Sometimes I feel like a nitpicking asshole.

I mean, I try to look at the big picture of things (and ask the broader questions) but every time I do that, it seems the smaller, more mundane details just creep up on me and get in my way, hit me in the face. Or even spill all over the place. They can range from the definitions of words to hotly debated pieces of history such as the Crusades, and when words can't be agreed on, when basic facts can't be agreed on, how on earth can I hope to look at the big picture, and focus on philosophical questions? In a previous essay, I conceded CAIR's point about the Crusades as something that tended make Christianity look bad. I did this not because I am out to avenge the victims of the Crusades or have any dog in that particular race, but because I wanted to look at the mechanics of the argument. Yet by conceding that, I ran afoul of the argument that the Crusades were a good thing. The merits of the Crusades were not what I wanted to debate, for that would take at least an essay-length post. And that would be superficial, as books -- many books -- have been written on the subject.

So, OK, people are sensitive about the Crusades. They think they were justified, or at least should be seen in the context of the times, and the larger Islamic threat or something.

I don't like to devote too much time to avoiding giving offense to anyone's sensitivities, but then I don't like these endless distractions either. I just wanted an example of something most people would not consider to be a stellar example of Christian conduct. So, I thought, should I have maybe used the Inquisition as an example? Would that have "worked"?

No, it would not have worked. Because last month, I was out to dinner with some friends, and when the issue of the Inquisition came up, I was immediately scolded by a friend whose father is a Jesuit scholar, and who maintains that the Inquisition was largely a "myth" made up by Protestants at war with Catholicism. That its methods were humane, that only a maximum of twenty five people were killed, etc.

Sure enough, there are plenty of web sites like this arguing that the Inquisition was a myth, and Inquisition denial seems to be a thriving cottage industry. The BBC had a special called "The Myth of the Spanish Inquisition," and of course there's the usual (disputed) Wiki entry. And the books . . .

Let me therefore stop right here and say something: this post is not about the Inquisition! I only thought I might use it in the sense of assume-for-the-sake-of-argument (wish I could just say "AFTSOA") example, but I realize that I can't. Because to do so, I'd have to devote an entire essay to the Inquisition.

Siht, (sic) what's my point here?

I'm getting buried with nits I'm complaining about not wanting to pick!

If you use something as an example in the context of larger discussion, the central argument can easily be lost if someone takes issue with the underlying merits of the example -- even if the merits of the example really belong elsewhere, in a debate about that subject.

In the post in which I "gave away" the Crusades, I also thought I could point to Aztec sacrifices and cannibalism as things we could all agreed upon as morally egregious, but I discovered that no, there isn't agreement even on that. What that means is that in order to generalize about things, or discuss the logical premises in arguments, I need to constantly endeavor to be more careful, or at least preface everything with "assume this," "assume that," or "if this is correct," and of course, "for the sake of argument." I can do it, but it seems like a lot of busywork, and sometimes I wish I could just say what the hell I think and run the risk of being "offensive."

I could, and I can. But being offensive is just not my style. If I vent and let loose with a string of ill-thought-out generalizations, profanities, and ad hominem attacks, I'd lose the whole point of what blogging means to me, which is an attempt to use logic, reason, and analysis to find out what I really think.

Venting is a bit like having a temper tantrum. It has its place (and I have done it in posts) but like any fit of temper, it's only of limited value, and it tends to be self-indulgent. If I stub my toe, or if I try to pour a cup of coffee and it dribbles all over the counter, I'll lose my temper and probably let loose with the usual profanities.

But would I write them down and sign them?

No, because such things are silly distractions, although the underlying experience might ultimately generate a blog post (or, as is happening right now, a few paragraphs in a blog post).

I might point out that finally at the tender age of 51 I discovered the precise mechanism that made my coffee pot dribble, and now that I have learned to work around it, I need no longer wail and scream about the stupid coffee pot which "always" leaves a black pool on the countertop as well as streaks along the face of the cabinet underneath.

I did this by trial and error, by filling the carafe with water and pouring it repeatedly into the sink. To my utter amazement, I discovered that whoever had engineered it had made the assumption of a zero-degree, straight, line line-of-sight pour (the way you would pour if you held the pot straight in front of you and lined up the indentation like a gun sight). The carafe, I discovered, did not dribble unless it was tilted in an off-line manner!

Obviously, this meant that the engineers who designed the thing were thinking in a linear manner. They assumed that a human arm would pour in the same straight, line-of-sight manner as would a robot arm. I'm no engineer, but I don't think they took into account the nature of the human arm, or the human wrist. Because, if you take a carafe (especially a full one) and aim its neck towards a coffee cup, unless you are "correcting" yourself your aim will be far from centered on line-of-sight. Because of the nature of my wrists, when I tilt the full carafe my natural tendency is not to tilt it in a straight line, but to tilt it to the left while pouring, so that instead of flowing in the direction it seems it should, the coffee is actually pouring towards the left. And thus the dribbling.

The solution, of course, was simple. I learned that all I have to do is correct the angle, by deliberately rotating my wrist and tilting the carafe towards the right, and thus making it line up straight. (It's counterintuitive, of course, as it doesn't "feel" right. It feels as if you're tilting the thing to the right, which you are not.)

I'm sure most housewives (and most engineers) already know this, and I'm ashamed it took me nearly a lifetime to figure it out on my own.

But it beats having a tantrum.

Not to change the subject, but while I'm nitpicking, am I crazy for wanting to know just wanting to know what precisely is the name of the city which suffered the al Qaeda attack?

Earlier this week, it was Mumbai in many of the reports.

But yesterday it was "Bombay":

BOMBAY, India - It took just minutes.

One by one along the railway line, the bombs went off, ripping apart the trains, tearing through flesh, and paralyzing what is arguably India's most vibrant city.

And today, it's still Bombay:

BOMBAY, India - The soggy, crumpled photograph shows a young man grinning at the camera.

An inconsolable Vasanti Chavan is afraid it is the last happy photograph she will ever have of her 24-year-old son, Chetan.

Q. OK, my first question isn't really about the attacks. Why do some people call the city Mumbai and some call it Bombay?

A. A good question. Bombay was the name that the imperial English bestowed on the city, a corruption of the name first given by Portuguese traders in the 16th Century.

The local state government changed the official name back to Mumbai, always the city's name in the native Marathi tongue, in 1995. News agencies seem divided over which to use.

How about the blogosphere? According to Technorati, as of right now,
Bombay at 91,669 is losing to Mumbai at 127,379.

And no. I refuse to engage in an ideological analysis to see which "side" I am supposed to "choose."

The bombing is a horrific event, and I wanted to write about it. But I feel this same creepy feeling of digust that if I say "Bombay," someone might correct me. But then, if I say "Mumbai" someone might correct me. Not that I am in any way obligated to reply. But is this a political litmus test of some sort?

Might deliberate deference to the unnecessary renaming of a city be one of those things Arnold Kling called a "trust cue"?

Which way am I supposed to tilt without spilling my mental contents all over this nice clean blog?

Sigh.

All this nit-picking makes me feel like engaging in risk taking behavior and engaging in preemptive nit-picking, by deliberately planting nits to be picked.

How could I do that?

Well, how about pointing out that the Inquisition actually came to Bombay! And on the heels of the fall of the Sultans of Gujerat:

The rule of the Sultans of Gujarat over the archipelago of Bombay came to an end with the arrival of the Portuguese. In 1508 the first Portuguese ship, captained by Francis Almeida sailed into Bombay harbour. The Portuguese were already at war all along the coast of India. In 1534, with just 21 ships, they managed to defeat the kingdom of Gujarat, and extracted, among many concessions, rights to the islands of Bombay.

India was not a priority for the Portuguese. Francis Almeida had been sent to the east to secure the spice trade for his country. The most lucrative part of this trade lay further east. Bombay and the Arabian sea was important only as a staging post to Malacca. Almeida's successor, Albuquerque, consolidated their position by taking control of Goa in 1510, Malacca in 1511 and Hormuz in 1515.

The northern parts of the Portuguese holdings in India, mainly on the coast of Gujarat, were defended out of their fort in Bassein, present day Vasai, on the mainland north of the islands, and stronghouses were built in Bandra, Mahim, and the harbour of Versova. Control over Bombay was exerted indirectly, through vazadors who rented the islands.

The vazador of Bombay was a certain Garcia da Orta. He built a manor house on the island in 1554. On his death in Goa, in 1570, the island was passed on to his sons. During this time Bombay's main trade was in coconuts and coir. The island of Salsette also exported rice.

The Portuguese encouraged intermarriage with the local population, and strongly supported the Catholic church; going to the extent of starting the Inquisition in India in the year 1560. The result was a growing mixed population which supported the Portuguese in times of strife. However, their intolerance of other religions, seen in the forcible conversion to Christianity of the local Koli population in Bombay, Mahim, Worli and Bassein, had the effect of alienating the local population.

I guess I can hope that the people who blow things up are not misinterpreting history or engaging in historical nit-picking. God forbid that I should be asked to choose between the lovable Spanish Inquisition and warm and fuzzy Sultans of Peace.

(Could irony be called a "distrust cue"?)