Ann Coulter is no stranger to controversy, and that seems to be the way she likes it. Many feel she's less a political pundit than a 'shock artist' -- something like the Andrew Dice Clay of the US political scene. Some of the things she says read like hyper-aggressive charicatures of Christian doctrine. Her throwaway comments about bombing Muslim nations and forcing their leaders to convert to Christianity are famous, for example. Few thoughtful Christians I know demonstrate anything but embarrassment when she's brought up -- her consistently spiteful attack-dog style often crosses lines of traditional Evangelical taboos, too. Yet she's still regarded as 'part of the team' by many conservative Christians.

We should not call ourselves "humanists," or "secular humanists," or "naturalists," or "skeptics," or "anti-theists," or "rationalists," or "freethinkers," or "brights." We should not call ourselves anything. We should go under the radar—for the rest of our lives. And while there, we should be decent, responsible people who destroy bad ideas wherever we find them.

Sam Harris, noted atheist and author of Letter to a Christian Nation, delivered this interesting address to the Atheist Alliance conference in Washington D.C. My curiosity about the man has definitely skyrocketed -- his advice to atheists mirrors a lot of the things I've told fundamentalist Christian friends. (When one asked me what The Church could do to change the world, I replied, "Stop talking about God and make people sandwiches.")

Jeff Benson, one of the oldschool members of Growing Up Goddy, has posted an interesting question on his blog: Can we choose what we believe? It has wide-ranging implications for various schools of Christianity -- for almost any belief system, really. I know there's a strong argument to be made that humans respond far less to 'reason' than they do emotional cues, but we all want to think that we've arrived at our beliefs in a logical, enlightenment-friendly sort of way...

Twenty years ago this month, I was an enthusiastically odd kid with an Atari 800XL computer and a daisy-wheel printer. I decided that I wanted to publish a magazine. It's strange looking back on that decision, as it ended up becoming a major chunk of my life for almost seven years. It's how I decided I wanted to be involved in Christian media, how I got linked in to conservative politics, and how I ended up getting my first real tastes of freelance writing and graphic design. It's how I ended up co-hosting the 700 Club once, too...

I believe it's entirely meet and appropriate to post here and say "y'know what, life intervenes, sorry 'bout that." And it does. I won't get into my own excuses, but they're pretty good.

But if I'm going to toss an oar in, I'd better have something to chew on.

We were at an outlet mall in Gaffney, South Carolina, this past weekend - for reasons that involve a four-hour journey to fetch a car (see, I told you, pretty good excuses). The book store in the outlet mall was a wonderful treasure trove of old and new Christian books, almost exclusively Zondervan-published. And my wife, who knows me and loves me and understands my hardcore geekiness, dug a tome entitled Not Just Science out of the pile.

And, of course, my first response was: Egads, if I had known Zondervan was publishing textbooks...

I think I have a good excuse for my absence--moving to a different city and starting a new program at a new school--but I wanted to pop my head in and post a link.

This American Life is a radio show that I highly recommend. It never ceases to be entertaining and compelling, and it doesn't hurt that they use great music between segments.

But this week's episode (only downloadable until next Sunday, but you can always stream it) has a great third act that I am sure anyone who grew up goddy will particularly enjoy.

For social conservatives dissatisfied with other GOP choices, the "Law & Order" actor and former Tennessee senator represents a Ronald Reagan-like figure, someone they hope will agree with them on issues and stands a chance of winning.

But Thompson's less-than-clear stance on a federal gay marriage amendment and his delay in entering the race are partly responsible for a sudden shyness among leading evangelicals.

So in writing that previous post I ran into the old problem (again) of calling people 'Christian' when their beliefs and behaviors are really distinctive to a particular subset. It's not quite Evangelical, not quite Charismatic, not quite Fundamentalist, not quite ... well, any specific branch of theology or doctrine. But what to call it? What to refer to it when talking?

Fundagelical? Evangamentalist? Charigelalist? Johnnycakes?

"I don't know if he even knows who he's praying to," [Tim Wildemon, president of the AFA] said.... David Barton, president of WallBuilders, a foundation that researches and promotes the Christian origination of American law and culture, said the Hindu belief in multiple gods contradicts the U.S. motto of "One Nation Under God."

Sometimes, I get angry. Often, I get angry at Christians. Why? Probably for the same reason that folks find it easier to get angry at a family member than a stranger. You know them well, you've seen their spots and wrinkles, and for better or worse, you think that they should know better than to do whatever it is that pissed you off.