Axver (axver) wrote,

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Theology, Rugby World Cup, and storms

This is known as the ontological argument, and basically goes as follows;

1. It is greater for a thing to exist in the mind and in reality than in the mind alone.
2. "God" means "that than which a greater cannot be thought".
3. Suppose that God exists in the mind but not in reality.
4. Then a greater than God could be thought (namely a being that has all the qualities our thought of God has plus real existence).
5. But this is impossible, for God is "that than which a greater cannot be thought".
6. Therefore God exists in the mind and in reality.

So, what do you think? I find this a very interesting argument to contemplate, and I'm undecided on its validity and whether it counts as a legitimate proof or not. So yes, do comment.

And here's another, one that I think is quite good;

The argument from the origin of the idea of God
1. We have ideas of many things.
2. These ideas must arise either from ourselves or from things outside us.
3. One of the ideas we have is the idea of God - an infinite, all-perfect being.
4. This idea could not have been caused by ourselves, because we know ourselves to be limited and imperfect, and no effect can be greater than its cause.
5. Therefore, the idea must have been caused by something outside us which has nothing less than the qualities contained in the idea of God.
6. But only God Himself has those qualities.
7. Therefore God Himself must be the cause of the ideas we have of Him.
8. Therefore God exists.

(Those have been courtesy of the [i]Handbook of Christian Apologetics[/i] by Peter Kreeft and Ronald K. Tacelli, a very fascinating book that really gets me thinking)

On a sporting note, Argentina versus Ireland was quite possibly the best game of the Cup so far. It was a heart-stopping, absolutely riveting match and I would've HATED to have been an Irish or Argentine fan. It was heart-stopping enough for me. The Argentinians got the first points, then the Irish scored a try - as he scored it, the tryscorer injured himself severely (apparently a dislocated shoulder) - and the Argentines then went and put a couple of kicks (one of them a drop goal) through. However, the Irish got a penalty themselves and it was 10-9 at half time. During the second half, the Argentines got up to 12-10, and then they traded kicks. In the last few minutes, it was 16-15 in favour of Ireland and it got frantic. The Argentines were DESPERATE to score - and would've been in the lead by two had an earlier penalty not missed - and the Irish were equally as desperate to defend their lead. The Argentines attacked and attacked, trying to break the Irish line, something they had been unable to do all match (all points were from penalty or drop kicks) ... but in the last minute they lost the ball, the Irish took it, and that was it. A few more even more frantic phases, and it was all over. The Irish won by a SINGLE POINT! The Argentinian team was probably the better - Quesada or whatever their kicker's called has a wonderful boot - and they would've won if the Irish hadn't brought O'Gara on for Humphreys in the 55th minute. But O'Gara brought new life into the Irish and drove them to victory. Incredibly thrilling game, and what rugby is all about.

At the moment, England versus Samoa is on. Now practically everyone would've said the English should win easily enough, but the Samoans ... damn, they're playing BRILLIANTLY. England was stunned when the Samoans first got a converted try and then a penalty to lead 10-0 early in the first half. Then the English fought back to level it, only to concede two penalties. They've now got one back and, with the first half nearing its conclusion, Samoa leads 16-13. This is an amazing performance by the Pacific Islanders against the number one ranked team in the world.

I also must say I love the traditional war dance the Samoans perform before their game. I haven't seen the Tongan one and I'm very familiar with the Kiwi Haka, and this one by Samoa ... it's great. I'm tempted to say it's better than the Haka. I really enjoyed it. And it's now half time, with the above scoreline of 16-13 to Samoa standing. The second half shall most certainly be entertaining. I doubt anyone expected this. And now, to update, it's the end of the second half. The Samoans fought galliantly and really shook the English, took them out of their comfort zone, but the English finally got their act together and won 35-22. Jonny Wilkinson wasn't his usual brilliant self, but Earl Va'a, the Samoan kicker, was fantastic.

Some brilliant games are coming up. South Africa versus Samoa will determine who'll come second in the pool England's in (and won). Whoever wins that game will face New Zealand. I thought South Africa wouldn't have any trouble, but considering how great Samoa's played tonight, Samoa may get up and win. There's also Australia versus Ireland, and the winner will top Pool A. That should be a good game, although Australia should win it by at least fifteen points.

Wow, tonight's rugby was incredible. Close and heart-stopping, entertaining and riveting ... just a joy to watch. It's what the World Cup's all about and I loved it. Can't wait for more of it.

To switch to a completely different topic, we had devastating storms roll through here. They brought a temporary halt to the Indy 300 - which proved to be quite a thrilling race indeed - and here for quite a while it got quite wild, but on the southern part of the Coast, that's where things were the worst. At the height of the storm, one house roof collapsed, while other houses sustained some significant damage. There were hailstones at least the size of golfballs, or so the news reported. I'm glad it wasn't that bad when it came through here. The rain came down, we got hit by some small hail, it thundered, the lightning flashed, and it got quite wild, but hardly as bad as only a few minutes to the south. Thank God for that. I hope my friends down south, like Tom and Burns, are OK. I guess if anything's happened, I'll hear all about it at school tomorrow ... or note their absense and be worried.

--- 10:20 ---

I was just down in the kitchen, getting myself a drink, when I saw the BIGGEST BLOODY COCKROACH I'VE EVER SEEN IN MY FLAMING LIFE. That thing was HUGE. I HATE cockroaches, and take great pleasure in killing them, so I grabbed the spray, got some paper towels, and went at it. It was sitting up on the air conditioning unit, which is raised up near the ceiling. I sprayed it, it ran a bit, sprayed it some more, it ran some more, and I kept on spraying, trying to get it to run down the wall so that I could squash it with the paper towels and flush it down the toilet. But instead, it decided to FLY. Yes, FLY. This gigantic flaming cockroach shot right over my head and flew into the darkness of the lounge. So I whacked on all the lights and sprayed around a bit, trying to work out where it went. I eventually spotted it above the TV cabinet, and it was moving slower than before - it was dying. So I sprayed it some more, and it shot off into the inky blackness of either the toilet or the garage, I couldn't see which door it took. Deciding this was enough excitement for the night, and that it was dying, I just sprayed in the direction it went and left.

Urgh, I HATE cockroaches. Spiders, ants, flies - I can tolerate them, but cockroaches, I'm not scared of them per se, but they just repulse and revolt me. I find flushing them down the toilet a very satisfying thing to do.

This is the first draft of my English assignment. We have to write a short story on coming of age, rites of passage, growing up, et cetera, of 700-900 words. This is what I've written, all 826 words. I need a title, and I can't say it's my best work ever, but it'll do.

As Yet Untitled

Empty alcohol bottles were scattered around the area, some of them broken. Along the side of the road, about ten high-powered cars of varying makes were parked, and mingling around them were thirty or forty teenagers, some of them high and all of them drunk, but they had suddenly gone quiet. In the middle of the road, two cars sat, ready to race down the street to the next intersection a few kilometres away, just before the road reached a seashore cliff and sharply turned to follow the ocean – there was just enough room between the corner and the cliff for the cars to come to a halt. Standing between the two cars was Lance Vickerson, the 18 year old who organised the races. But he paid no attention to the two cars – he only had eyes for another car coming down the road. Everyone else turned to look as it came to a stop and Xavier Mullen stepped out.
“Just what are you doing here?” demanded Lance.
“I’ve heard you’ve been admiring my car from afar.” replied Xavier. That was true – he had one of the fastest cars in the region. “I thought I’d challenge one of you to a race. The finish line’s the corner at the cliff.”
“Are you mad?” exclaimed Lance. “That corner’s way too sharp – you’ll fly right off it.”
“Too afraid to race me, then?”
“Wouldn’t want to race you anyway. Go home to your books.”
“I’m not like that at all.” said Xavier. “Amak and his crowd suck.” He produced a cigarette and lit it. “So you gonna race me or you too scared?”
“Fine, you’re on. To the corner it is. Someone get these other cars off the track!”
A short minute later, Lance and Xavier were at the start line, their car motors growling. Another one of the teenagers signalled for them to go, and they shot off. Leaving rubber marks behind them, they raced down the street, neck-and-neck. They remained level as they flew through the intersection at excessively high speed, but then Xavier did something no-one was expecting – he slightly veered to the left, just enough to nudge Lance’s car. The high speed caused Lance to completely lose control and he spun off the road, speared across a park, smashed through some park benches and play equipment in a shower of splinters, and then the rear of his car slammed into a tree and brought him to a stop.
Xavier didn’t have time to watch, and didn’t have time to note that Lance was miraculously unharmed – instead, he was focusing on throwing his own car into a spin. With tyres squealing, his car spun 180 degrees, and, with the brakes straining to slow it, it slid across the corner …
… smashed through a small wooden fence …
… the rear wheels slipped over the edge of the cliff …
… and the car came to a stop not a second too soon. Xavier hopped out to hear the sound of the other teenagers cheering, and he made his way back to the group. One thrust a can of beer into a hand that had just been shook in silent awe by Lance, while another passed him a cigarette. Xavier smiled – he’d been accepted.

The following morning, Amak Axver arrived at school early, as per usual. Just before he’d left home, he’d received a phone call, and the contents of it had made him urgently want to see Xavier. Upon entering the library, he spotted him sitting where he always sat, at his favourite computer. Amak made a beeline for him and pulled up a chair.
“I heard about last night.” Xavier totally ignored him. “Why’d you do it?”
After an uncomfortable pause, Xavier spoke, refusing to look at Amak;
“I wanted to be accepted. They accepted me. It worked.”
“I heard what you did.”
“So what? It worked, didn’t it?”
“You smoked. You drank. You caused mindless destruction. Lance could’ve been seriously hurt. That’s not you. The person they accepted is not the real Xavier.”
“But I’m actually accepted! They accepted an Xavier.”
“Not the real Xavier. They accepted a fraudulent sham, and one day they’ll discover you really are the person you claim not to be. Life isn’t about being accepted by a bunch of go-nowhere idiots who someone – probably themselves – deemed ‘cool’. Once you grow up, you’ll realise that.”
“I’m grown up. I’m mature. I’ve come of age.”
“If you had, you wouldn’t have sought the acceptance of others but would’ve been happy with who you are. You wouldn’t have tried to assimilate but tried to be yourself, be the best damn person you can be, and not care what some elements of society throw at you. Grow up.” Amak walked away in disgust. Xavier hung his head in shame – he knew his friend was right. Instead of becoming a man, the previous night’s stupidity had just made him even more childish.

--- 10:55 ---

By the way, this is sheer brilliance and will be found very amusing by any fans of the band comprised of Bono, Edge, Adam, and Larry, and collectively known as U2 (Er, I mean, comprised of Onob, Egde, Mada, and Yrral and collectively known as 2U), or by ... anyone. Hehe, it's GREAT. It is indeed a refreshing insight into a very quixotic rock band. And how stupid was I! I always thought All That You Can't Leave Behind was their latest album! I have now seen my foolish error. Time must go in reverse for me.

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  • Returning to theology

    Over the last few days, during trips of nostalgia, I have noticed a pattern of increasingly infrequent theologically themed entries on my LJ. Back in…

  • The Bit Torrenters' Creed

    As I am on the tired side of life, I thought that today I would simply share something from the "postwhore-a-thon" over on Interference, which has…

  • The value of doubt

    Just about a fortnight ago, I confessed to the obvious and wrote about my agnosticism. In that entry, I made one mildly curious statement that I…