Posted on Tuesday, April 03, 2007 by Carl Trueman on Postcards from Palookaville

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/uk/education/article1600686.ece

History is important; but the current distaste for history doesn't fill one with much confidence that this kind of thing can be reversed. 

Posted on Tuesday, April 03, 2007 by Carl Trueman on Postcards from Palookaville

Having spent a jolly couple of days reading through pages and pages and pages of web-based Holocaust Denial while simultaneously gagging and preparing a chapter for a book on historical method, I confess to being totally depressed by the number of such sites which connect to the `Christian' world.  Why the connection? 

Posted on Thursday, March 29, 2007 by Carl Trueman on Postcards from Palookaville

As no-one took up the last question, I'll take a stab at it before we move on to ignoring the next topic.  Revision of creeds: this is huge question which really defies reduction to a blog, but here are some thoughts:

Posted on Wednesday, March 21, 2007 by Carl Trueman on Postcards from Palookaville

Preparing a lecture which touches on the philosophy of Hannah Arendt, especially her understanding of evil as epitomised in the Nazi war criminal, Adolf Eichmann (who, contra some Reformed "thinkers," -- ahem! -- seemed to think that the Holocaust really did happen.....) I was struck by Arendt's comment on his testimony in his own defence, when he apologized for the fact that so much of what he had to say was dressed up in the language of Nazi civil servanthood:

Posted on Saturday, March 17, 2007 by Carl Trueman on Postcards from Palookaville

Yes, I acknowledge the defeat.  A source of national shame, and I humbly call on Tony Blair to make Monday a national day of prayer and humiliation.  I console myself only with the thought that, the occasional loss to Wales notwithstanding, it is still better, on balance, to be born English.  On that at least both English and Welsh can agree.

Posted on Friday, March 16, 2007 by Carl Trueman on Postcards from Palookaville

While I was at home with my parents last week, my niece (not the Welsh-speaking turncoat) stopped over for Saturday night. While she loves me as (she says) `my uncle from a Roald Dahl book, who’s never grown up and is naughtier than I am,’ I’m afraid certain aspects of my style leave her perplexed.

300
Posted on Wednesday, March 14, 2007 by Carl Trueman on Postcards from Palookaville

I see the new film `300' is stirring up controversy as an `anti-Iranian piece of propaganda.'

Posted on Tuesday, March 13, 2007 by Carl Trueman on Postcards from Palookaville

Had a terrible weekend.  I was at home with mum and dad when my Welsh speaking niece arrived wearing, of all things, a Cymru rugby shirt.   Virtual blasphemy in my father's house.   Still, after the Italian triumph on Saturday, I managed to cope. I gather the Sons of Glyndwr are blaming the English referee (who's always welcome to a pint at my expense when he passes through Philadelphia).  The culture of victimhood continues to thrive on the far side of the Severn, it seems.

Posted on Monday, March 05, 2007 by Carl Trueman on Postcards from Palookaville

Listening to Janis Joplin the other day, I was struck by two things.  First, my eleven year old son (who had never, to my knowledge, heard Joplin) commented as he heard the first bars of `Me and Bobby McGee' that he didn't know I had a Joplin album. To recognise the voice like that at 11 must make him a blues-rock prodigy. 

Posted on Friday, March 02, 2007 by Carl Trueman on Postcards from Palookaville

America is a great country.  Where else could I turn on the television this week and witness a serious debate about whether the televising of the Oscars last Sunday had adversely affected attendance at Nascar races that day?  It is difficult to be optimistic about the future of anything, be it democracy or church life, in a world where the only values worth discussing are those which can be measured in dollars and cents.   As Pascal memorably put it (and, before anyone complains, i'm just quoting here: `How full of merde humanity is.'