If I could catch the fucker who posted the last comment / essay about investing money into some stock... I'd fuckin kick his fuckin head in!!! Karate Temple Style!
Galileo Galilei was born in 1564 into a Europe wracked by cultural ferment and religious strife. The popes of the Roman Catholic Church, powerful in their roles as both religious and secular leaders, had proven vulnerable to the worldly and decadent spirit of the age, and their personal immorality brought the reputation of the papacy to historic lows. In 1517, Martin Luther, a former monk, attacked Catholicism for having become too worldly and politically corrupt and for obscuring the fundamentals of Christianity with pagan elements. His reforming zeal, which appealed to a notion of an original, “purified” Christianity, set in motion the Protestant Reformation and split European Christianity in two. In response, Roman Catholicism steeled itself for battle and launched the Counter-Reformation, which emphasized orthodoxy and fidelity to the true Church. The Counter-Reformation reinvigorated the Church and, to some extent, eliminated its excesses. But the Counter-Reformation also contributed to the decline of the Italian Renaissance, a revival of arts and letters that sought to recover and rework the classical art and philosophy of ancient Greece and Rome. The popes had once been great patrons of Renaissance arts and sciences, but the Counter-Reformation put an end to the Church’s liberal leniency in these areas. Further, the Church’s new emphasis on religious orthodoxy would soon clash with the emerging scientific revolution. Galileo, with his study of astronomy, found himself at the center of this clash. Conservative astronomers of Galileo’s time, working without telescopes, ascribed without deviation to the ancient theory of geocentricity. This theory of astronomy held that the earth (“geo,” as in “geography” or “geology”) lay at the center of the solar system, orbited by both the sun and the other planets. Indeed, to the casual observer, it seemed common sense that since the sun “rose” in the morning and “set” at night, it must have circled around the earth. Ancient authorities like Aristotle and the Roman astronomer Ptolemy had championed this viewpoint, and the notion also coincided with the Catholic Church’s view of the universe, which placed mankind, God’s principal creation, at the center of the cosmos. Buttressed by common sense, the ancient philosophers, and the Church, the geocentric model of the universe seemed secure in its authority. The Ptolemaic theory, however, was not impervious to attack. In the 16th century, astronomers strained to make modern observations fit Ptolemy’s geocentric model of the universe. Increasingly complex mathematical systems were necessary to reconcile these new observations with Ptolemy’s system of interlocking orbits. Nicholas Copernicus, a Polish astronomer, openly questioned the Ptolemaic system and proposed a heliocentric system in which the planets—including earth—orbited the sun (“helios”). This more mathematically satisfying way of arranging the solar system did not attract many supporters at first, since the available data did not yet support a wholesale abandonment of Ptolemy’s system. By the end of the 16th century, however, astronomers like Johannes Kepler (1571–1630) had also begun to embrace Copernicus’s theory. Ultimately, Galileo’s telescope struck a fatal blow to the Ptolemaic system. But, in a sense, the telescope was also nearly fatal to Galileo himself. The Catholic Church, desperately trying to hold the Protestant heresy at bay, could not accept a scientific assault on its own theories of the universe. The pressures of the age set in motion a historic confrontation between religion and science, one which would culminate in 1633 when the Church put Galileo on trial, forced him to recant his stated and published scientific beliefs, and put him under permanent house arrest.
When I'm in New York but feeling lonely for Wyoming, I look for the Western movie ads in the subway. But the men I see in those posters with their stern, humorless looks remind me of no one I know in the East. In our earnestness to romanticize the cowboy, we've ironically disesteemed his true character. If he's "strong and silent," it's probably because he has no one to talk to. If he "rides away into the sunset", it's because he's been on horseback since four in the morning moving cattle and he's trying, fifteen hours later, to get home to his family. If he's "a rugged individualist," he's also part of a team: ranch work is teamwork and even the glorified open range cowboys of the 1880's rode up and down the Chisholm Trail in the company of twenty other riders. It's not toughness but "toughing it out" that counts. In other words, this macho, cultural artifact the cowboy has become is simply a man who possesses resilience, patience, and an instinct for survival. "Cowboys are just like a pile of rocks-everything happens to them. They get climbed on, kicked, rained and snowed on, scuffed up by the wind. "Their job is just to take it," one old-timer told me.
5 Comments:
Yo guy... is it me... Or it she so beautiful!! I've checked my blog like 30 times already just to look at my beautiful Elise!!
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If I could catch the fucker who posted the last comment / essay about investing money into some stock... I'd fuckin kick his fuckin head in!!! Karate Temple Style!
Galileo Galilei was born in 1564 into a Europe wracked by
cultural ferment and religious strife. The popes of the Roman
Catholic Church, powerful in their roles as both religious and
secular leaders, had proven vulnerable to the worldly and
decadent spirit of the age, and their personal immorality brought
the reputation of the papacy to historic lows. In 1517, Martin
Luther, a former monk, attacked Catholicism for having become too
worldly and politically corrupt and for obscuring the
fundamentals of Christianity with pagan elements. His reforming
zeal, which appealed to a notion of an original, “purified”
Christianity, set in motion the Protestant Reformation and split
European Christianity in two.
In response, Roman Catholicism steeled itself for battle and
launched the Counter-Reformation, which emphasized orthodoxy and
fidelity to the true Church. The Counter-Reformation
reinvigorated the Church and, to some extent, eliminated its
excesses. But the Counter-Reformation also contributed to the
decline of the Italian Renaissance, a revival of arts and letters
that sought to recover and rework the classical art and
philosophy of ancient Greece and Rome. The popes had once been
great patrons of Renaissance arts and sciences, but the
Counter-Reformation put an end to the Church’s liberal leniency
in these areas. Further, the Church’s new emphasis on religious
orthodoxy would soon clash with the emerging scientific
revolution. Galileo, with his study of astronomy, found himself
at the center of this clash.
Conservative astronomers of Galileo’s time, working without
telescopes, ascribed without deviation to the ancient theory of
geocentricity. This theory of astronomy held that the earth
(“geo,” as in “geography” or “geology”) lay at the center of the
solar system, orbited by both the sun and the other planets.
Indeed, to the casual observer, it seemed common sense that since
the sun “rose” in the morning and “set” at night, it must have
circled around the earth. Ancient authorities like Aristotle and
the Roman astronomer Ptolemy had championed this viewpoint, and
the notion also coincided with the Catholic Church’s view of the
universe, which placed mankind, God’s principal creation, at the
center of the cosmos. Buttressed by common sense, the ancient
philosophers, and the Church, the geocentric model of the
universe seemed secure in its authority. The Ptolemaic theory,
however, was not impervious to attack. In the 16th century,
astronomers strained to make modern observations fit Ptolemy’s
geocentric model of the universe.
Increasingly complex mathematical systems were necessary to
reconcile these new observations with Ptolemy’s system of
interlocking orbits. Nicholas Copernicus, a Polish astronomer,
openly questioned the Ptolemaic system and proposed a
heliocentric system in which the planets—including earth—orbited
the sun (“helios”). This more mathematically satisfying way of
arranging the solar system did not attract many supporters at
first, since the available data did not yet support a wholesale
abandonment of Ptolemy’s system. By the end of the 16th century,
however, astronomers like Johannes Kepler (1571–1630) had also
begun to embrace Copernicus’s theory.
Ultimately, Galileo’s telescope struck a fatal blow to the
Ptolemaic system. But, in a sense, the telescope was also nearly
fatal to Galileo himself. The Catholic Church, desperately trying
to hold the Protestant heresy at bay, could not accept a
scientific assault on its own theories of the universe. The
pressures of the age set in motion a historic confrontation
between religion and science, one which would culminate in 1633
when the Church put Galileo on trial, forced him to recant his
stated and published scientific beliefs, and put him under
permanent house arrest.
When I'm in New York but feeling lonely for Wyoming, I look for the Western movie ads in the subway. But the men I see in those posters with their stern, humorless looks remind me of no one I know in the East. In our earnestness to romanticize the cowboy, we've ironically disesteemed his true character. If he's "strong and silent," it's probably because he has no one to talk to. If he "rides away into the sunset", it's because he's been on horseback since four in the morning moving cattle and he's trying, fifteen hours later, to get home to his family. If he's "a rugged individualist," he's also part of a team: ranch work is teamwork and even the glorified open range cowboys of the 1880's rode up and down the Chisholm Trail in the company of twenty other riders. It's not toughness but "toughing it out" that counts. In other words, this macho, cultural artifact the cowboy has become is simply a man who possesses resilience, patience, and an instinct for survival. "Cowboys are just like a pile of rocks-everything happens to them. They get climbed on, kicked, rained and snowed on, scuffed up by the wind. "Their job is just to take it," one old-timer told me.
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