North Korea Holds Massive Rally Against UN Human Rights Resolution

PYONGYANG, North Korea (AP) — North Korea held a mass rally Tuesday in its capital to protest a United Nations resolution condemning its human rights record.

Thousands of protesters in Kim Il Sung Square carried banners praising their leaders and condemning the United States. Such mass rallies are organized by the government and are used to express its official line. North Korea has denounced the U.N. resolution, which is the first to urge the Security Council to refer the issue to the International Criminal Court. That would open the possibility of its autocratic leader, Kim Jong Un, being targeted by prosecutors. The non-binding resolution is to come before the U.N. General Assembly in the coming weeks.

North Korea says the U.N. move is based on trumped-up allegations by defectors and backed by the United States and other countries seeking to overthrow its ruling regime. Its state media have been producing articles critical of the human rights situation in the United States and threatening severe retaliation against any attempts to bring down its government.

The resolution followed a U.N. commission of inquiry report early this year that said North Korea’s human rights situation “exceeds all others in duration, intensity and horror.”

How Should I Feel?

Angry? Sure. Angry sounds good. Anger is okay — no, preferred — when dealing with injustice.

Now, anger doesn’t have to — no, shouldn’t — lead to violence.

But sometimes it does; sometimes anger makes someone do something they will regret in the morning, possibly for the rest of their lives.

Do I think the people that set fire to those businesses in Ferguson will regret it? Possibly. Maybe not tomorrow, or in the next decade. But it’s possible that when they’re telling their grandkids about this pivotal moment in history they will wish they acted differently. Maybe they won’t. I don’t know.

Maybe Darren Wilson can’t sleep at night; and will forever be haunted by what he saw in his gun sight that day in early August: Michael Brown’s head moments before the fatal blow. Maybe he sleeps fine. I don’t know.

I don’t know — and who cares? The damage is done. Businesses are smoldering and Mike Brown has been dead for over three months.

So how should I feel? How should we feel?

These things happen all the time, right? They will happen forever, right?

It’s nice to think they won’t. It’s probably best to think life won’t always be like this.

Optimism is good.

But I know I’m going to have to tell my future children about this country. What should I tell them? I could tell them Columbus discovered it and police officers are here to protect it from bad people. I could tell them everyone is equal.

So what do I tell my son when his girlfriend’s father doesn’t want his little girl dating a black man?

Do I tell him what my mom told me? Do I let him know that’s just the way things are? Or do I tell him that man is an anomaly? That man is a cancer?

I don’t know.

And what should I tell my daughter if she wants to go to school in Missouri because Missouri has the best journalism school in the country?

Do I tell her what my mom told me? Do I pull her aside as often as possible, look her deep in the eyes, and ask: Are you sure? Do I tell her that Missouri is different from Chicago? Do I have faith in her strength, confidence that the world isn’t as bad as I think it is? Or do I refuse to let her go? Should I make sure she never leaves Chicago? At least in Chicago there is strength in numbers? Do I let one lie slide into another?

I don’t know.

And what if they both want to go to Missouri? What if Missouri is as unkind to them as it was to me? What if my son drinks too much and gets into trouble because a cruel environment drains his self-worth? What if my daughter feels isolated because she wants to love everybody, but nobody wants to love her?

What if they can’t take it and want to leave, but I tell them to be tough?

I’ll hear them crying over the phone, begging to come back to Chicago, sounding like hollowed out shells. I’ll hear this and say: “Toughness and resilience are what make our people great. Focus that fear and put it to work. Become exceptional.”

Or will I cry with them?

But what if I start crying too late?

What if they now feel leaving is a sign of weakness?

Do I tell them what my mom told me? Do I pull them aside as often as possible, look them deep in their eyes, and ask: Are you sure?

They’ll say, “I don’t know.” And I’ll say, “I don’t know.”

Who knows how you’re supposed to act when the world is set-up against you and you know it and you know you’re going to lose no matter what and you’re angry and sad and desperate in ways you’ve never felt but, somehow, you know you’ll feel like this forever?

But how do you tell that to your children?

And when I’m in my sixties and another unarmed black teen is killed and no justice is served; when my grandchildren innocently look up at me and ask: “Was it always like this?”

What will I say?

Will I tell them that Emmett Till was worse than Rodney King? That Darrion Albert was worse than Trayvon Martin? That Amadou Diallo was worse than Michael Brown?

Will I tell them that progress is slow? That every time more people seem to care?

Or will I look back at my life and wish I were angrier — more focused with my anger?

Will I tell my grandchildren that anger is the only thing the world responds to?

Or will I look at them gently and tell the truth?

I don’t know…

Not just LGBT issues: Why hundreds of congregations made final break with mainline denominations

In 2005, two congregations left the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) In 2006, three churches departed.

But the floodgates have lifted since then as decades-old tensions between liberals and conservatives have reached breaking points.

After a 2011 decision allowing gay ordinations, 270 congregations left in 2012 and 2013. And church analysts estimate upwards of another 100 churches may leave by the end of the year as presbyteries vote on a proposal to rewrite the church’s constitution to refer to marriage as being between “two people” instead of the union of “a man and a woman.”

In the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, some 600 congregations left in 2010 and 2011 following the denomination’s 2009 decision allowing the ordination of pastors in same-sex relationships.

That the denominations’ changing stances on gay ordinations and same-sex marriages were a key factor in the exodus is without question. But new research into why congregations decided to leave reveal differences on sexuality issues were only part of a much larger divide.

Among the broader, longstanding concerns that convinced departing congregations that they no longer had a home in their denominations that Carthage College researchers found were:

• “Bullying” tactics by denominational leaders.
• A perceived abandonment of foundational principles of Scripture and tradition.
• The devaluation of personal faith.

“The ones that left said reform was not possible,” said Carthage sociologist Wayne Thompson, study leader.

The Final Conflict

Each side suffered losses in the congregational exodus, according to researchers taking an in-depth look at the process at the recent annual meeting of the Society for the Scientific Study of Religion and the Religious Research Association.

The congregations that left were larger than the typical congregation, with some having more than 1,000 members. The losses for denominations already hemorrhaging members at historic rates have been significant.

For example, the more than 70,000 members in congregations leaving the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) in 2012 and 2013 accounted for more than a third of the denomination’ s 192,000 net membership loss for those years, researchers Joelle Kopacz, Jack Marcum and Ida Smith reported.

In turn, many of the congregations that left faced bitter battles over church properties. And a majority in the Carthage study reported at least some members left rather than switch.

So why did the congregations break away?

Leaders of churches departing from the ELCA said along with the policy on gay ordinations that the denomination was no longer a good fit for their churches and it was important for them to disassociate with the reputation of their former governing body.

More specific reasons included claims that some ELCA leaders were “dictatorial” and that the denomination was undermining the authority of scripture and was more interested in social justice work than traditional ministry, Carthage researchers John Augustine and Brian Hansen reported.

Departing Presbyterian leaders also characterized the policy on gay ordinations as “the straw that broke the camel’s back,” but far from the sole reason.

Their concerns included claims that the denomination was overly politicized and weakening biblical authority and traditional teaching on the divinity of Jesus.

“The situation in the PC (U.S.A.) was hopeless as I see it,” said one Presbyterian pastor who left with his congregation to join the Covenant Order of Evangelical Presbyterians.

“Our new presbytery is … trying to help us be successful without being bullied by a denomination that has turned its back on the Gospel of Jesus Christ.”

New homes

It was not as if these congregations chose the most theologically conservative new homes.

The great majority of congregations leaving the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) chose to join the Evangelical Presbyterian Church or the Covenant Order of Evangelical Presbyterians. Few chose to join the larger Presbyterian Church in America, which does not permit women clergy.

Similarly, congregations leaving the ELCA overwhelmingly bypassed the more conservative Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod and Wisconsin Evangelical Lutheran Synod denominations for the new Lutheran Congregations in Mission for Christ and the North American Lutheran Church.

Still, the future does not look bright for reconciliation, analysts noted.

“There is an exhaustion factor of having fought for decades,” Thompson said.

Among some denominational leaders, he said, there is a sense, “The bad guys have left.”

And leaders of congregations departing their former mainline Protestant denominations told Carthage researchers they were happy to be in a new place.

When the church leaders were asked if they had any regrets about their decision to leave, “The only thing they’d ever say is we should have left sooner.”

David Briggs writes the Ahead of the Trend column for the Association of Religion Data Archives.

How One Woman's Reinventing The Charity Dinner

Above: A farm-to-table dinner Torgrimson cohosted for Oxfam America and Eat for Equity.

By Erin Luhmann

When Hurricane Katrina hit in 2005, Emily Torgrimson, then a budget-strapped college student, wanted to raise money for New Orleans — and naturally headed to the kitchen. “I spent my teenage years living on a farm without cable,” the 29-year-old says. “Cooking is how I entertained myself.” Torgrimson made 60 pounds of Cajun jambalaya and asked each of the 30 roommates in her co-op to donate a few bucks and invite friends. About 100 people arrived, whetting her appetite to give back.

The next year, Torgrimson cofounded the nonprofit Eat for Equity, which offers communal, locally sourced feasts to support various charitable causes. Her gatherings serve up to 200 people at a sitting, at prices no one can beat: “Someone can pitch in $10, $20 or time washing dishes.” The operation has grown beyond Torgrimson’s own galley kitchen to the homes of Eat for Equity volunteers across the country, and has raised some $166,000 for organizations like Oxfam America and Kids in Crisis.

To spread the word, Torgrimson recently set out in an RV trailer renovated as a mobile kitchen, organizing dinners in eight cities (nothing too fancy — kale with bacon dressing; berries and cream). Movable feasts can be challenging: In Tennessee, she fed 100 hungry people in 90-degree heat that melted her meringue. In between chopping vegetables and working the grill, Torgrimson tried, but failed, to save dessert. “These meals are far from perfect,” she says. “I’ve come to realize it’s about the people, not the pavlova.” Head to EatForEquity.org to learn more — and even host a dinner.

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The Best Dystopian Novels Everyone Should Read

The newest addition to the Hunger Games franchise has recently hit theaters, and between that and the success of “The Leftovers,” the dystopian genre is back in the spotlight. I’m not a scientist or anything, but I predict that many gifts of grim futures will be given this holiday season.

Dystopia can be bleak, which may make its popularity seem odd (even Cormac McCarthy probably reached for a comedy to read after Mockingjay). But the genre holds a certain allure. A typical tale involves a future society with an oppressive government that demands conformity. Sometimes this is in the wake of a disaster that has befallen humanity. Sometimes the oppressive government exists just because its rules are convenient to the plot.

Stakes are high. Resilience is tested. If you can look past the occasionally goofy names of characters and places, it’s material that makes for compelling drama.

Like all genres that skyrocket to trendiness, there are many authors that jumped on the dystopia bandwagon who possibly shouldn’t have. So if you find yourself curious about exploring the crowded genre, I thought I’d take this opportunity to help you weed out some gems from the duds.

I’m mostly focusing on contemporary books, but I can’t talk about dystopia without mentioning its MVPs: Ray Bradbury, H.G. Wells, and Aldous Huxley. Now, here is an eclectic range of corrupt-authority-ridden goodness:


The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood
I couldn’t possibly make a dystopia list and not begin with this. Although this isn’t Atwood’s best work (that’s The Blind Assassin) it’s a good introduction to dystopia. It’s short and it tackles the big guns of potential Horrific Future Regimes: religion and the subjugation of women. I will say, slight spoiler, the end is maddeningly frustrating because there is none– the story stops abruptly in the middle of a scene. However, this is a good litmus test for the often-frustrating genre: if you can handle this ending, than you can handle dystopia.


Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel
This book is more concerned with what a post-apocalyptic world means for the humans living in it than it is with sensationalizing a Disaster or whatever else you might expect from dystopia. If that’s not enough to hook you, the world involves a traveling Shakespearean theater company. The plot also includes an homage to “Star Trek.” Now, I’m a terrible failure of a nerd and am not actually into “Star Trek,” but I hear a lot of people are. So. That’s worth mentioning.


Unwind by Neal Shusterman
This is by far the best entry in the overstuffed category of YA dystopia, even beating classics like The Giver. The premise is America in the not-too-distant future in the aftermath of a civil war between Pro-Life and Pro-Choice factions. The compromise they reach mandates the sanctity of life for all babies, but if they grow into problem teens, they are sent away for organ harvesting.

Calling it a beautiful book might sound odd, because parts of it are horrifying. But it explores its concept with grace and thought and humanity, and it will stay with you long after you finish the last page. If the last few chapters don’t have you feeling all of the emotions, you have no heart. It’s the first in a quartet, but you can also treat is as a standalone. The fact that this book isn’t seeing the same level of popularity as The Hunger Games is a capital crime.


How I Live Now by Meg Rosoff
A stream-of-consciousness style would normally cause me to put a book back on the shelf. But somehow, not only does Rosoff make it work; I couldn’t imagine the story told any other way. Unfortunately, this means the film adaptation did not work. But the book is engrossing and even includes magical realism — just enough to give the world a certain tone, not enough to turn it into Hogwarts.

Just so that you don’t say, “Yuck, why didn’t you warn me?” if you read it, I should warn you about the main relationship. Let’s just say the Lannisters would approve. However, this is one of the few stories in which I can actually say incest works, or at least doesn’t make me vomit, because that’s the point: the dystopian situation creates an environment in which that seems like the least irrational thing happening. But if it sounds too off-putting, I can assure you it’s a minor part of the story and most sexy-time occurs off-screen.


Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro
I have to be vague about describing this one if you haven’t read it. However, plot aside, this is an example of a male author nailing a female voice. Some authors writing opposite gendered characters go overboard in their attempts, but this is just right. Plus, what’s not to like about an English boarding school setting? I did have problems with the ending and I think Ishiguro could have made a different choice, but the book is highly acclaimed so it looks like I’m in the minority.


The Silver Metal Lover by Tanith Lee
The premise of this book sounds like a bad porno: a girl falls in love with a robot. The cover isn’t much better. In the hands of another author, it might be one of those stories that’s so busy being Shocking for the sake of being Shocking that it forgets to say anything at all (I’m sure you know stories like that). But Lee, a veteran of weird tales, spins a surprisingly touching and philosophical story that explores the nature of being, sentience, consciousness, and superficiality.


The Leftovers by Tom Perrotta
I’ll be honest, I hesitated to include this because not only did I not love it, it actually made me angry. It was a great premise… that went nowhere. Wasted good ideas might be even worse than bad ideas. If only someone who was willing to do something with it had thought of it! That’s where the show comes in. But, with some exceptions, I believe if you watch an adaptation, you should read the book. So I begrudgingly include it. It helps that Perrotta is a sharply witty, engaging writer even when he says nothing. And there is one aspect of the book that is superior: the son’s storyline, which is blander than watching beige paint dry in the show, is mildly interesting in the book. Maybe if you try listening to the show’s dramatic soundtrack while you read, it will trick you into feeling like more Meaningful Things are happening.


The Lottery by Shirley Jackson
I’m including this one as a bonus because isn’t a novel. It’s also breaking my rule of making this list contemporary. I won’t even describe this short story vaguely; I’ll only say read it if you want goosebumps. I don’t know that it’s traditionally classified as dystopia, but I’m giving it my non-existent Dystopian Seal of Approval.

Have others to add? Disagree with me? Have at it in the comments.

The Real 'Anna Karenina': Through Tolstoy's Eyes

Anna Karenina gets around. She’s had a second career touring the world, dropping in on television studios and movie sets, portrayed by Greta Garbo, Sophie Marceau, Vivien Leigh, and Jacqueline Bisset, among others. Russian comic book artists even reinvented her in a graphic novel set in the New Russia, complete with “cell phones and cocaine, sushi bars and convertibles.” And the latest screen version, with Keira Knightley as Anna, put us squarely in the realm of fan fiction, presenting the story reimagined as a theatrical production.

And, of course, the novel has been translated into English many times.

But what if none of those translations fully appreciated, let alone conveyed, the true glory of Tolstoy’s characters and story lines and the perfect way they mesh because they failed to notice that Tolstoy made some of his most important points not explicitly but in the way he used language? That he did at least as much showing as telling?

What if Tolstoy was an innovative stylist as well as a masterful psychologist and storyteller?
Tolstoy’s style thrilled and actually astonished me when I reread Anna in the late 1990s, decades after my last reading. Here was a writer after my own heart, breaking rules and conveying facts, ideas, and opinions in ways that were not just unconventional: they were confrontational.

Tolstoy stripped down his vocabulary, used repetition to create rhythm, to emphasize, and to create webs of meaning that he cast over the entire novel. And these are just the beginning.
Even a look at the first page reveals some of these innovative devices.

Tolstoy gets right in the reader’s face at the very beginning with the so very famous first line about happy and unhappy families. “All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way” — as many translations render it.

It’s human for the reader to want a neat dichotomy here: happy families are one way and unhappy families are the opposite. Happy families are all alike (as it is so often mistranslated), and unhappy families have their special ways. But Tolstoy did not, in fact, say “identical” or “alike.” He said that happy families “resemble one another.” In other words happy families do have many things in common, but the differences can be interesting. He does not dismiss them outright.

This lexical nuance is only a starting point. “Resembles one another” is simply longer than “alike” or “identical.” The sheer word count slows the reader down, drawing attention to this subtle point. The book’s high drama may center on the unhappy families, but Tolstoy also wants us to take careful note of Levin and Kitty, one complicated but ultimately happy family.

It’s a technique Tolstoy uses over and over in the novel. He piles up words to slow the reader down. He forces the reader to physically spend more time on the points he wants to emphasize.
Take the paragraph immediately following the famous opening.

Stiva Oblonsky — who, as we later learn, is Anna’s brother — has been found out in an affair with his children’s former governess. We would be justified in expecting Tolstoy to tell us in so many words what a bad man Stiva is (this is not his first offense) and how terribly his wife and family are suffering as a consequence.

But he does not say this in so many words. In fact, characters are described as “bad” only when they describe themselves (as does Anna, in a rare moment of clarity).

What Tolstoy does say is that Stiva’s actions have destroyed his home’s order — “The Oblonsky home was all confusion” (as in the Tower of Babel). Tolstoy practically bludgeons the reader with his insistence that we need to be looking at the consequences of Stiva’s actions for his household, rather than for Stiva himself, when he repeats (with slight variations) the same phrase three times in the space of two sentences, twice back to back:

“This had been the state of affairs for three days now, and it was keenly felt not only by the spouses themselves but by all the members of the family and the servants as well. All the members of the family and the servants felt that there was no sense in their living together and that travelers chancing to meet in any inn had more in common than did they, the members of the Oblonsky family and the Oblonsky servants.”

Tolstoy could easily have replaced the second instance of the phrase with a pronoun, or split up the first two phrases — as past translators have done. He could have said straight out that this “state of affairs” had made the entire household “very unhappy.” Instead, Tolstoy slows the reader down at the critical point, signaling his greatest concern: what happens to a husband, a wife, or a child when a person they love, trust, and rely upon violates that love, trust, and reliance. Stiva does it to Dolly. Anna does it to Karenin, Vronsky, and most damningly, her son and daughter. Their wrong is in hurting others.

Like her brother Stiva, Anna is too self-centered to be guided by concern for others. Contrary to popular opinion, Anna Karenina does not glorify its tragic lovers. Anna Karenina is not a beautiful and passionate woman who sacrifices everything to be with the love of her life but a beautiful and passionate woman who is also self-centered and dishonest and wreaks havoc on those who love her and ultimately on herself.

No one wrote of love and suffering more magnificently than Tolstoy. But you won’t find the novel’s depth or beauty in any Hollywood screenplay. Anna Karenina isn’t a soap opera. It’s a masterpiece.

Marian Schwartz’ new translation of Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina has just come out with Yale University Press.

The Discomforts Of Digital Music

When it comes to music, the mood prompted by digital technology has shifted in recent years, from carnivalesque to callous. Pop star Taylor Swift is only the latest to bring attention to the trouble musicians are in, recently withdrawing her recordings from the streaming service Spotify, protesting its royalty scheme. In light of such high-profile outrage, it is easy to forget that there are still opportunities to use the Internet to access music more ethically–Bandcamp is one, and so (I’m told) is Drip.fm. In these alternate economies, artists and audiences can mingle, and build one-to-one relationships, to a degree that was rarely possible in the analog era.

For such alternate economies to stand a chance, however, we listeners will have to become more curious, occasionally taking risks with art we might not like. Some would say that that’s a lot to ask of human nature, especially in an age of profusion. When music has become yet another set of big data, choosing what to listen to can feel like an existential dilemma. A study from a few years back suggests that though we finally have our celestial jukebox, many of us are inclined to tune most of it out, gravitating toward music we think other people like. Call that laziness, or fear, or ennui–in any case, amid predictions of an otherwise bleak financial future, it’s a godsend for the mainstream music industry, whose business model has always preferred that listeners obsess over superstars and hits (or, in the highbrow formulation, geniuses and masterpieces).

Indeed, more than a century since the first commercially successful recordings, that obsession seems harder than ever to shake–for record executives, artists, and fans alike. Our mania for music sanctioned by both market and culture has trickled down to even the fringiest genres. Consider an argument recently made by Jeff Winbush in a review of a new disc by the pianist Hiromi. “For jazz not only to thrive, but survive,” Winbush writes, “it must begin to create its own superstars who can deliver a much-needed shot of adrenalin to the flagging art form, but possess skills in social media and marketing, creating a global brand, and finding new forms beyond record sales, radio play and live gigs in fewer clubs and concert halls to reach the new breed of jazz fans.”

Call me crazy, but I think that’s terrible advice, however well-intentioned–not only for jazz (which is hardly flagging, by the way), but for music as a whole. What we need are not more superstars, but none. To me, the real gift of digital technology is not the feeding frenzy of infinite free music; it’s the possibility of fostering artistic communities that are viable precisely because they are intimate and idiosyncratic, and because they form spontaneously, through the unprecedented channels of communication to which we now have access. If such communities are allowed to derive from shared passion, shared passion itself will nurture economic justice.

I know the counterargument: to get quality music, you need institutions, hits, and a marketing budget big enough to feed a small country. I’m not convinced. Even in the industry’s heyday, plenty of beautiful recordings were made on relatively primitive equipment, and with a serendipitous spirit (listen to Elvis’s early Sun sides, for instance). Even if they hadn’t been, in 2014, the state of the art has been democratized, mostly. More to the point: we no longer need the external validation of a hit single or top ten list or some other impersonal arbiter to show us where the “good stuff” is. There is so much music being made now that, whatever your taste, good stuff is everywhere. You’ve just got to be willing to listen for it.

The sad truth is that, whatever desire for mass ritual it fulfills, the top-down idea of music has proved to be about as culturally healthy as a factory farm, or a big box store, or a for-profit university. Concentrated into the hands of fewer people than ever, musical fame now mirrors other societal wealth imbalances (“the top 1 percent of bands and solo artists now earn 77 percent of all revenue from recorded music,” Derek Thomson reports). It turns the long tail into an especially lonely place, duping too many listeners into thinking they’ve found what’s important before they have even started looking. Indeed, we ought to stop this talk about a long tail altogether–as if some music belongs at the rump of the industry. We need a new metaphor–a “wide meadow,” perhaps, with an endless variety of flora, and no one species ever getting so big that it takes over.

A recent Matthew Inman (aka “The Oatmeal”) comic summarized in four frames what most critics of the situation, understandably focused on the short-term, tend to overlook. In “The State of the Music Industry,” Inman moves from the big label greed of the old days, to the Internet’s disruption of that system, to the digital monopolies that hound us now. But in the last frame, he envisions a future in which music is what it should have always been: a meaningful interaction between two people, probably friends. One who plays, and one who listens. Note the former middleman reduced to a whinging figure in the background.

That’s what the Internet could still bring us, if we bother to meet the technology halfway. Some psychologists say our brains are wired for fluency–“people prefer things that are easy to think about,” as Tom Kuntz recently put it–suggesting that we can’t help mainlining the same old hits. But wiring can be rewired. A yoga teacher I know once described the feeling of reaching beyond the familiar as finding “comfort in discomfort.” I like that way of putting it. If you love music, you already know it will survive the current era–but know too that how it survives may depend on your being uncomfortable, at least some of the time.

Andrew Durkin is the author of Decomposition: A Music Manifesto.

___________________
Also on The Huffington Post:

Lincoln University President Resigns After Rape Remark Furor

LINCOLN UNIVERSITY, Pa. (AP) — The embattled president of a historically black university in Philadelphia’s suburbs quit Monday, ending a tumultuous semester of sharp criticism and administrative introspection following remarks in which upset parents said he appeared to be blaming women for rape.

Lincoln University’s board of trustees said Monday morning it accepted Robert Jennings’ resignation and named general counsel Valerie Harrison as acting president.

“The future is bright for Lincoln,” board chairwoman Kimberly Lloyd wrote in a letter on the school’s website.

Jennings, 63, could not immediately be reached for comment Monday.

Harrison, in her own letter, said the university would form a task force comprised of students, faculty and staff to develop educational programs and strengthen efforts to prevent sexual misconduct. The university, she said, will invite experts on gender equity and sexual violence to speak on campus.

Jennings resignation came a week after Lincoln’s board of trustees said it would conduct an internal review of his nearly three-year presidency amid outcry over his remarks at an all-women’s convocation in September about how false rape allegations can ruin a young man’s life.

“Don’t put yourself in a situation that would cause you to be trying to explain something that really needs no explanation had you not put yourself in that situation,” Jennings told the university’s all-women’s convocation, according to excerpts of his talk posted on YouTube.

Jennings also warned the female students that men can deceive and exploit them and urged them to respect themselves and demand respect from men.

“Men treat you, treat women, the way women allow us to treat them. We will use you up if you allow us to use you up,” he said, adding that men will “marry the girl with the long dress on.”

Jennings apologized earlier this month, saying he intended only “to emphasize personal responsibility and mutual respect” and did not mean to hurt or offend anyone. He urged students to report any suspicion of sexual misconduct to university police or officials.

Jennings’ remarks were the latest source of derision in his tenure at the 1,800-student university in rural Chester County. Faculty members took a vote of no confidence on Jennings in late October, five months after a similar vote by the university’s alumni association.

They cited declining enrollment — including a 7.3 percent drop after his first year — as well as a decrease in endowment and negative financial ratings. Since 2009, Lincoln’s full-time equivalent enrollment has fallen 26 percent.

14 Weird Words That Literally Contradict Themselves

Words. Words. Words. Millions of them. Delightful little toys for wordsmiths like me. I particularly enjoy special categories of words which have something in common, e. g. Contronyms. Every schoolboy and schoolgirl knows synonyms and antonyms, but what are contronyms?

Contronyms are words (or sometimes short expressions) which have two more or less opposite meanings. No, “bridegroom” is not a contronym, though it includes two contradictory words but not opposite meanings. It is a synonym for “groom.” The word strike is a contronym; It can mean hit, as in hitting someone, or it can mean miss, as used in baseball.

Contronyms (sometimes spelled contranyms) can also be called self-antonyms, auto-antonyms, antagonyms or Janus words (two-faced), though the word contronyms is most widely used. They have existed as long as most languages, with the possible exception of those using Chinese characters or pictograms. For example, the Spanish word huésped means both host and guest. In Hebrew and Yiddish, shalom means both hello and good by, as Aloah does in Hawaiian. Shalom means peace and aloah means love, which possibly explains both these uses. The word “contronym” itself, however, probably did not appear until 1962 in the works of Jack Herring.

If you like to play with words, the English language gives you many opportunities. For example, Palindromes are words or expressions spelled the same backwards and forwards, e.g. words such as deed, noon and level, or the names Hannah and Otto, or a longer word such as redivider. If you include expressions, you can find much longer palindromes such as Madam, I’m Adam or a Toyota, race car. [Ignore the punctuation.] Lots of fun; Try to see how long an expression you can put together. Retronyms are old words, which need an additional amplifier to bring them up-to-date, due to social, political or technological changes. Examples are acoustic guitar, analogue clock, fresh air and unsafe sex. (Figure it out yourself.)

In addition, there are language categories which bring a smile to the face or a loud guffaw –Spoonerisms, Wellerisms, Malapropisms, Tom Swifty’s and Paraprosdokia. Spoonerisms are tongue-twisters such as “tips of the slongue.” Malapropisms involve words which sound alike but, when misused, embarrass the speaker. Example: Going way back to Gracie Allen, “You could have knocked me over with a fender!” Users of Wellerisms quote a common saying, and follow it with a ridiculous example. “I see,” said the blind carpenter, as he picked up his hammer and saw.” Tom Swifty’s (based on a children’s book) start by stating an action and following it with an amusingly descriptive adverb, e.g. “We must hurry,” said Tom swiftly. {Get it?] Paraprosdokia means starting a sentence with one thought and then abruptly shifting to a totally different (and usually contrary) one. Quoting Groucho Marx, “I’ve had a wonderful evening, but this wasn’t it.” Comedians love paraprosdokia.

Add twisted, double-meaning newspaper headline bloopers (New Bridge Held Up by Red Tape) and words spelled the same but pronounced differently (An immigrant coming into a bookstore, asking for a book to “Polish my English.”) and you have a cocktail of amusing and fascinating examples of things which make our language exciting.

Add to these words which combine letter and number sounds to cut down on verbiage. e.g. 4C for foresee, K9P for canine pee and LEV8 for alleviate, and you have additional material for playing language games.

But, let’s get back to contronyms. I have nearly 100 of them in my knapsack. Let’s provide the reader with a few prime ones:

Bolt
To hold together (as in mechanical bolting) or to separate by fleeing.

Clip
To connect (as with a paper clip) or to detach (as in clipping your hedge).

Fix
To repair (as in putting together) or to castrate (as in cutting apart).

Garnish
To add to (as with food preparation ) or to take away (as with wages).

Handicap
An advantage (to insure equality, as in golf) or a disadvantage (that prevents or minimizes equal achievement).

Hold up
To support (as in Liberty holding up the torch) or to impede (as in holding up legislation).

Lease
To rent property, or to offer property for rent.

Out
Visible (as with the moon) or invisible (as with an electric light).

Sanction
To approve, or to boycott.

Screen
To present, or to conceal.

Skin
To remove (as in skinning an animal for its fur). or to cover.

Trim
To decorate (as with a Christmas tree) or to remove excess (as with a mustache).

Wear
To endure, or to deteriorate.

Wind up
To start (as with a clock) or to end (as with a business).

How do these contradictory meanings come about? We don’t always know, but they do originate in different ways. For example, cleave (to adhere or to separate) come from Old English roots, the first from clifian and the second from cleofan. Oversight probably resulted from confusion of the verbs overlook and oversee when people started the use them in nouns. Other contronyms such as seed and dust probably had similar origins when verbs were appended to describe how they were to be moved. Dusting involves either adding dust or removing dust. Seeds are scattered during planting, but removed from the resulting fruit. A number of others arise from different usage in the United States and England. For example, to table a bill in the English Parliament is to put it on the table for consideration. In Congress, it means to set it aside. When an American Judge enjoins someone, he forbids him or her from carrying out a certain action. When a British Judge enjoins, he is directing the party to act. If a West End play in London is a bomb, it is a huge success. In America, a bomb is a failure. There are undoubtedly other reasons for the rise of these words, but origin of these contradictions is often obscure.

I hope the reader has enjoyed this awesome blog on Contronyms, even though, in Old English, it would have been considered “awful.”

Marv Rubinstein is the author of The Compendium Of American English.

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Also on The Huffington Post:

Don Lemon Sparks Outrage With Marijuana Comment In Ferguson

Don Lemon really needs to start to think before he speaks on live television.

The CNN anchor was describing the scene from outside the Ferguson police station Monday night, just moments after the announcement that police officer Darren Wilson would not be indicted for killing unarmed teenager Michael Brown. Speaking with Anderson Cooper, Lemon reported hearing the sounds of gunfire and saw protesters jumping on cars.

And then he said: “Obviously, there is the smell of marijuana in the air.”

But to viewers at home, that wasn’t obvious at all. The comments sparked backlash on Twitter:

H/T Gawker