worry about getting back down.  There were no foot holds nor steps and the ice was rock hard.  At times the only thing getting us up was grabbing onto a tree branch and pulling ourselves up the ice.  And then when I grabbed one root and it broke sending me sliding into a rock, I started to have second thoughts.
Getting up a mountain is strenuous but not necessarily scary-just don't look behind you-but getting down is where the accidents happen.  Tammy was ahead of me having found a safer route but I was stuck on a ledge too scared to retrace my steps to follow her.  We could practically see the summit.  Then one false step and Tammy slipped and started careening past me, on her ass, heading straight for a drop off.  I am not making this up.  It was like a scene out of a movie except instead of Sylvester Stallone in Cliffhanger, I was Don Knots in the Shakiest Gun in the West.   After sliding about 15 feet Tammy reached out her arms and grabbed onto some overhead branches to accomplish a self arrest that reminded me of Spiderman grabbing onto a flag pole as he falls from the ledge of a skyscrapper.  If this sounds a bit dramatic, it was, because who expects this to happen in the Catskills?  Not me.

We could have made it 100 more vertical feet but now I was seriously alarmed about our dimming prospects for an event free descent.  One bad fall on my previously cracked  rib and all I could imagine was a punctured lung and a helicopter ride home.  A flare for the dramatic means I am never bored.  Is there shame in turning back 100 feet from the summit of a 3900 foot tall hill?  Perhaps, but now I get to go back with full on mountaineering boots, crampons, ice ax, and some rope.  Seriously.  I couldn't be happier.

Please Don't Ruin This For Me

As a child I would fantasize about the Viet Cong waiting to ambush me as I hiked around the woods near my house.  We would constantly scan the trees looking for trip wires and other tell tale signs of imminent danger.  It made an otherwise routine walk around a rather routine park seem exotic and perilous.  If the hiking wasn't so dicey at least the perceived threat of capture and torture spiced up the stroll.  But if you think the threat was totally imaginary you would be mistaken.  Hempstead Lake State Park on Long Island might be surrounded by the entitled but it is also situated adjacent to the not so privileged.  And one day they wanted mine and my brother's bicycles.  A ten year old on his new five speed Schwinn sting ray and his twelve year old brother on the latest ten speed Peugeot with Simplex gears cruising down the bike path only to be stopped dead in their tracks by a felled tree laying across the path. And two sixteen year old boys from the hood laying in wait.

Fortunately they were outfitted with two beat up old bikes.  So when they demanded our rides we just high tailed it the hell out of there.  They chased us but their single speed banana bikes were no match for our high tech steeds.  The only reason I bring up this true story is to illustrate the fact that my backwoods trepidation is not totally without merit.  While traipsing about in the woods, I have learned to always be prepared.  Even if the woods you are traversing are a five acre lot between your house and the Walgreens parking lot.

Even at the age of 51, I like to pretend that a winter hike in the Catskill Mountains is an epic adventure worthy of the planning and preparation of an Ernest Shackleton expedition to Antarctica-even though we are at most 6 miles from the parking area.  It wouldn't even occur to me that we could be driving along on our way to a luncheon date and suddenly decide to take a hike.  But that is what looks like occurs with many of the people we meet along the trail; that they just hopped out of the car, with not so much as a canteen or map, and started up the trail, not realizing that there is ice, rocks, snow,  thorny brambles, slick roots, two hundred foot drop-offs, and angry bears.  Not to mention the always imminent threat of  sleet, rain, wind and/or blizzard conditions.  Any of which could lead to a twisted ankle or worse.  Thereby necessitating a potential night out on the mountain while waiting for the rescue helicopter to arrive.  Which might or might not ever show up because there is spotty cell service and no record of their whereabouts either, because none of these people ever bother to sign the trail register.

Here is a-quite possibly incomplete-list of the minimal gear I have in my pack for a winters day on the mountain: Small first aid kit, emergency foil blanket (the type you thought only Boy Scouts purchased), headlamp, matches and/or lighter, whistle, knife, compass, map, water purifier tablets, toilet paper (and hand cleaner), 1-2 qrts of water, lunch, snacks, puffy jacket (down or polyester), rain jacket, hat, gloves, and quite possibly some type of rope.  On my body there is not a single fiber of cotton.  I am not even a big fan of cotton/poly hybrids for winter hiking.  I am wearing a first layer of polyester underpants, long sleeve undershirt and Smartwool hiking socks.  Layer number two is a microfiber hoodie or sweatshirt and softshell pants.  I wear a sofshell jacket to top it all off.  Unless it is very, very cold, you should not hike in your down jacket.  You will quickly overheat on the first hill.  If I may dispense some advise at this point  it would be that you should always start out a little cold on a hike.  I cannot tell you how many people I pass within a few hundred yards of the parking lot who have already stopped to shed layers.  On my feet are leather/Goretex hiking boots and my micro spikes if the trail is immediately icy.  Finally, in my hands are a set of trekking poles to save my knees and prevent a bad fall. 

So when I come upon some inappropriately dressed hikers at an altitude of 1000 feet above sea level or greater during the months of December thru March I take their nonchalance quite personally.  On my most recent winter hike, pictured above, I happened to pass one such group coming up the trail as I was walking down after an exhausting hike to the summit of Panther Mountain.  They were two young couples literally looking as if they expected for there to be a nightclub on Giant Ledge, a nice view point on the way to Panther summit.  Granted, Giant Ledge is only 1.5 miles from the parking lot but the trail is steep and very icy as you can see in the picture above. While I was stumbling down the icy trail praying I wouldn't slip and break my neck, this group of four came sauntering up the hill dressed very nearly like the woman pictured below.  Except I believe one of these hikers was even more fashionably dressed than her.  She was wearing a cowl neck sweater, sexy looking leggings, lace up boots and no coat of any sort.  And their attitude was the same as this woman's as well.  As in "What's your problem, nerd?".  Or perhaps that thought was just in my own mind.  The men were equally ill-prepared in jeans, cotton shirts, Yankees baseball caps, and leather bomber jackets.  But there they were on the same dicey trail as me.  A trail, by the way, on which I slipped on some ice after taking off my spikes near the car.  My rib is still bruised.  It could be broken.

Nor was this a one time occurrence.  A few weeks ago on Slide Mountain, the highest peak in the Catskills, we came across an older couple (our age) at the summit, during a snow storm, wearing jeans and the man was wearing a jeans shirt as well.  He looked as if he were horseback riding in Arizona during a Memorial Day vacation.  She had on a fashionable wool (acceptable) sweater and scarf but the ensemble looked more like the kind you would wear while window shopping in Manhattan during Christmas.  They had the good sense, at least, to be wearing real hiking boots. But what really got my attention was the paper bag and muffin from Dunkin Donuts she pulled out of her pack and proceeded to eat as if she were sitting in a downtown coffee shop.  There isn't a Dunkin Donuts for fifty miles around!  I have seen plenty of gourmet food being eaten at the top of a mountain but it is usually repackaged in zip lock bags.  These people looked like they decided to hike up the highest mountain around, during a snow storm, on their way to a baby shower in Albany.  And lucky for them, they had stopped on the Thruway for a cup of coffee and donuts.  But the most off-putting thing of all was that they were standing there on the summit, next to me, oozing with a galling nonchalance . This after my half day of planning, packing, anxiously watching the weather reports, and fighting with Tammy about her gear. 


Well, at least I have the summer hikers to look forward to:

Dentist Kills Wife and Other Assorted Topics

 

I need to clean out all the notes about potential blog topics I have strewn about the cabin.  I know I make it seem easy, but it is very difficult to get an entire blog post out of a single punchline.  So I will attempt to write an entertaining stream of consciousness post out of random topics.




Number one: Dentist Kills Wife.
Have you ever noticed that when a dentist kills their spouse the killers profession is always mentioned in the headline?  If a plumber killed his wife the headline would read "Man Kills Wife".  Then five paragraphs down the reporter would finally get to the killers profession.  As in "The local plumber faces a life sentence if convicted".  But if a dentist kills his spouse it needs to be stated at the outset.  You might not be aware of this but murder is a criteria for immediate loss of a dental license in the state of New Jersey.  I question the validity of this policy because I don't understand how killing your spouse means you are not competent at doing root canals.  Perhaps this is a perfect example of the regulatory over-reach that Chris Christy is trying to abolish.  I wish him good luck. 

Number two: High School.
Perhaps it is just me but why do we spend the last sixty or seventy years of our lives making up for the first eighteen years?  I am not pointing fingers and if you recognize yourself it is strictly coincidental.  But I have noticed that the sibling who, while growing up, gave the parents the most amount of grief is the one to do the most amount of sucking up later in life.  As in inviting the grandparents to attend even the most minor grandchild milestone.  Like kindergarten graduation.  Or the grand kids second grade violin concert where Mary Had a Little Lamb is the featured song.
And this might seem extremely pathetic but every time I make it to the top of a mountain I wish Mr Bigelow, my high school gym teacher, was there to witness the achievement because I could never even get to the top of the ropes in gym class.  It was assumed I would one day become a successful professional but my athletic achievements in adulthood are what fill me with the most pride.

Number three: Stop the world, I want to get off.
Let me summarize every self help book for you.  I will save you countless dollars and years of fruitless therapy;  The world is not going to change so you have to.  The issue is not that people are putzes.  They are.  The problem is how you react to them.  So say all the books in the self help section.  These books would have you believe that you are capable of change.  This is a very silly notion.  I outright reject this proposition.  I certainly am not going to change so the world will have to.  Instead of lecturing me about mindful breathing, flow, drawing on the right side of the brain, change your thoughts change your life, and my erroneous zones, why don't they do something about the aggravating behaviors of the people who actually do need to change.  For example those inconsiderate drivers who aren't passing any cars while hogging the passing lane.  I wouldn't have road rage in the first place if the other nitwits knew how to drive on the New Jersey Turnpike. The Declaration of Independence didn't mention driving slow in the fast lane as being one of the natural rights of man.

Number four:  Man vs nature.
Why do Republicans like jet skis, ATV's, motor boats, off roading, snowmobiles, hunting, and hamburgers while Democrats like kayaks, mountain bikes, sailing, hiking, cross country skiing, nature photography, and veggie burgers?  I don't know. Perhaps for the same reason Republicans believe they are getting screwed by welfare queens and Democrats believe they are being screwed by Wall Street kings. It's the difference between sharing and subjugating.

Number five: Man vs mountains.
The hike from my cabin in Woodland Valley to Winasook Lake is approximately 7 miles.  The drive from my cabin in Woodland Valley to Winasook Lake is approximately 25 miles.  If it weren't for the mountains, we would be close to everything.  And were it not for the Appalachians and the Rockies, Manifest Destiny would not have been so triumphant a goal.  Glory resides in the mountains, not the plains.

Number six: Not every idea is a winner.
Procrastination is the best purgative.  What seemed important two months ago is not so much today.  And I feel way better.

You, Sir, are a Nattering Nabob of Negativity

I am not one to crow but this could be the crowning achievement of my short career as a bloggist.
I had the rare good fortune to be able to dress down a very prominent and nationally syndicated conservative columnist.  The Philadelphia Inquirer, a newspaper known for its Pulitzer Prize winning reporting, decided to publish a letter to the editor I wrote in response to a column by the conservative political commentator Charles Krauthammer. A fellow member, I might add, of my own tribe, The Chosen People.  I only mention this in response to my previous blog post in which the target of my scorn implied that members of the same faith automatically have similar values.  We do not.
Here, then, is the article and my response:  Click on each link.

Krauthammer article link

Charlie

My letter to the editor link (scroll down to my letter)

Richie

Here is my letter reprinted in case the link is ever broken.  Reprinted from the Philadelphia Inquirer January 25, 2012:

Krauthammer is a Sore Loser

Charles Krauthammer's beloved Republicans haven't even lost the presidential election yet, but he is already behaving like a sore loser ("Republicans self-destruct," Monday). He readily admits that the president "is a very smart man." However, "if he wins in November, that won't be the reason. It will be luck."
Krauthammer is nothing more than a verbal bully who has to resort to cheap shots more suited to an elementary school yard game of tag. Calling a potential November victory by President Obama mere luck is an insult to our electoral process and is offensive to all Americans who will exercise their right to vote for the person of their choosing. Krauthammer should be ashamed for behaving like a child who hasn't learned good sportsmanship.
Richard Feuer, Woodbury

Us vs Them

This is a direct quote from the Philadelphia Inquirer January 19, 2012:
"Morality will be the deciding issue for me.  It's hard to trust someone who doesn't share your faith and values" (italics are mine).  So says Adam Burger, 31, a computer programmer from Lexington, South Carolina and a member of the First Baptist Church. 

I did not personally interview this person.  He might have been misquoted.  The statement might have been taken out of context.  He might just have been trying to make a point without fully thinking through its implications.  I don't know.  I am more Matt Drudge than Walter Cronkite so source verification is above my pay grade.  Mr. Burger was quoted in an article discussing the importance of the evangelical vote in S.C.  But to me this quote very clearly points out the fundamental flaw in political discourse today; the Us vs. Them mentality.  The use of the operand "and" when lumping faith and values together as opposed to faith or values is very telling for me and a key difference between free thinkers and fundamentalists.

I suspect this is why the writer felt it necessary to mention Mr. Burger's occupation as a computer programmer.  Perhaps it gives him some intellectual gravitas.  His vocation, after all, is of no significance to the point of the article or his opinions.  It only serves to emphasize the disconnect between faith and reason.  A computer programmer, at the very least, must be a logical thinker.  Algorithms, the fundamental building blocks of computer code, are ultimately based on logic.  If p implies q , and x follows y then blah, blah, blah.  So I am forced to conclude he is a logical thinker.  If Mr. Burger was a cashier at McDonald's, not that there's anything wrong with that, would we have felt something different toward his statement?  Perhaps.  But that would be just as judgmental as Mr. Burger's statement itself.

The statement " share your faith and values" can be very narrowly defined or, if we are being generous, we can think of it as being very inclusive.  The "and" modifier just makes this more difficult.  Granted, a society, in order to be successful in the long term, should share a fundamental set of values.  Respect life (a loaded proposition in and of itself), liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.  Whether or not these values are irrevocably connected to a single faith is the question at hand.  Though I assumed this issue was settled by Jefferson and Madison in 1787, but apparently not in South Carolina.  Or Iowa for that matter.

And what exactly does he mean by his faith?  Evangelical Christianity specifically?  Does he immediately distrust Jews and Catholics?  Western religious thought in general?  Does he only immediately distrust Muslims and Hindus?  Islamic terrorists aside, don't all faiths teach a respect for human life and dignity?  I could therefore assume he only mistrusts atheists, but since he was speaking within the context of the Republican primary I must assume he has Mormons (Romney), and Catholics (Gingrich) in mind. 

I never met Mr. Burger, but for some reason I  imagine he is a pretty good guy and I might possibly enjoy having a beer with him (the computer programmer thing.  He can't be totally unreasonable).  I further suspect he certainly does not think of himself as a bigot, but that is exactly what his statement says about him.  He is judging what would amount to be the overwhelming majority of the world's population, whom he has never met, to be untrustworthy just because they don't share his faith.  I guess it could be argued that what he meant was he doesn't trust a non-believing politician to vote for the things he values even if he says he would.  But that is not a matter of faith.  That is a matter of record.  So once again I am left to assume he specifically has Romney in mind since Romney seems to be the guy who has a history of flip flops. Mr. Burger even admits to such near the end of the above referenced article.  But what does flip flopping have to do with Mormonism?  People of faith have changed their views throughout all of history.  Just ask Galileo and Copernicus. Or Brigham Young. Perhaps Mr. Burger had the abrogation of polygamy by the Mormon Church in the nineteenth century in mind when he stated that he doesn't trust people of other faiths not to pull a switcheroo.  I doubt it. I am pretty certain he lacks even the most fundamental idea of the tenets of Mormonism.

I wonder if he has interviewed his dentist about his or her faith.  Does he trust that, no matter what their faith, his health care providers have his best interest in mind?  Of course he does.   I have many patients with whom I don't necessarily share their faith but they trust me very much.  It is because they trust my values.  Very, very different from faith. I have many patients who are deeply devout Christians but they trust me to do what is best for them.  Why?  They don't know a thing about my faith, but for the fact that I was born a Jew.  They trust me because they know I am a smart decision maker and I value their health over my purse.  Maybe my being for or against gay marriage is not so important when doing a painless root canal so the analogy is unfair.  I don't know.

A human being should never be judged solely by his or her faith.  To do so is bigoted and  in direct conflict with the spirit of the First Amendment of our Constitution.  I wish I could meet Adam Burger and tell him how deeply offended I am by his statement.  How deeply offended all of us should be.