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Brother Glock and the Woo Factor - Part 2

I nearly had a heart attack when I saw that Vic Vomodog and I had both liked a certain post. “How did that happen?” I asked myself in alarm. But then I saw that there was indeed common ground to agree upon. It is just that he took away an unjustified conclusion. He pumped his fist with a simultaneous high-five at mention that the GB Covid #4 update is just good sound human advice, and is absent any woo factor. But Vic chalked up too soon his victory. At most he should have flopped a limp fist with a simultaneous high-two.
For those who don’t know, the term ‘woo’ is a derisive term of the scientist/philosopher/atheist/cheerleaders—a group that is entirely different from scientists who just go about doing science, though there is some overlap—as so much from that quarter is. It refers to how the intelligent people will run past the dummies something the latter can’t understand, and so they attribute it to the supernatural, as in exclaiming like the gullible dolts they supposedly are, “Woo-woo!”
But sometimes they just kid themselves in their supposed enlightened superiority, as Vic does here—just like the intrepid explorer did when he suddenly found himself surrounded by primitive cannibals! He pulled a lighter from his pocket, flicked it, and a low flame emerged. The astonished natives gasped ‘Woo! Woo!’ and fell back. “MAGIC!!” the explorer said in a deep voice. “It must be,” the chief said. “That’s the first time we’ve ever seen one light on the first try!”

So Vomodog thinks he has “won” with the admission that the Covid update is just good human advice? He thinks that it proves his case somehow—to win an admission that the GB is not drawing on woo? I never thought that they were in this instance. Nor, I doubt did many. Nor, as likely as not, did Brother Glock, who gave the talk that started this ball rolling.

Here is a statement from Harry Cheadle, in NewRepublic.com: “The current moment [of responding to Covid 19] is demonstrating just how far away we are from being able to come together to solve a planetary crisis. The pandemic is a test, and we’re failing it.

This statement is true because nobody agrees on anything. Propose a course, and find yourself lambasted by a faction advocating the opposite course. The Governing Body is the only entity that can issue an update of Covid 19 without my saying, “What is their real motive here?” 

There is a public talk on making sound decisions that recognizes it is often not so crucial that you have made this or that decision, but it is crucial that you follow through on whatever you decide. This the greater world is unable to do. It is the paralysis of everyone challenging everyone else that collectively delivers the verdict, as Cheadle puts it, that “we’re failing the crisis.”

Jehovah’s Witnesses aren’t failing it, and it is because of completely human factors that they enjoy and the greater world does not. Witnesses have the ability to yield. They don’t insist on their own way. They do not have to “question authority” on every piddly little thing. They trust leadership. They see that the direction given obviously has their interests at heart, and that it is not too onerous—it allows for individual family headship, it allows that the circumstances of one family will not be that of another, and doesn’t try to tell them all what to do, even as it sets a greater overall theme of caution. In contrasts the direction of some human leaders range from draconian to complete laissez faire.

“Well, that’s just good sound thinking,” Vic would say, “based upon Bible verses that show good sound thinking. We could have done that.” But the fact is that he didn’t. And in fact, he can’t—because he has sided among those with a societal inability to agree, a societal inability to compromise, and a societal inability to endure delayed gratification. Return to the fold, and he will find it again, but it’s not to be found in the greater world that he has chosen.

In fact, I have no problem if Brother Glock does think that a woo factor is at work, nor would I ever rule out that there might be—it is just that you can’t “prove” it in the scientific sense. But the fact is, you can discard all the woo, and still have the greater argument. You still have Vic swimming in a chaotic cesspool of argument, indecision, and waffling. You still have him, like an insane Jeremiah, at the bottom of a miry cistern, trying to persuade Ebed-Melech to come down and join him. You still have him trying to sell you the bill of goods that your life would improve if you would just step over to the morass that is his.

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