quasify

I am conceited, and thus am prone to the occasional autobiographical google-stalk. Every once in a while I’ll think to do a Technorati search too, which is how I found some guy talking about my dad. This guy was trying (apparently, successfully) to blog himself to an invite to the Snakes on a Plane premiere last year. In the process, he came across an article in the Arlington (MA) Advocate, where an intrepid reporter completely mischaracterized my father as some Blogging Baptist 2.0 kind of dude.

Since Brian F’s link is busted, here’s my dad’s real Snakes on a Faith piece. His basic premise is that consumption of the vile or salacious is morally and intellectually bankrupt, though he says so humorously and with more grace than I have here or the Advocate reporter managed.

The most interesting thing (again, from my self-centric perspective) about reading the Snakes on a Blog post was that I felt an immediate emotional reaction, particularly toward the inane ramblings of one commenter. I don’t usually feel protective towards my father; he doesn’t typically need me to, and my filial response was, for me, novel. I immediately wanted to defend him, after all, I am an expert on my father. I have a front row seat to my father’s decisions, actions and life. ‘Supersnake’ does not, his thoughts are inaccurate, immaterial and really shouldn’t matter. Yet somehow, in the short-term anyway, they did.

More of my dad’s writings (like his recent post, Chocolate Jesus), can be found on his quasi-blog, This I Believe.