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If someone you were interested in said this to you, what would you think?

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We interrupt this broadcast to bring you a special report.

Dumbledore’s gay. There, I’ve said it. Is your world radically different than it was a minute ago? Neither is mine.

Before discussing the matter further, here are some quick answers to most of the questions I’ve received throughout this week. My basic thoughts come down to:

1. Yes, I was initially surprised.
2. No, it doesn’t really bother me.
3. No, I don’t think it’ll have any long-lasting effects on the overall popularity or legacy of the book.
4. Yes, I think it’s okay for Rowling to “make him be gay.” They’re her characters, for heaven’s sake, she’s ultimately in control, and we’re just lucky she’s shared them with us.
5. No, it doesn’t change how I feel about the books. I like them as much as I always have.
6. No, I don’t think she waited until after book 7 to “out him” for any monetary reasons. (Nor do I think that any cowardice on her part caused her to hold her tongue until after its release.)
7. No, it doesn’t change my perspective of the Dumbledore-Harry relationship. (Nor any relationship Dumbledore had with any of his other students, for that matter. For heaven’s sake! He’s gay, not a pedophile or sexual predator.)
8. No, if you look through the book, I don’t think you’ll find any gay undertones. (So consequently, I don’t think it will have any effect on the kids who read it. I definitely don’t think it will “make them gay.”)
9. No, I don’t think she’s pushing any “gay agenda.”
10. Yes, I really am sick of hearing people be upset about it.

(Note, if you’re unsatisfied with my brief responses, let me simply echo the words of a more in-depth Mugglenet editorial. Amen, brother.)
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Argh! Today be International Talk Like a Pirate Day. Drink up, me hearties, yo ho!

But that’s not even the best part! While I was looking for background on how exactly this blessed holiday began, I stumbled across something even more enjoyable: The Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. (Yes, you did read that right.) Written as a clever retort for schools being forced to teach intelligent design in science classes, my main attraction to this religion is the witticisms of its creator. Those who belong to the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, known as Pastafarians, worship the Spaghedeity and also regard pirates as absolute divine beings (see the tie-in to today’s holiday?).

Furthermore, Pastafarians believe that pirates were actually peace-loving explorers who distributed candy to small children. They have also proved direct causality between the decrease in pirates and the increase in global average temperature (see below).

Personally, I think it’s brilliant. Scientific American compares the satire to Jonathan Swift’s A Modest Proposal. RAmen and RAmen.

(Full disclosure: So I’m a BYU alum and have technically never played a drinking game. Nor do I seriously condone them. But did you see BYU vs. Tulsa game tonight?!! Drinking away the shame seems like a perfectly reasonable response.)

So, without any further ado, I present to you the BYU Football Drinking Game. If you’re a BYU student, you can try using milk. Doubtless it’ll prove harder than the gallon challenge, and it’ll give you another explanation for that sick feeling in the pit of your stomach.

1 Shot:

• When a ref comes onto the field and says, “False start. Number 74 on the offense. Five yard penalty. Repeat [??] down.”
• BYU’s offense going three-and-out.
• Crappy punts. (Seriously, what is his deal?)

2 Shots:

• Anything along the lines of: “After review, the ruling on the field stands.”
• BYU’s quarterback getting sacked for a loss of yards.
• Missed PATs.

3 Shots:

• Any time a ref throws a flag and says: “Personal Foul. Number [??] on the offense. Fifteen yard penalty. Repeat [??] down.”
• Any time a receiver lets a perfectly catchable ball bounce of his hands. (Add an extra shot if that ball bounces off his hands and is caught by a player on the opposing team.)
• Most fumbles or interceptions (see exceptions below).

Drain the bottle:

• BYU’s QB throws an interception…inside the opponent’s twenty yard line.
• BYU’s quarterback fumbles the football…inside the opponent’s twenty yard line.
• Momentum-draining, game-sacrificing penalties in the fourth quarter.

The genocide in Darfur. The Crandall Canyon mine disaster. Read the news for three minutes, and it’s hard not to become overwhelmed by the human suffering. Especially when you realize that so many millions of lives are so intimately and infinitely effected by the things that so many of us know only superficially—AIDS and malaria, hunger and water crises, genocide and war…this nightmarish list could go on and on. So many things are so heartbreakingly wrong for so many people.

With all of this happening, where do you devote your time and attention? Do you support efforts to aid the civilians in war-torn Iraq or efforts to support the war-wounded U.S. soldiers and their families? AIDS efforts in Africa or AIDS efforts in the States? Cancer research or cancer patients? Seriously, I could donate my entire net worth to a charity, and it wouldn’t even make a ripple in the overall scheme of things. (Granted, as a twenty-something recent college graduate, my donation wouldn’t be that much.)

But the principle here…what good is one tiny bucket in the face of a hurricane?

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My new favorite person is whoever invented bedtime. I think maybe that was God. Or my mom. But, hey, whoever it was, they got it right.

Note: I have every intention of posting my thoughts on my recent trip to London. I really do. It’s just that every time I think of London right now, I feel forlorn and homesick (even though it’s not my real home) and it makes it extremely hard to concentrate on anything for the next several hours. So this post will be a little more on my current level of mental acuity.

Two things. First, on my recent trip to England, several times I found myself saying, “Wouldn’t it be cool if I lived then so I could have seen _________.” Second, I’m always playing mental games with myself. Maybe I’m crazy. Maybe it comes from my parents trying to keep me quiet and/or distracted. Regardless of the purpose, I’ll always find myself playing games with words and phrases. Combine those two and you get this post.

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So I just picked up my copy of Harry Potter 7 from the Waterstones at Picadilly Circus. (Can I just tell you I love the fact that I got the book seven hours before everyone else in the states??) It was the official release party in England. After six hours of waiting (in two sweaters and a Gryffindor robe, nonetheless) I finally got my hands on a copy. And I should be excited. All my questions will be answered. But the truth is that I just don’t know what to do with myself in a post-Potter world.

But I guess that won’t stop me from reading. Off to chapter 1.

The fourth of July is upon us once again. For the next week or two, it will become impossible to go outside without being greeted by an olfactory mix of barbecues, bug repellent, and the ever-present smoke and sulfur. We’ll be celebrating the birth of this great nation with full patriotic pomp and circumstance—parades and picnics, floats and flags, candy and crowds.

Yesterday, I went to my city’s annual patriotic celebration. In classic American tradition, this celebration has gotten bigger and better each year since its inception. The closing fireworks were so spectacular that they elicited involuntary “oohs and aahs” from even the most seasoned veterans of firework displays. It was a complete success. But really, does this pyrotechnic event truly symbolize our American identity?

One of the most famous American symbols, the Statue of Liberty, points us in another direction. Written in the pedestal on which the statue stands, is the following invitation:

“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

Not only does the statue welcome the poor and downtrodden to our country, it does so with an implicit promise that America will become a “land of opportunity” to these people, that circumstances in our country will be markedly better than those they left. Read more