How can this be? If Christian numbers are exploding, how can they be left so far behind Muslims in the rate of expansion? The answer lies in differential demographics, namely that some parts of the world are growing much faster than others. Islam grew so mightily because Muslims were so heavily concentrated in those regions that maintained very high fertility rates throughout the twentieth century, chiefly in Africa and Asia. A rising tide lifts all faiths.

In contrast, overall Christian numbers lagged because that faith was traditionally concentrated in Europe, and Europe’s demographic growth has been very slow in comparison with other parts of the globe. Back in 1900, Europeans made up around a quarter of the world’s population, but by 2050, that number will probably be closer to eight percent. In 1900, there were three Europeans for every African. By 2050, there should be three Africans for every European. If we take Europe out of the picture, then, Islam and Christianity have been running a very close race worldwide, but Christians find it hard to overcome that demographic handicap.

When I am asked about the world’s fastest growing religion, then, I answer unequivocally: Islam. Or, Christianity outside Europe.

It often happens that two schoolboys can solve difficulties in their work for one another better than the master can. When you took the problem to a master, as we all remember, he was very likely to explain what you understood already, to add a great deal of information which you didn’t want, and say nothing at all about the thing that was puzzling you. I have watched this from both sides of the net; for when, as a teacher myself, I have tried to answer questions brought me by pupils, I have sometimes, after a minute, seen that expression settle down on their faces that assured me that they were suffering exactly the same frustration which I had suffered from my teachers. The fellow-pupil can help more than the master because he knows less. The difficulty we want him to explain is one he has recently met. The expert met it so long ago he has forgotten. He sees the whole subject, by now, in a different light that he cannot conceive what is really troubling the pupil; he sees a dozen other difficulties which ought to be troubling him but aren’t.

— C. S. Lewis, “Introductory” to Reflections on the Psalms

Reviewing the bipartisan justifications for war in Iraq should serve as a stark reminder to brash liberals, confident conservatives, and strong-government types across the political spectrum that government is a foolishly, frustratingly human endeavor, its projects marked by error and hubris, arrogance and incompetence. To put it bluntly: These people do not know what they are doing—and neither, as the fawning media coverage of Bush’s war of choice reveals, does anyone else. Quite the opposite, in fact. They all believe fervently that they know exactly what they are doing, that their plans are foolproof, their designs magnificent, their will strong, their aims noble and historic and humanitarian. But what bloody follies like Iraq reveal is that so many of those tasked with either making or explaining the decisions that affect the lives (and deaths) of thousands or even millions are self-deluding fools, oblivious to the consequences of their own power, and their plans and intentions—whether good or bad or indifferent—do not matter when compared with their violent, ugly results.
The Vatican has an annual operating budget of under $300 million, while Harvard University, arguably the Vatican of elite secular opinion, has a budget of $3.7 billion, meaning it’s ten times greater. The Vatican’s “patrimony,” what other institutions would call an endowment, is around $1 billion. In this case, Harvard’s ahead by a robust factor of thirty, with an endowment of $30.7 billion.
Challenges to vision of a ‘Poor Church for the Poor’ | National Catholic Reporter. Thanks to @pegobry on Twitter for the link. You can think about this two ways. One is, Wow, the Vatican is not as wealthy as I thought. The other is, I knew Harvard was rich, but this is ridiculous.
Arrested Development is exploring the more playful, outré structural possibilities offered by the new platform on Net­flix. Each episode will cover events from a different character’s point of view, like a com­edic Rashomon. There will be moments and Easter eggs that will make sense only in retrospect. There will be a suggested viewing sequence, but it will be pos­sible—even rewarding—to watch out of sequence. Cross describes the new structure as being “like if you could mash up a Venn diagram with a nautilus shell. And then put that inside a Möbius strip.”

Hurwitz may not have all the time or money in the world, but he does have unprecedented freedom. Because Net­flix doesn’t have to worry about commercial breaks or time slots, he can make episodes of variable lengths that can run in any order. (He even briefly considered designing the new season as a choose-your-own-­adventure story.) He can make television built to be binged. “In its purest form,” he says, “a new medium requires a new format.”

I am writing to apply for the position of Pope. I recently received my Bachelor of Arts, or “artium baccalaureus,” from Dartmouth College, with a major concentration in Theatre Studies and a minor concentration in Computer Science. While I have been focusing on the technology and financial sectors, I have recently decided to widen my job search to include top non-profits, such as your organization. I became aware of the availability of the position of Pope through the Dartmouth listserv; I am greatly impressed by the achievements of The Catholic Church and share many of its goals. I believe my qualifications and outlook make me a unique and interesting candidate for Pope and I would be enthusiastic to grow with The Catholic Church.
What are terms of service? Remember the last time you signed up for a Web site and clicked through several pages of fine print? Yep, that was it. Chances are, you didn’t read it, and didn’t think that it might be a federal felony to violate the provisions that it contained. The Justice Department has repeatedly taken the position that such violations are felonies. In the prominent cyberbullying case Lori v. Drew, a federal prosecutor asserted that violating MySpace’s terms of service would be a federal felony. Similarly, the indictment threatening Aaron Swartz with thirty-five years in prison depended, in part, on a terms-of-service violation: when Swartz tried to download thousands of academic articles, he did so as an authorized guest user of the M.I.T. network. He didn’t actually “hack” or “break” into the network; he violated the terms of service for guests by downloading too much stuff.

The broadest provision, 17 U.S.C. §1030(a)(2)©, makes it a crime to “exceed authorized access, and thereby obtain… information from any protected computer.” To the Justice Department, “exceeding authorized access” includes violating terms of service, and “any protected computer” includes just about any Web site or computer. The resulting breadth of criminality is staggering. As Professor Kerr writes, it “potentially regulates every use of every computer in the United States and even many millions of computers abroad.” You don’t have to be a raving libertarian to think that might be a problem. Dating sites, to borrow an example from Judge Alex Kozinski, usually mandate that you tell the truth, making lying about your age and weight technically a crime. Or consider employer restrictions on computers that ban personal usage, like checking ESPN or online shopping. The Justice Department’s interpretation makes the American desk-worker a felon

natgeofound:

Pilgrims bathe in the Narmada’s 160-foot-tall Kadil Dhara waterfall in India, November 1988.
Photograph by James P. Blair, National Geographic
A decade-plus past its prime, The Simpsons has a stronger presence in American life than Cheers, Seinfeld, Community, or any other sitcom you can think of. Since Matt Groening’s show debuted in 1988, not a week has gone by that I haven’t thought about it, quoted it, or heard someone else quote it. The writing staff’s vacuum cleaner has ingested so much data and imagery that it’s hard for a fan to think about a significant TV show, movie, play, musical, painting, song, fairy tale, myth, or historical incident without remembering how The Simpsons made fun of it. Cheers is a flawless pearl glinting on a beach. But The Simpsons is the beach. It’s bigger than Cheers, bigger than sitcoms, in some ways bigger than television. It’s our virtual Smithsonian and Library of Congress, our collective data cloud, the Force, or Farce, that surrounds us, binds us, and holds the galaxy together. The Simpsons losing the Vulture comedy bracket? That’s unpossible.