I think that by now it is no secret that I am far from being an advocate of what is called "contemporary worship" in the church. One can go so far as to say that I outright oppose the secularization of worship music, and for some reason I have not yet written out my reasons why. But I have ordered my thoughts, and it is more than apparent to me that the conversion of musical worship into a sensationalist, artsy and superficial neo-religious rock concert makes absolutely no sense to me. What confuses me even more than this movement's own inherent foolishness is how we were so imprudent as to allow it to even happen, especially given the theological context in which it has occurred.

Given the degree to which we have strayed from the original paradigm for musical worship, our current permutation of it is far from being worshipful, it is an insult to God. I find it alarming that there is no difference in appearance between pop/rock groups and so-called "Christian" musical groups. I have heard the catchphrase that is Romans 12:1 repeated and quoted ad nauseum, but to no effect. Here we are, supposedly making every effort to not conform to the world, and yet we think it's permissible to emulate the trends in secular music. God is being represented in the musical industry by talent-starved halfbrains wearing black eyeliner. And it has totally escaped Christian detection.

But undoubtedly the argument arises that it is the attitude of the worshiper that determines the quality of worship, and that the style of music makes no difference. Then someone might explain to me why not a single hymn has ever been sung at an FBC summer camp, and why there isn't so much as a solitary hymn in the youth worship books. But of course it's absurd to suggest that we would cater to the ever-growing population of youths, who are largely responsible for evaporating every semblance of ceremony and reverence from the church. We profusely point accusatory fingers at evangelical movements who strive to make Scripture more relevant and "up-to-date," but somehow it escapes all consciousness that we are doing the same thing with worship.

Not only has the quality of the music been seriously downgraded, but so has the quality of the church musician. The liturgical chorales of Bach and Handel required people with musical abilities, who could read music and play an instrument. That has been replaced with the buffoonery of anybody who can incontinently spew out chords on a guitar. The music of the former was written using a rhythmically precise and harmonically firm system of notation. But somebody thought that a more fitting replacement would be an arbitrary smattering of chords and words, which gives no indications of rhythm, orchestration or voicing.

We have fallen from the sacred worship that God requires. Our attempt to make worship more palatable for youths is causing a compromise of doctrine and respect for Him. I hope that at the very least there will come a realization of this much for anyone reading this.

Alright, we one-sided Mac users have always known how awesome Apple is. They've converted lowly PC users into technological artistes, commercialized Unix, and, most importantly, Steve Jobs got an other-worldly sense of stylishness when he petitioned Satan for all those black power turtlenecks.

So, lest Apple should lose a single kg • m/s of momentum, Apple has come up with the world's thinnest notebook computer.

Now, I'm not one to blindly drool over every new product Apple comes up with, but even the most hardened PC user has to admit that the MacBook Air is way cool. I mean, it has a full-size keyboard that lights up when it detects low ambient lighting, and they still manage to fit the bezel with a built-in iSight camera.

The only thing I found kind of disappointing about the Air, besides its apparent fragility, is the absence of an optical drive. Apple made up for this, however, by allowing the Air to read CDs via proxy, namely another Mac. (There's also a USB SuperDrive available, an additional $99 after buying the Air.) Still, Apple does admit that this notebook won't soon replace your desktop. It's strictly an on-the-go notebook, touting features like a 5 hour battery life, and available Solid State HDs. Oh, and you can carry it around in a manila folder if you want to.

Alright, time for some more bloggage to keep you busy while you avoid studying for finals.

If you've looked at the right sidebar, you may have noticed that I'm reading a biography of Shostakovich. I'm enjoying it so far, probably because I haven't reached his overwhelmingly depressing later years. One thing I find fascinating about that time period (1940s) is how composers were regarded in the USSR. It's amazing how Shostakovich was regarded in the same way we view rock stars in the U.S., except with dignity and talent. He was actually not allowed to fight in World War I because he might get killed, and the Soviet government made a priority of evacuating him and his family to safety. Shostakovich's quiet artistic rebellion and devotion to 'light music' is extremely admirable, considering his opera Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District was banned, and he was criticized harshly on several occasions by editorials in Pravda, a main vessel of Soviet propaganda.

At my piano lesson this past Friday, I found out that Mr Subchak actually saw Shostakovich live at a premiere of the aforementioned opera. Not only that, he has seen Sviatoslav Richter in concert, and he has played violin with David Oistrakh. I've decided that Russian composers are my favorite, although which one I can't quite decide.

I'm not entirely sure of what requirements are in place by which Starbucks measures the worthiness of the masses of aspiring baristas to man the stands at the mall and on street corners around the globe.

But I'm quickly finding that my order is invariably given to varying forms of a perky college student with a greasy coiffure and godly clear skin. I don't know if this is some kind of a prerequisite for employment, or if it's just what becomes of any ordinary person subjected to a caffe mocha or two every half hour. Either way, I personally find their almost obnoxious happiness unbearable, even if I only experience it for a total of thirty seconds at a time. The knowledge that I'm subjecting my body to this common poison makes me wonder if I might someday wake up to find myself hopeful for the future of mankind, effusing this effervescent demeanor in a constant stream of caffeine-driven optimism. If this curse should ever come upon me, it will be a billion arguments too soon.

One might be tempted to think it unfair to be so privileged as to bask in the coffee-induced delirium of the Starbucks barista. However, thoughts of racing, pumping hearts and erectile dysfunction quickly beckon us back to reality. Still, the syrupy goodness of a white chocolate mocha, and perhaps also the image of everlasting youth taking your order, eventually bring us back for more. (Coffee, that is.)