This week in Steve McConkey: lies, futility and inanity

Steve McConkey, who claims to have operated a ministry for Christian track athletes (read: “I’ll try to help you not be gay anymore”) since 1981 but doesn’t have a single endorsement on his websitecontinues to complain about mindfulness meditation. He is concerned that this secular practice, the efficacy of which has a modicum of empirical support, is is replacing Christian prayer in the professional and sports world. He also cautions against engaging in yoga, which is evil for reasons Steve chooses to not disclose. He proposes in yet another “worldwide press release” (i.e., an Internet posting) that non-Christian prayers carry “the potential of opening up the user to the darkness.”

This development, from the standpoint of a babbling idiot, is indeed a gross injustice. As anyone with only slightly less insight than a gnat is aware, just as no one can be both a weightlifter and a runner, it’s absolutely impossible to be a Christian and engage in any sort of contemplative reflection besides prayer (“prayer” in this context meaning “beseeching the God of the Holy Bible to enact certain Old Testament precepts while complete ignoring the foundational tenets of Jesus’ message”).
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This week in Steve McConkey: Meditation is “dangerous” and a “false religion”

My new friend Steve McConkey has been busy this week at his job, which is getting angry at the various ways in which the United States is not a Christian theocracy.

As is Steve’s tireless habit — I discovered that he even has his own tag on “Right Wing Watch” — he’s using distortions of reality to maximize his level of personal unrest. For example, yesterday, he titled one of his complaints “Trump, GOP Congress Give Planned Parenthood $500 Million In Taxpayer Funds,” as if this is something new (it’s not). But since this nominally a running blog, and Steve McConkey has historically focused his energetic stupidity on track and field athletes, I’ll focus on his major track-related gripe of the week: Nike’s new “Headspace” app. (In a version of this complaint he posted two days ago, he mentioned 2016 U.S. Olympian Colleen Quigley’s endorsement of the technique, but later scrapped it. He does quite a bit of this sort of rant-tweaking and screed-juggling.)

The potential utility of mindfulness meditation is sports is well established, though in need of further study. (I’ll admit that the name “Headspace” reminds of this.) But I won’t spend time here analyzing this because it’s not central to the point, which is that Steve McConkey is lying about what this technique is, how people are using it, and the possible effects of trying it.

He starts with the usual breathless hyperbole:
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Living on handouts to combat gay athletes is tough work, but someone’s gotta do it

[Ed.  note: this post is being updated regularly to reflect new discoveries revealing just how messed up Steve McConkey is.]

I admit that I questioned whether this exposition belongs on a running blog, or anywhere. It will, after all, do no more than briefly focus attention on a person with dubious aims and substandard cognitive abilities for the benefit of a handful snickering people, and will likely result in zero net effects on the human circus as a whole. But since that sums up virtually everything I post, including things I write about myself, why quit now?

The other night, one of my many provocateur-friends called attention to a public Facebook post on the page of one Steve McConkey, who has vague connections to the track world (and whose name I immediately read as “McMonkey” thanks to this glorious parable about racism and hucksterism, a true gem in the invaluable Dr. Seuss canon).

By the time I saw this, it had elicited a predictable groundswell of full-throated dunce-yawps couched as pitying sentiments for Hawking, whom the ersatz-faithful were positively certain was now being tormented for all eternity in Hell by their boundlessly compassionate ecclesiastical fetish-figure. This kind of Hawking-bashing fun sprung up all over the Web; I’m betting that at the news of Hawking’s overdue demise, a few old-coot fundies somewhere in the Incest Belt experienced the faint stirrings of an erection for the first time since Sarah Palin was on a national ticket.

Continue reading “Living on handouts to combat gay athletes is tough work, but someone’s gotta do it”