Attractive Nusiance

I count religion but a childish toy and
hold there is no sin but ignorance.

— Christopher Marlowe

After his arrest this week, Atlanta gunman Robert Long told police he merely wanted to wipe out temptation.

His vicar has said Long's actions were "the result of a sinful heart and depraved mind" and "completely unacceptable."

Bull.

While liberals ballyhoo about pistols and prejudice, I don't hear an outcry against the real culprit: Christianity.

It's time to outlaw it.

"The Christian resolution to find the world ugly and bad has made the world ugly and bad," Friedrich Nietzsche aptly said.

Long found the world ugly and bad, and merely tried to better it. 

His only real crime was childishness.

Fortunately, there is solid ground upon which to ban Christianity: the doctrine of “attractive nuisance."

Dating to 1841, the doctrine holds a property owner responsible for a child's injuries when the owner fails to eliminate a "nuisance" that lures the child to trespass.

Attractive nuisances typically include swimming pools; artificial ponds and water fountains; trampolines; treehouses; merry-go-rounds; building equipment and debris; discarded appliances and cars; and unsecured animals.

In the case of Victims v. Long, the vicar of Crabapple First Baptist Church (as well as Long) should be found guilty. 

Long pulled the trigger, yes; but the vicar lured him into doing so, by dangling the "attractive nuisance" known in his trade as "eternal salvation." 

The Crabapple First Baptist Church should be shuttered and demolished, and the congregation's assets awarded to the plaintiffs.

For once, let's get to the root of things.

Shake Your Booty

The filibuster is an effort to talk something to death.

— Sen. Dick Durbin

The filibuster is a Senate procedure invoked by the minority party to "pirate" a popular bill.

This act of piracy used to be difficult, but no longer. 

Until 1975, senators could block a bill only through the “talking filibuster.” Today, they can call for a "virtual" one. No one need talk. 

Joe Biden wants Senators to filibuster like they did "in the old days," talking until they're exhausted. Republicans disagree.

Hard or easy, piracy lies at the very heart of the filibuster.

Filibuster derives from flibustier, the 17th century French word for "pirate." A 1684 memoir by buccaneer John Oexmelin popularized the word in America.

By the 1850s—when Manifest Destiny was on everyone's mind—militia leaders like William Walker were called filibusters. (If there's something strange in your neighborhood who you gonna call?) To filibuster meant to wage a private war; a filibuster was an insurrectionist.

Three decades later, the filibuster was formally introduced in the Senate. Southern obstructionists would use it to "pirate" debates over civil rights bills, spurring ruthless, minority-led "insurrections."

Filibuster is closely related to freebooter, derived from the 16th century Dutch vrijbuiter, meaning "plunderer." Vrijbuit meant "free booty." Booty derived from the 14th century French butin, meaning "plunder taken from an enemy in war." And boot derived from the 11th century German busse, meaning "penance."

Today we call pirates "freebooters."

Grass Makes Girls

I did not wonder when I was told that this region was called the England of Pennsylvania.

— Oliver Wendell Holmes

After decades living in and around Washington, DC, my wife and I are still getting used to new stomping grounds.

We're both delighted those grounds are within the Brandywine Valley.

It's crazy, but most natives I've met, with the exception of a few Dupont descendants, wonder aloud why anyone with any sense would choose to live in the area on purpose.

Our reply would be complex, but front and center is the wish to live our remaining days as country squires, lolling in pastoral torpor.

Gas is cheap, the hospitals are good, and there are also excellent eateries all around.

But most of all the place is pretty—not in DC's stately, Beaux-Arts way, but in a quiet, Arcadian manner. 

It's like a pleasant parcel of rural England was picked up by a tornado and dropped on the doorstep of Philadelphia.

And, believe it or not, the grass is also greener.

I'm not the first to note that fact.

On September 18, 1862, the physician, poet and essayist Oliver Wendell Holmes received a telegram stating that his son, Captain Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr., had been shot through the neck the day before at the Battle of Antietam in Maryland.

Holmes immediately left his Boston home by train, heading for Maryland in search of his son, one of Antietam's 23,000 "maimed pilgrims."

Holmes arrived at the battlefield four days later, only to be told his son was nowhere to be found. 

Absent evidence, Holmes guessed his son might be in Philadelphia, resting in the Walnut Street mansion of a friend named Charlie.

Reaching Philadelphia, Holmes indeed found the mansion packed with wounded soldiers, none of whom were his son. 

He decided to go back to Maryland to search all the field hospitals, and asked Charlie to join him.

"I must have a companion in my search, partly to help me look about, and partly because I was getting nervous and felt lonely," Holmes said.

The two men promptly left Philadelphia on a train bound for Harrisburg. It took them through the Brandywine Valley, which Holmes described in detail:

"By and by the glorious valley which stretches along through Chester and Lancaster Counties opened upon us. Much as I had heard of the fertile regions of Pennsylvania, the vast scale and the uniform luxuriance of this region astonished me.

"The grazing pastures were so green, the fields were under such perfect culture, the cattle looked so sleek, the houses were so comfortable, the barns so ample, the fences so well kept, that I did not wonder, when I was told that this region was called the 'England of Pennsylvania.'

"The people whom we saw were, like the cattle, well nourished; the young women looked round and wholesome.

“'Grass makes girls,' I said to my companion.

Two days later, Holmes found his wounded son, safely aboard a train parked in the Harrisburg railroad station. He took him home to recuperate in Boston.

Atonement

Slavery is the next thing to hell.

— Harriet Tubman

My teachers, the Jesuits, have vowed to raise $100 million to benefit descendants of the slaves they once owned, according to The New York Times.

The pledge represents the largest effort by the Catholic Church to atone for buying, selling and enslaving Blacks, church historians told The Times.

Jesuits in America relied on slave labor for more than three centuries to sustain themselves, and sold slaves to finance the operation of schools, including Georgetown University, the nation’s first Catholic college.

“This is an opportunity for Jesuits to begin a very serious process of truth and reconciliation,” said the Rev. Timothy Kesicki, president of the Jesuit Conference of Canada and the United States. 

“Our shameful history of Jesuit slaveholding in the United States has been taken off the dusty shelf, and it can never be put back.”

The Jesuits have already contributed $15 million toward the $100 million pledge, and have hired professionals fundraisers to bring in the $85 million balance during the next five years.

The money will be disbursed in the form of scholarships, cash payouts to the old and infirm, and grants to organizations devoted to racial reconciliation.

In the 17th, 18th and 19th centuries, the Jesuits believed slaves, though humans, were valuable assets. Buying and selling them was considered moral.

But some Jesuits objected.

Fr. Antonio Viera, for example, argued that anyone who enslaved others "enslaved his own soul," and that anyone who sold slaves "sold his own soul.

"The price for which they are sold is sin," Viera said.

Big Shots

That any considerable degree of protection against influenza was conferred by the vaccine seems unlikely.

— Jordan & Sharp

In November 1918, as the Spanish flu swept through American towns and cities, epidemiologists raced to confirm that the Pfeiffer bacillus vaccine—the state of the art at the time—really worked.

Most doctors had their doubts.

Lacking standards for what constituted a valid clinical trial, physicians couldn't say whether the Pfeiffer bacillus vaccine did any good.

Most trials in 1918 were ridden with faults, doctors knew. 

Selection bias in both experimental and control groups was common. So were sloppy vaccine mixing, patient observation, and data collection.

Determined to test the Pfeiffer bacillus vaccine rigorously, two University of Chicago scientists, E.O. Jordan and W. B. Sharp, took the unprecedented step of injecting the vaccine into more than 5,000 inmates of two Illinois mental hospitals.

Jordan and Sharp chose the hospitals because, relative to outside populations, the inmates had been spared exposure to the Spanish flu, and because none of the inmates had participated in a previous vaccine trial.

Based on their willingness to be jabbed, the hospital inmates—including many young children—were divided into experimental and control groups and given three shots in the course of three weeks. 

Half the shots contained the vaccine; half contained water.

To supplement the trial, Jordan and Sharp also inoculated over 500 residents—all children—at a school for the blind and a school for the deaf, under the same precise conditions.

Trial-participants at the hospitals and schools were then observed for six months, to see how many would come down with the Spanish flu.

Just about all did, prompting Jordan and Sharp to conclude that, despite enthusiastic claims by its proponents, the Pfeiffer bacillus vaccine was a bust.

Without an effective vaccine against the Spanish flu, medical and public health professionals across the US turned to other measures to combat the disease. 

Quarantines, school closures, bans on public gatherings, and mandatory mask-wearing became common in the winter and spring of 1919. 

By Easter, with 675,000 Americans dead, the disease had run its course.

No one knew why.

"Herd immunity" was suggested, although Jordan and Sharp were doubtful.

It was not until 1942 that epidemiologists Thomas Francis and Jonas Salk discovered a vaccine against the Spanish flu. 

They found that by injecting people with a half-dead virus, they could create immunity.

Like Jordan and Sharp, they tested their vaccine on psychiatric patients, inoculating 8,000 inmates at Michigan mental hospitals. 

Unlike Jordan and Sharp's, Francis and Salk's vaccine worked, increasing immunity 85%.

Thank goodness we don't have to wait two decades for an effective Covid-19 vaccine to appear. It's here. 

I received my first dose yesterday.

Too bad big shots don't get it.