Herr Beethoven

Ludwig van Beethoven was born seemingly equipped for both personal tragedy and greatness. His father, Johann van Beethoven was a court musician and tenor vocalist who made a living but never lived up to his musical ambitions.

Lacking the natural ability, self-discipline, or simply opportunities necessary for recognition, Johann pinned his hopes (and his pain) on Ludwig. Relentlessly and mercilessly, Johann drilled young Ludwig, trying desperately to form a child-genius akin to Mozart. Whenever Ludwig faltered in his energy or made a mistake, he risked anything from a whack on the hand to a savage alcohol-induced beating.

While modern psychologists would predict that such treatment would cause young Ludwig to detest playing music, let alone composing it, the boy developed the talent that must have been within him all along. He began performing in public by age seven, and before he was a teenager he was a published composer with his Nine Variations for Piano in C Minor achieving modest acclaim. He earned his first court appointment as a musician at the tender age of 14 (at 14 I was pretty good at the NES), and world-class musicians began to take note of him.

When Beethoven was 17 years old, he met and played for none other than Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, who quipped something like "Watch this lad, one day he will force the world to talk about him."

While Beethoven was trained in the mathematically precise style of classical music, as in Mozart or Hayden, his turbulent personality began to form a new age in music. Nearly everyone noted his disheveled hair and haphazard dress, and no one could ignore the look in his eyes, as if he was ready to explode. To say that he was moody would be an understatement. His natural talent, coupled with the countless beatings at the hands of his father had forged a new kind of music; a music not just of the mind, not just of the soul, but a music of the inner pathos: passion--passionate love and passionate rage. His compositions were a blend of mathematical proportion (a la classical style) and a new blood stirring, emotional quality. When famed classical composer Joseph Hayden first heard Beethoven performed, he was disturbed by the turbulent nature of Beethoven's music. He would later train under Hayden's supervision, but nothing that Hayden could teach seemed to control Beethoven's style. Other's, however, recognized Beethoven's new spirit and admired him for it. Observing him in later years, John Russell described Beethoven at the piano:

"He seems to feel the bold, the commanding, and the impetuous, more than what is soothing or gentle. The muscles of the face swell, and its veins start out, the wild eye rolls double wild, the mouth quivers, and Beethoven looks like a wizard, overpowered by the demons whom he himself has called up."

Beethoven not only composed music outside of the norm, he distributed it abnormally by working essentially as a free agent, selling his works and organizing concerts for profit. Ironically, this stage of his life brought the moments when he started to recognize the first signs of his impending deafness. At first it was seemed, perhaps, like nothing but paranoia: just a slight causeless noise in the background. However, by 1801 the sound that he described as a buzzing or whistling noise became constant. Soon, he could not make out low tones, especially in speech, and any background noise overwhelmed him.

Could there be a worse fate for a virtuoso and master composer, to know slowly, painfully slowly, that he was losing his most treasured of the five senses? In a letter of July 1801, Beethoven confessed to his friend, Karl:

"How often I wish you were here, for your Beethoven is having a miserable life, at odds with nature and its Creator, abusing the latter for leaving his creatures vulnerable to the slightest accident. . . . My greatest faculty, my hearing, is greatly deteriorated."

As the symptoms progressed, Beethoven withdrew from friendships and society, to wallow in his secret shame: "How can I, a musician, say to people, "I am deaf!" I shall, if I can, defy this fate, even though there will be times when I shall be the unhappiest of God's creatures. . . . I live only in music." At other times, he was as obstinate as his reputation: "I will seize Fate by the throat. It will not wholly conquer me! Oh, how beautiful it is to live, and live a thousand times over!"

One thing became clear: Beethoven could no longer perform in concert. He could retire completely and sink into an alcoholic abyss (as his father had), or he could turn to the music of his heart. The music that he could hear inside, even if he could hear nothing outside. He began to compose.

As he came to grips somewhat (he never really did) with his handicap, Beethoven began to appreciate more the things that he saw. Nature became his muse, and his Second Symphony was written as a tribute to it. But still, he writhed back and forth between inspiration and despair, to the point that many believed he had gone mad.

He would at one moment be hopeful and at the next morose. But soon he felt inspired by the dashing Corsican in command of an army meant to spread a new ideal. The ideals were liberty, equality, and fraternity; and the Corsican was Napoleon Bonaparte. Beethoven himself was a revolutionary of sorts, in music, and his music was the dawn of a new age. In Napoleon, he saw a different branch of that new age, and he latched on to it as a surrogate hope.

Beethoven composed his Third Symphony Eroica for Napoleon. And as Napoleon tore down the vestiges of old Europe, Eroica tore down the axioms of classical music. It was, perhaps, more revolutionary, for Napoleon betrayed his revolution when he pronounced himself Emperor--to which Beethoven raged to a friend, "Now he will crush the rights of man. He will become a tyrant." But while Napoleon played Judas, the Eroica never turned on itself. It left many listeners baffled. Others were horrified. But most were simply awed. What came across in so many ways as random, uncontrolled tonal emotion had behind it an order. It was not mathematical precision, as in Mozart or Hayden. It was mathematical passion.

And the passion deepened.

His Fifth Symphony, perhaps his most famous (though not his best--that would be the Ninth Symphony) Beethoven faced his arch-nemesis, Fate (those notes at the beginning? That's Fate knocking at the door), and he took it by the throat.

His Sixth Symphony was another dedication to nature. The man oscillated such.

He would compose three more symphonies, all of them brilliant. Nothing, however, touches the Ninth, known for its "Ode to Joy" chorus, based upon the poem by Friedrich von Schiller. I will not attempt to describe the music beyond saying that it is the most beautiful thing ever composed, and it makes the heart leap and the soul sing. Hearing it, one can scarcely believe that the man who composed it was completely deaf.

Schiller's words are translated from Beethoven's original score as follows. Reputedly, the vocal part of the 4th Movement (the "Ode to Joy Chorus" is one of the most challenging tasks for even the most skilled singers).

Joy, beautiful spark of the gods,
Daughter of Elysium,
We enter fire imbibed,
Heavenly, thy sanctuary.

Thy magic reunites those
Whom stern custom has parted;
All men will become brothers
Under thy gentle wing.

May he who has had the fortune
To gain a true friend
And he who has won a noble wife
Join in our jubilation!

Yes, even if he calls but one soul
His own in all the world,
But he who has failed in this
Must steal away alone and in tears.

All the world's creatures
Draw joy from nature's breast;
Both the good and the evil
Follow her rose-strewn path.

She gave us kisses and wine
And a friend loyal unto death;
She gave lust for life to the lowliest,
And the Cherub stands before God.

Joyously, as his suns speed
Through Heaven's glorious order,
Hasten, Brothers, on your way,
Exulting as a knight in victory.

Joy, beautiful spark of the gods,
Daughter of Elysium,
We enter fire imbibed,
Heavenly, thy sanctuary.

Be embraced, Millions!
This kiss for all the world!
Brothers!, above the starry canopy
A loving father must dwell.

Can you sense the Creator, world?
Seek him above the starry canopy.
Above the stars He must dwell.

Be embraced, Millions!
This kiss for all the world!
Brothers!, above the starry canopy
A loving father must dwell.

Can you sense the Creator, world?
Seek him above the starry canopy.
Above the stars He must dwell.

Joy, daughter of Elysium
Thy magic reunites those
Whom stern custom has parted;
All men will become brothers
Under thy gentle wing.

Be embraced, Millions!
This kiss for all the world!
Brothers!, above the starry canopy
A loving father must dwell.

Joy, beautiful spark of Gods!,
Daughter of Elysium,
Joy, beautiful spark of Gods!

Over many protests, Beethoven decided to conduct the orchestra for the symphony's first audience. Since he could hear nothing, colleagues placed an alternate conductor behind him and ordered the musicians to follow the alternate's timing. Unaware of the conductor behind him, unaware that the musicians paid him no heed, unaware that he was even before an audience of hundreds, Ludwig van Beethoven conducted his final symphony. At the moment of its final note, Beethoven's arms fell to his sides, and he stood there motionless. He could not hear the music stop, but he knew it. What he did not sense, what he had to be taken gently by the shoulders and turned to see was the audience. The audience of dignitaries, wealthy men and women, sophisticated types, were on their feet cheering and applauding in a grand ovation.

He died three years later, still composing, still defying fate. In his final moments, from his deathbed, Beethoven lifted his head and opened wide his eyes. He raised his fist with "a serious, threatening expression on his face," then relaxed and died.

With his final match with Fate over, friends recovered several documents including his will, sealed with instructions that it be opened only after his death. Beethoven wrote it twenty-four years before his passing, but it sums the last half of his life, and echoes the sentiment of and breaths logic into his later works. These words, though only a fragment of the original, express in language what Beethoven expressed in music:

"O you men who accuse me of being malevolent, stubborn, and misanthropical, how you wrong me! You do not know the secret cause. Ever since my childhood, my heart and mind were disposed toward feelings of gentleness and goodwill, and I was eager to accomplish great deeds; but consider this: for six years I have been hopelessly ill, aggravated and cheated by quacks in the hope of improvement but finally compelled to face a lasting malady. . . . I was forced to isolate myself. I was misunderstood and rudely repulsed because I was as yet unable to say to people, "Speak louder, shout, for I am deaf." . . . With joy, I hasten to meet death. Despite my hard fate . . . I shall wish that it had come later; but I am content, for he shall free me of constant suffering. Come then, Death, and I shall face thee with courage."

Thanks to Bill at lucare.com for many of the factual particulars in this post, including several of the quoted passages. Thanks to you, also, if you read this far.

Save Money on Gas

Hey, a friend sent me this, and I checked it out with my brother, who's a lawyer. He says it's legit!

Are you tired about the rising price of gasoline? If so, here's the real solution. It's not like those brainless scams: don't buy gas on a given day or don't buy Exxon-Mobile's gas at all. If you would like to bring down the price of gasoline, send $50 to my PO box.

It'll work, trust me. Forward this post to ten other people and a big surprise will pop up on your screen.

And also, you're an idiot if you forward this kind of crap to other people.

Random Observation

For a man, nothing can be so simultaneously hilarious and horrifying than to see another man get nailed in the nuts.

What is it about blunt force trauma to the testicles?

Think about it. If you saw video footage of a two guys passing each other on the sidewalk, and one sucker-punched the other in the face, you'd say something like, "Holy crap!." You might chuckle, but you wouldn't really laugh.

However, if you saw similar footage, but of a kick or a punch to the groin, you would guffaw. At the same time, you would cross your own legs and cringe.

What a piece of work is man.

Lawn-Mowin' Blues

At the end of last autumn, on the last day of lawn mowing season, my lawn mower died. It was killed, actually, by a baseball bat lying unseen in the grass. The blade caught it and whipped it in a powerful circle. I was lucky enough to escape unscathed, but the spinning bat bent the lawnmower's blade and tore off it's power-assist front wheel.

Oh well, I'd been having problems with it, so now I really had an excuse to buy a new one.

As spring slowly set in after a three-week long tugging fest with the remnants of winter, I watched as some of my more lawn-conscious neighbors changed the oil in and gassed up their trusty mowers. I watched them mow and thought to myself, "Gee, I'd be out there too if my lawnmower worked."

It was actually kind of nice.

Alas, "So dawn goes down to day, nothing gold can stay." Yes, yesterday's weather was splendid--sublime, even--so I checked the paper for some sales and eventually made my way to Lowe's. Mark, of course, wanted me to get a riding mower. "Get a tractor one, daddy!" But I was looking to spend less than $200.

I had something else in mind as well, and it confirmed a long standing suspicion that I had held like a grudge ever since I was about eight years old. That's when I started mowing the lawn for my parents.

At first it was a blast. I still remember being asked if I wanted to cut the grass. It never looked like work. It looked like fun. I loved the noise and the sense of power. I enthusiastically agreed to do so, and I tried my hardest to do a good job and show my folks that I was indeed becoming a man.

After a few times, however, I began to suspect that I had been duped. Every parent has heard this one, "You guys just had me so that you could make me work around the house." And when confronted with household chores, that's exactly how most kids feel. Eventually, I grew and dismissed such feelings as adolescent nonsense. Up until I stood there at Lowe's looking at lawnmowers.

I planned on saving fifty bucks by getting a simple push-mower with no power-assistance. However, that's when it dawned on me. Natalie will soon by seven. In a year, she can be mowing the lawn. Wouldn't it be nice of me to put up the extra money to get one that will lessen her labor? So I started looking at the $250 model.

And then, a glimpse of the Promised Land: and unlike Moses, I was about to get there.

For a mere $300, I could get a self-propelled lawnmower with an electric start. That way, she wouldn't even need to yank back on the cord. She could just turn the key.

And that's when I realized that I had been somewhat right all those times I had quietly cursed my parents for enslaving me in the fields (i.e. the yard on our suburban cul-de-sac). It occurred to me that I had been wrong by a shade. I should not have said, "You guys just had me so that you could make me work around the house." I should have said, "One of the reasons that you guys had me was so that you could make me work around the house."

Of course, I defended myself with the standard parent retorts: "When I was a kid, I had chores;" and "It'll help build character;" and "It's about time that the kids did something to earn their keep." Besides, Natalie's not old enough just yet, so it'll still be me for awhile.

So I bought the $300 model.

I brought it home and showed it off to my wife and kids. It sure looked nice, sitting there in the driveway as I scanned the manual and filled it with oil and gas.

I thought to myself, "Man, I have a nice lawnmower." Then I thought to myself, "Damn, I have a lawnmower."

So I started to cut the grass. I was about a third of the way done with the front lawn when Natalie came out and asked if I could show her how to do it. I explained how to start it, how to engage the powered wheels, and how to cut straight along the lines with a slight overlap on the freshly cut side. She loved it, so I stopped her and took over again before she realized that it is work. That moment will come soon enough, and for it I cannot wait.

Debates

So the leading Democrats have debated each other. Perhaps soon the leading Republicans will do likewise. Then, the leading Democrat and leading Republican will face off mono y mono.

Alas, neither has the guts to argue against a Libertarian because a Libertarian will not stick to a rehearsed script that allows both sides to argue with dignity. A Libertarian will strike at the truth, and in doing so pulverize either Democrat or Republican.

One day, our time will come. Joshua will blow his horn, and the walls of the false two-party system will come crashing down and the righteous will loot Jericho for all that it is not worth.

24--God Bless/Damn It

If I took a dump, and a missing section of the Dead Sea Scrolls plopped out, I would still be less surprised then what happens on 24.

Perhaps my observation is crass, but it is what it is.

Herb Ohta Jr Daniel Ho Yamano Ginza 2006 Europa

More evidence that those who see the ukulele as a mere toy instrument are quite wrong.

True Freedom of Speech

A professor at Emmanuel College in Boston has been fired for simulating the VA Tech shooting. He claims that the University is stifling free speech.

I do not know enough about the professor's demonstration to say whether or not the professor's dismissal was proper. However, I do know enough about the first amendment to say that Emmanuel College did not violate the professor's right to freedom of speech.

Read the damn amendment. It's first words are "Congress shall pass no law respecting . . . freedom of speech." It doesn't say that you can say whatever you want and your employers, neighbors, and peers have to like it. The first amendment was not intended to protect people from ostracism. It was not intended to protect jobs. The first amendment was intended to prevent the government from using its coercive powers against citizens who speak there minds.

An example of this might be the fact that I think that George W. Bush's government is more fascist than Republican (and by Republican, I mean classical Republican, as described first by Aristotle but carried into existence by the American Revolution (see Gordon Wood's The Radicalism of the American Revolution for some insight. However, be careful. Wood, for all his obvious intelligence and scholarship, simply neglects the conservative elements of the War for Independence--and these were pretty major, as they were the agendas of Washington, Hancock, and later Hamilton).

Should I be arrested and charged with a crime for calling George W. Bush a fascist, then my right to free speech has been violated.

However, if I work in an office, and my boss--the owner, who has invested his entire fortune in the business enterprise at which I am employed--takes offense (presumably because he is a Bush man), and he fires me for my comments: my rights have not been violated.

I do not have a right to my job. My job belongs to the owner (or owners) of the company. If I upset them, it is there right to release me. Hell, they can fire me because I prefer to wear socks with sandals on weekends. The job belongs to the company, not me.

I am a free man, and I should be free to say what I want, but that doesn't mean that there are no social or economic consequences to what I say. If I own a convenience store, but I also am an active anti-Semite, then I cannot complain at the loss of business once my anti-Semitism has been revealed. Certainly Jews would not patronize my business. Others might avoid my goods simply because they are disgusted by my opinions. All of this can happen, and my freedom of speech has not been violated. I am still a free man, free to say what I want.

Similarly, if I own a company, I should be able to refuse or terminate the employment of anyone who spouts what I consider to be filth. It's my company. If you want to say whatever you want, then be prepared to live alone. If my wife asks, "Does this make me look fat?" and I say, "Well, yeah, kinda." I cannot appeal to my freedom of speech. I'm in the doghouse, but I'm not in jail. That's the point. The government should not be able to punish people for their beliefs. As for the general population, you are free to embrace or condemn whomever or whatever you want. But be careful, and pay attention to what your boss thinks.

Don't Take Your Guns to Town

It's inevitable after the VA Tech shootings that the anti-gun lobby would again publicly rear its ugly head. The Bloomberg.com quotes California democrat and representative Henry Waxman, "I hope the tragedy at Virginia Tech will awaken all of us to look again at easy access to handguns and other weapons that allows people to have them and use them in tragic ways." And the LA Times quotes New York democrat and representative Carolyn McCarthy as having said, "The unfortunate situation in Virginia could have been avoided if congressional leaders stood up to the gun lobby."

As if those who advocate the right to keep and bear arms are somehow responsible for the massacre.

Is it possible that the gun-control lobby might have made this tragedy worse than it could have been? Consider that in 2006, the anti-gun lobby celebrated the defeat of Virginia House Bill 1572, which would have permitted students legally and peacefully to carry legal and licensed firearms for their own defense. University officials actually praised the bill's defeat, suggesting that it would make the campus a lot safer.

However, it is not unreasonable to observe that had students been able and willing to carry weapons, that they could and would have defended themselves against this madman. Instead, the campus was not safer. It was a wide open target for anyone who paid no regard to the rules. Guns were not legally allowed on campus, so only one bent on committing murder had a gun on campus. Thus, the anti-gun lobby made this tragedy possible.

OneNewsNow.com, of the American Family News Network reports two occasions in the past decade during which civilians legally armed with their own firearms stopped a killing spree.

Nothing can prevent bad people from gaining access to weapons. This is universally true and documented.

The proper way to observe this isn't that because a man got a gun, he killed many people. The truth is that many people were killed by a man because they did not have guns.

Leave it to the police, some say. However, the police can't get to these things in time. Victims can't demand a "Time out!" until law enforcement officials arrive. There is a time span of at least several minutes during which victims are utterly defenseless--because of the anti-gun lobby. They are not protected by anti-gun legislation. They are endangered and too often condemned by it.

In a somewhat related side-note, MSNBC reports today that the 1944 Miss America winner recently defended herself and her property with her own .38. Who would ask this 82 year-old who needs a walker to get around to run, hide, and wait for the police?

Ukulele weeps by Jake Shimabukuro

If I asked you to define beautiful, would this help?

By the way, Howlin' Mad Murdock, I'm talking about the music, not the guy.

The Imus Rant That You Knew Must Come

On my earlier post of about 45 minutes ago, I implied sympathy for Don Imus and antipathy for those leading the witch hunt against him.

I do not deny this.

Imus is a "Shock Jock." That's his job. That's what CBS paid him for, and that's what sponsors sponsored. He's supposed to say things that are "out of line." Imus was not paid to say things that made us smile, nod, and praise. He was paid to shock people with outrageous comments.

Imus is accused of making sexist and racially disparaging remarks. However, don't such remarks fit his job description?

Even without defending what he said, it must be admitted that he said what he was paid to say, and he has the undeniable right to say what he said.

While I respect CBS's right to fire Imus (what else could they do, from a publicity stance?), I also say that doing so was rotten.

Hell, I don't even listen to Imus.

The 24 Blues

I know that I am probably incapable of keeping this promise, but for the moment I vow no longer to attempt predictions as to what will happen on 24.

Ach Mensch!

Blah blah blah

I don't know why, but I haven't been much inspired to write anything lately. Alas, for there have been several topics upon which I could rant up a storm (if you know what Imus mean).

With that said, you might recall my having accused the average person of freaking out over minor things and getting offended at the drop of a hat because such people know how pathetic they are and, since they lack the will-power to be heroes, choose to victims.

With that said, I offer as cases in point Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton.

The Sound of Silence

I just read that a magazine called Blenders once ranked Simon & Garfunkel's "The Sound of Silence" as the 42nd worst song ever.

The magazine complained that the song seemed too preachy and self-important, and offered the experience of being lectured by a freshman. "If Frasier Crane were a song, he would sound like this," it commented.

Specifically, the article complained about the lyrics, "Here my words that I might teach you," and editor Craig Marks explained, "Simon and Garfunkel thunder away in voices that suggest they're scowling and wagging their fingers as they sing. The overall experience is like being lectured on the meaning of life by a jumped-up freshman."

I disagree.

Of course the song is preachy, even pretentious. It is meant a rebuke of pop culture, of the kind of civilization that buys prints of Campbell's soup cans and reads magazine's like Blender. Any poet, any person with an eye for beauty and truth, any philosopher who speaks truly can be perceived as wagging a finger. Socrates wagged his finger, as did Moses, Jesus, Luther, Jefferson, Thoreau, Rothbard, King (Martin Luther, Jr.--not Rodney), etc. That's what truth does. It looks at the ignorant and it says, "No, no, no."

That Blender would object is not surprising. Fools dislike it when they are revealed. Craig Marks's comments are reminiscent of those who ridiculed the free man in Socrates's "Allegory of the Cave."

"The Sound of Silence" is a lyrical masterpiece. If it comes across to you as preachy, it's because you know that you're at fault. One with an appreciation what what really constitutes truth cannot help but sympathize with the song's narrator. Wisdom, for all its merits, is a state of loneliness, and Paul Simon captured this perfectly in his lyrics.

Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seed while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.

In restless dreams I walk alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never shared
No one dared
Disturb the sound of silence.

"Fools," said I, "you do no know
"Silence like a cancer grows
"Hear my words that I might teach you
"Take my arms that I might reach you"
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed in the world of silence

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
and tenement halls"
And whispered in the sounds of silence...

Movie Recommendation

Rent Flags of Our Fathers on DVD. Thus far, it is my favorite movie produced in the last year.

Ave Appalachia!

Today I played a banjo for the first time.

OK, cut it out. I know exactly what you just thought. The picture was of a slack-jawed, sallow-faced, overall-wearin' hillbilly; and the soundtrack was from Deliverance. Ha ha. Very funny.

I'm serious when I say that the banjo is really a neat instrument. Obviously I wasn't very good. I could pick out some tunes and get the basic melody right. However, when it comes to all the quick finger picking background that makes for good bluegrass stomping, I was pretty bad. Still, I think that I could pick it up fairly well if I had one of my own to practice regularly.

For a while, I'd been thinking that I'd next like to get and learn a mandolin. Now I think I'll have to go with the banjo.

Easter Bunny

It's Easter morning. Why does it have to be so in the morning? Seriously, my kids get up so early to hunt for eggs that I feel like I myself have been dead for three days.

While the kids were hunting for eggs, Natalie surprised me with an argument that could almost have come from Aristotle's Prior Analytics.

At one point during the hunt, I quipped, "Wow, I'm surprised that the Easter Bunny was able to get past Nala, the best rabbit dog in the county!"
"That's because there's no Easter Bunny," she said.
"What do you mean? Who hid these eggs?" I replied.
"You did," she answered. "Besides, an Easter Bunny would have to be magic, and there's no such thing as magic."

I knew that this day would come, but I didn't think it would come so early (she's still just six). At least it's the Easter Bunny and not Santa Claus. I've always thought that the Easter Bunny was the lamest of the holiday figures. Yes, lamer even than the Tooth Fairy.

No Recent Posts

No posts recently, for I have been and still am extremely sick.

I'd say sick as a dog, but, if a dog was this sick, I'd probably shoot it.

A Confession (and a Blush)

I was (am still) feeling a bit sick, so I rested on the couch while my kids played whatever imaginary game they'd created (I could hear them in another room, and it had something with a "fierce lion"--Mark--pursuing an "enchanted princess"--Natalie.

They were having a blast, and I lamented lacking the energy to participate.

What I did next I must confess with a grin. I turned on the television and found a show that revived my spirits. So, a few hours ago, alone, I, a thirty year old man, watched Spongebob Squarepants. It was awesome. I love that show!

I Rant More (so excuse me)

When I lived in the Seattle area, I thought that it was an especially unique region; not just possessing traits unheard of in other metropolitan areas, but a truly "special" place in and of itself. However, since living in Metro-Detroit, I have learned that every place likes to think of itself as special. It's how the masses try to make themselves important. In short, it's regional propaganda.

In truth, there's nothing special about the Seattle and Detroit areas. Sure, the greater Seattle area has Weyerhaeuser, Microsoft, Nintendo, trade with Asia, and some remnants of Boeing. Of course the greater Detroit area has the somewhat-Big Three. In the end, however, both regions are just people trying to make a decent living.

Let me tell you about Detroit's problems. Detroit is the victim of labor-union mentality: the idea that a non or semi-skilled laborer is extremely valuable to an industry.

Of course laborers are necessary for any industry. However, to place non or semi-skilled (i.e. factory workers) on some kind of pedestal is downright ridiculous.

If your contribution to an industry is something that can accurately be mimicked by any low-brow sort in India or China, then you are not valuable. You are only valuable to a company if your labor is irreplaceable. If a company can incur fewer expenses by moving operations oversees, then that's what that company should do.

Too few people in the greater Detroit area understand this. The operate under the assumption that if they put in their nine hours they somehow deserve outstanding healthcare and wages. The fact that others in other countries will do the exact same work for less proves the ridiculousness of such an assertion.

Why blame GM for moving plants to Mexico if the same work can be done at a cheaper cost? Contrary to what Michael Moore might think, such is absolutely the right move.

Moreover, it positions the United States as a country of wealth able to provide the services (too often neglected in the GDP figures) that make industries work. If you want to know what industries without the creative geniuses behind them look like, then read Ayn Rand's fictional (but all too true) novel Atlas Shrugged.

The bottom line is that Seattle is losing Boeing because they've made Boeing's business cost-prohibitive. Detroit is losing the Big Three because labor unions have done the same. You can only suck on a teet so long until you have to grow up.

I Am on a Ranting Roll

I think that George W. Bush is a bad president. His tyrannical modus operandi is akin to the likes of Franklin Roosevelt (who cursed the US with socialism--AKA his "New Deal") and Abraham Lincoln (the empire-builder who would have rather seen the deaths of 3/4 of a million people than cede the implementation of high tariffs, a centralized national bank, and a powerful national government). It pains me greatly to admit that Bill Clinton's record as President (BJ's in the Oval Office and lying to grand juries and all) was better.

However, if anyone of my readers thinks for a moment that Al Gore would have been a better alternative in 2000, then I must disagree. I believe that George W. Bush really thinks that he is doing the right thing (through the advisers who have hoodwinked him into their quasi-fascist agenda). George W. Bush is not the idiot that SNL portrays, but he isn't up to the task. He follows blindly the advice of too many whom he inexplicably respects.

Al Gore, on the other hand, knows full well that he is nothing more than a demagogue, one willing to sacrifice the common good for his personal good. How else can you explain how he consumes in one month--at only one of his estates--the energy that the average American consumes in a year? He's a liar and a thief (seriously, look at his agenda and you'll see). He drives in green-cars provided not by his means but by sponsors, and occasionally uses "green" energy via equipment paid by a UK company (check it out). He has never once bared the cost-burden of his so-called beliefs. He's a wolf in sheep's clothing, and everyone knows that such an animal is meant to beware.

Hillary Clinton is no better. That she is no worse only tells you how bad the both of them are. She is a Marxist of the Orwellian breed, wanting of no more than her limitless ego will demand.

The Republicans offer Rudi Giuliani and John McCain. One is but a mayor whose greatest distinction is presiding over the locale of the worst attack on American soil since Pearl Harbor (12-07-1941). The other is a flip-flopping, "What's the wind's direction?" moderate who, when the argument turns against him, reminds everyone that he was a POW in 'Nam.

Essentially, the two major parties in American politics are defunct. They are run by machines that care little for the "common good" of which the Constitution speaks. It's time to give the fascists and the socialists the boot. It's time to vote for freedom, that any man or woman can do as he or she pleases provided that it does not deprive others of life, liberty, or their pursuit of happiness.

A Blessing Wrapped in a Curse

Natalie is a hero.

Of course every parent brags about his or her children. However, I am quite firm in my assertion that Natalie stands up to scrutiny as the most perfect child, second only, perhaps, to Jesus, who apparently didn't even cry.

On Saturday, we threw a party for my sister-in-law's 30th birthday, even though she doesn't look a day over 29 and a half. Natalie, aged six, spent most of the day fretting over which dress to wear. She wanted to look best for Autie Kimmy's big day.

On top of this, she reads independently. I taught her to read at a very young age. We read novels together. Thus far we've read countless children's stories (Dr. Seuss, etc.), but it's the fact that she and I have already read novels that makes me proud. To date, we've read Old Yeller; The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe; Holes; Because of Winn Dixie; Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone; Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets; Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban; and Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Last month, she saw with her grandmother Bridge to Tarabithia (while I took Mark to see Ghost Rider).

Natalie loved the movie, and my wife told her that the book was really good. She's only six, and I'm not kidding you that she said, "If you buy the book, then I'll read it." Holy crap if she hasn't read through chapter five already--all on her own. She circles words that she doesn't know and cannot learn from context, and she brings them to me for definitions.

She's also starting on multiplication. She understands the scientific method, and she enjoys writing stories and drawing. I'm not kidding. She's everything that a parent dreams.

On Sunday, I was wrestling with Mark. He's really tough, and he likes to get down and dirty. When we were done, he said that he wanted to watch a movie in Natalie's room (there's an extra TV in there on weekends). He left, and about five minutes later Natalie came out to get him and her a glass of water. She returned to her room, but ran back quickly saying, "Mark doesn't look good. His face is pale, and he looks bad."

I rose and walked to Natalie's room. Sure as she'd said, Mark was in bad shape. He looked half asleep. When I touched him, I could feel sweat, but he wasn't hot. I talked to him, but he was unresponsive.

I quickly picked him up and brought him into the family room. There I told my wife that something was wrong with Mark. I gave him to her, and I could see that she too was concerned. Gone was the brilliant fire in his eyes. Erased was his personality. He was essentially dead, sweaty weight.

"We have to take him to the hospital," I said.

"Do we take him to the hospital, or do we take him to the clinic?" she replied.

"No," I said, "we need real doctors."

About then, Mark closed his eyes, and Jennie tried furiously to rouse him. He barely stirred.

"F-it," I said. I'm calling 911. She did not argue, and that's what I did.

My thinking was this. The hospital is at least ten minutes away. The paramedics are about two minutes away.

I grabbed the phone and made the call. The fire truck arrived in about two minutes, followed by an ambulance about a minute later.

Natalie was terrified. Jennie was surprisingly calm, trying to keep Mark awake as he slipped in and out of consciousness.

I wanted to scream. I prayed silently to God, begging Him not to put me in this position, that I wasn't strong enough to suffer so. At the same time, I made the inevitable bargain that if Mark recovered, that I'd be a better person.

The paramedics and firemen came in together and took no time to assess that something was wrong. Mark was, to say the least, lethargic. He hadn't even the energy to cry in fear as they prodded his abdomen and inserted an IV.

They told us that he needed to go to the hospital, so I told my wife to go with Mark while I would drive with Natalie to the hospital.

On the way to the hospital, I nearly lost control. I was on the verge of sobbing. Natalie's presence was the only thing that kept me strong. I told her that she was a hero, that if she hadn't alerted us to Mark's condition, that we wouldn't have called for help.

In one of those moments of sheer hope and gratitude, I offered her anything that she wanted as a reward.

At the hospital, I found my wife and Mark in the trauma room. He was hooked up to machines to monitor his heart, and an IV. I gulped.

The doctor came and told us that he'd ordered a CT to check for head trauma. I said that I'd go with him, as my wife--29 weeks pregnant--could not. Mark was terrified. He'd recovered some of his color, but he was clearly in a state of near terror. I kept talking to him about the things that he loves, and that kept the two of us sane.

The CT went through without a hitch, and we went to a treatment room to await the doctor once again.

The CT came back normal, and no adequate explanation for his condition came. I'd wondered about diabetic shock, but his glucose levels were perfect. Everything was, in fact, perfect. As time went by, Mark himself came back to normal. He complained about the IV and said that the doctors who put it in were "in very big trouble."

We left the hospital that night without a real answer. There was no head or abdominal trauma, nor was there a blood-sugar problem. The best that the ER doc could say was, "Watch him tonight, and make an appointment with his pediatrician."

As we left the ER to pick up Natalie at my brother-in-law's house (he lives about two minutes from the hospital), I asked Natalie what she wanted as her reward for being such a good big sister. She said, "Either ice cream or that bowling game for you Xbox."

I was amazed. I expected her to ask for a Nintendo DS, for she'd gotten one for Christmas, but it had been stolen (we suspect) by my crystal-meth addicted sister and her crystal-meth dealing boyfriend. However, instead of asking for the $130 reward, she'd asked for either a $2 or a $15 dollar one. All she cared about, I observed, was that Mark was going to be all right.

Needless to say, we bought her ice cream on the way home, and today I bought her a Nintendo DS. Sure, I could have spent that money on things for me, but I took more joy from giving her the DS and looking at her face whilst I did so than if I'd bought myself a 50" HDTV. I told her that she's a real hero, and she looked at me with big, wonderful eyes that made me second guess my beliefs about human nature.

Today, my wife found a bump on Mark's head. This is consistent with what the ER doc opined. The pediatrician looked at it. Given that the CT showed no real trauma, she hypothesized that Mark had incurred a great deal of pain, and that the sweat and fainting were typical symptoms of pain-related stress. So Mark is just fine right now.

In the end, Natalie didn't save his life, but I don't regret spending $130 to reward her for her insightful observation. At age six, most kids don't even know the meanings of the words "Pale" and "Ashen," but those were the words that she used. I would take credit for them, seeing as how I've read so much to and with her, but I really cannot. She's beyond me, even in her meager six years.

If God reads this blog (and he ought to, since at least Golf Guy does), then he should know this: I get it. Those hours I spend on the Xbox, those mornings and afternoons that I spend hunting, those days that I spend at work so that we can have the things that we want don't really mean shit. That's right. I said shit. What matters is love. I love my son. I love my daughter. I love my wife, and I love everything else that has undeservedly been given to me. Thank you, Lord, for not making me Job. Thank you for placing things in perspective. Now, if you could only deal with Tom Cruise and the so-called Church of Scientology...

To Mike

I just got in touch with a very old friend from high school. I've been wondering about him for years, and to find him has been such a joy. The power of nostalgia explains so much. Consider the revival of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, The Transformers, and Star Wars. Multiply that by ten to the tenth power, and you can quantify how happy I am to have heard from Mike.

Mike helped get me my first job under Russ and Don, and he never hesitated to tell me that I was being an asshole when I was being one. There's really nothing like an old friend to erase the hard times of the past and, in doing so, wipe a clean slate for the future. Mike's getting married, and I hope for him the best that marriage can bring.

Look at me being all sappy, and I'm not even mildly (or extremely) intoxicated. I'm just downright happy.

It reminds me of a lesson that I once taught to some young people. I'd asked them, "What song defines you personality and hopes." Many answered with nonsense, like the White Stripes's "We Are Gonna Be Friends" (a fine song, but not a good one for my question):

Fall is here, hear the yell
back to school, ring the bell
Brand new shoes, walking blues
climb the fence, book and pens
I can tell that we are gonna be friends

Walk with me, suzy lee
through the park, by the tree
We will rest upon the ground
and look at all the bugs we've found
then safely walk to school
without a sound

Well here we are, no one else
we walked to school all by ourselves
there's dirt on our uniforms
from chasing all the ants and worms
we clean up and now it's time to learn

Numbers, letters, learn to spell
nouns, and books, and show and tell
at playtime we will throw the ball
back to class, through the hall
teacher marks our height against the wall

And we don't notice any time pass
we don't notice anything
we sit side by side in every class
teacher thinks that i sound funny
but she likes the way you sing

Tonight I'll dream while i'm in bed
when sill thoughts go through my head
about the bugs and alphabet
and when I wake tomorrow I'll bet
that you and I will walk together again
cause I can tell that we
are going to be friends


Others were a bit more on target with things like John Lennon's "Imagine."

Imagine there's no Heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace

You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world

You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one

So I told them that when they were older, a song by Simon and Garfunkel would be more apropos. The song, "Old Friends/Bookends" goes as follows. Those of you more than thirty years of age will know what I'm talking about.

Old friends,
Old friends
Sat on their park bench
Like bookends.
A newspaper blown though the grass
Falls on the round toes
Of the high shoes
Of the old friends.

Old friends,
Winter companions,
The old men
Lost in their overcoats,
Waiting for the sunset.
The sounds of the city,
Sifting through trees,
Settle like dust
On the shoulders
Of the old friends.

Can you imagine us
Years from today,
Sharing a park bench quietly?
How terribly strange
To be seventy.
Old friends,
Memory brushes the same years
Silently sharing the same fears

Time it was,
And what a time it was
It was
A time of innocence.
A time of confidences.
Long ago, it must be.
I have a photograph.
Preserve your memories;
They're all that's left you.

Thanks, Mike, for getting back in touch. If we can share a park bench when we are seventy, I will be more than delighted.

With youth comes vigor. With age comes wisdom. With politicians, registered Republicans, and registered Democrats comes neither. Remember that in November. There, I've said it. Vote Libertarian or vote not at all. Don't worry. Your freedom and the achievements of the ages are all that are at stake.

Global Warming is Junk Science

Pseudo-scientists and eco-nazis push the global warming argument because it is their best chance at getting attention and getting power. Sure, they are concerned about the environment. However, their particular kind of concern is not influenced by the truth. Whenever the truth stands in their way, they either ignore it or fabricate a story that the average Joe Blow idiot will buy because he paid attention to Jack Squat in even the most basic science classes.

The media plays right into these people's hands. First of all, the media is dominated by leftists who advocate state control of the means of production, distribution, and consumption of goods and services. Second, it's a damn good story. The unspoken motto of the mass media is "If it bleeds, it leads." People tune in for shock and awe. What is more shocking and awe inspiring than armageddon? Therefore, the media shows only the side of the story that shocks and awes.

Not all scientists agree that human beings have caused global warming. Those who do receive fat pay checks from governments who wish for further research to help avoid the apocalypse. The fact that politicians like Al Gore are really the loudest of the bunch should be a clue that it is not a legitimate scientific matter.

What all scientists do agree on, however, is that over ten thousand years ago, the Earth's climate began to warm (which is why we are no longer in the Ice Age). This warming took place with no help from factories, coal plants, or SUV's. The long term trend is actually one of warming, not of stability.

Let's consider how pathetic really is the "Global Warming/Sky is Falling" argument. It really centers on circumstantial evidence: that temperatures in the past century were, on average, a little warmer than in the century before. Seriously, we're not talking about climate change really, we're talking about a change in a few degrees. Note also that the past century was not even the warmest of the last thousand years. This doesn't get mentioned because the truth doesn't matter to these people. At the very best, we have a weak correlation between rising CO2's and climate. It's very weak because, quite obviously, when the Ice Age ended, the Earth was warming just fine on its own with negligible human activity.

The real cornerstone of their argument is not science. It is fear. If you don't stop CO2 emissions, then the world will die! This form of persuasion fits into the same category as the following.

1.) If we abolish slavery, then black men will run rampant and rape white women (this was a very serious worry in the North and the South. It is also the reason why cocaine and other such drugs were abolished: fear that African American men would get high and rape white women).

2.) The Jews are parasites who are sucking the culture out of Germany especially and Western Civilization in general. They are behind Capitalism, for it allows them--as the capitalists--to seize power. They are behind Marxism, for it allows them--as the party elite--to seize power. Etc. If we don't take care of the Jews, then they'll take care of us!

3.) If we don't fight in Vietnam, then the communists will take over all of Asia and then the rest of the world, including us!

4.) If we don't invade Iraq, then Saddam will either deploy his massive arsenal of WMD's against Israel, Europe, and the United States, or he'll provide those WMD's to Al Quaida for the same purpose!

5.) If we don't stop all of these Irish immigrants from coming to the United States, they'll acquire citizenship, elect the Pope to the presidency, and establish a Roman Catholic state in place of our protestant (but secular) Republic!

That's right. I'm saying it. The global warming folks are of the same kin as the worst kind of tyrants that this world has ever seen. The most dangerous thing facing this society today is not global warming. It's the men and women who push the global warming agenda. They are my sworn enemies, and I spit upon them for taking me as a fool who will be led like a lamb to the slaughter.

The Prodigal Child

We all love the story of the prodigal son. That a loved one can fall far but recover and return is the hope of everyone with a black sheep in the family.

Of course the father, recognizing the sincere repentance of his son, accepts him back into the fold and celebrates the return. However, I think that many people hold out too long for and offer too much to prodigal sons.

"What would Jesus do?" is a fine question to ask when faced with any situation. However, let's not misconstrue Jesus when answering the question ourselves.

In the parable, the father does not keep giving to the prodigal son, hoping against hope that the son will get his life together. The son has to hit rock bottom and suffer for a long time before he comes to his senses, repents, and begs forgiveness.

Recall that in the parable, the son says, "I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired men." He has to repent truly for his transgressions and demonstrate a clear willingness to forsake the sins of the past and live as the insignificant man whom he has made himself.

Jesus forgives in the face of repentance. He forgave the thief who knew that he was a sinner and defended the innocent Jesus. Jesus told that thief that he (the thief) would soon be with him (Jesus) in Paradise. He said nothing of the other thief who did not repent.

Another 24 Theory.

I've been expecting Jack Bauer to die unexpectedly ever since the Golf Guy mentioned it to me at work about three (or was it four?) years ago. He said that it would be completely unexpected--not even saved for the season finale.

Well, since then, I've pretty much had a theory that Jack will die each season since (and been dead wrong each time). For a long time I thought that they were grooming Curtis to take his place, but it doesn't look like that will be happening. Also, Curtis was a different kind of agent than is Jack, so I should have known better.

However, I'm ready to take gamble and state my current prediction. Watchers of 24 might remember last week that medics wanted to watch Jack for signs of possible internal bleeding. He declined and is back in the thick of things. Perhaps he's going to die soon from those injuries that he received at the hands of the Russians. It's a great angle to take, for it should catch most people completely by surprise. A friend and co-worker of mine took exception to this theory, noting that Sutherland has another year on his contract, but that got me thinking: how much more of a surprise would it then be? It's perfect. It's perfect in being anti-climactic (and thus, in its own surprising way climactic), and it will be absolutely unexpected.

Only two things make me think that I am wrong. First, I doubt that they would pay Southerland for a season just to keep his death a secret. Second, I don't think that the writers, when they do decide to kill Jack, will do so in such a normal, unheroic way. Still, there's part of me that makes me believe that such a death would be so perfect. He's gotten out of so much unbelievable crap in so many unbelievable ways, to have him die so undramatically would be ironically poetic.

Surely Golf Guy, and maybe even the long absent Science Guy have something to comment on this.

A 24 Theory.

In real time!

Watch Morris. It doesn't add up, but it's the kind of twist that the writers will pull.

Best Pictures Part I

Thus far, the wife and I have seen two of the Academy Award's Best Picture nominees.

If you haven't yet seen it, don't bother to rent Babel. In spite of good acting, the plot is poorly constructed, at times forced, and overall boring. It reminded me a lot of the previous year's winner, Crash, which came across as artificially construed. To the ladies, Brad Pitt is not hot in this movie. I can attest to this for, if my wife could leave me for any man, it would be Brad Pitt. Although it is of no importance, I must brag that I have family--though not bloodline-and friendly ties to a branch of Pitt's family. They are close enough in relation that their name is "Pitt," and they refer to the famous one as "Cousin Brad." Still, don't waste your time on this movie. If you like Brad Pitt, then see something else (other than his other mistake, Kalifornia).

The other nominated film that we saw was Martin Scorsese's The Departed. My recommendation is that you watch it. It's quite good. What makes this recommendation even more sincere is the fact that have long-been a Leonardo DiCaprio hater. I've always thought that his talent was overrated. He was not great in Titanic, and Titanic was NOT a great movie (in spite of its box office draw and its excessive awards. However, in more recent years I've seen him mature as an actor. I thought that he was rather good in Catch Me If You Can and as Howard Hughes in The Aviator.

Don't think that I am admitting a wrongful assessment of DiCaprio's acting. He was rather poor in all movies preceding Catch Me If You Can. He might have been great in Titanic, had not the director been poor and the script (written by that very same poor director) been sub-literate. I am not admitting that I was wrong. To the contrary, I am acknowledging that DiCaprio has risen to my standards. If only Keanu Reeves could do the same. He's the one, you'll remember, who nearly ruined the otherwise brilliant The Matrix. Thank God that the movie was saved because the charactor "Neo" (Reeves) was supposed to be an idiot. Consequently, the sequels sucked because once "Neo" wasn't an idiot, Keanu Reeves could not adequately portray him.

Stay tuned, as I plan to watch the other "Best Picture" nominees, as well as The King of Scotland, which at least one trusted friend has argued should have been nominated.

On and On: The More Things Change, the More They Stay the Same

Today I spoke to some youths, most of whom were about 13 years old, and we discussed how open modern society is to change.

To wit, I held up my iPod and noted that 17 years ago (when I was 13), we never imagined fitting over 1,000 songs on a such a tiny devise. We were still using tapes and had only just begun to discover compact discs.

I also held up my cell phone. The idea that you could contact or be contacted by anyone virtually anywhere was something that seemed closer to Star Trek than the near future.

Just prior to this very moment, I went upstairs to watch a TV show with my wife. She said, "Give me ten minutes," and I thought nothing of it. We now have DVR and can watch the show whenever we feel like it.

These are just a few of the changes in the past decade. I wonder what lies in store for the next. Good things, I suspect, provided that people are not hoodwinked by Al Gore.

I told them that most changes come with a bit of pain (think of all the telegraphers who were put out of business by the telephone), but overall changes point toward a trend of progress.

Of course, by progress I mean real progress. Not the same old BS from so-called "progressives" (i.e. "liberal democrats" in the USA). I'm talking about the progress that makes lives better and easier. The redistribution of wealth and extension of the state's powers are contrary to progress. Still, many will support the closet Marxists because they'd rather let someone else work for them. It's a very short-term gain (and only again if you can look beyond the greed and subsequent theft behind it), but that's about as far as the socialists can look.

More Alas.

Humans beings are born free and born to be free, and yet so few can imagine and celebrate freedom. Now that's an irony so tragic that not even SNL can poke fun at it.

Five Poems By Stephen Crane

Most people do not know that Stephen Crane was more than the author of the first psychologically real war novel, The Red Badge of Courage. He was also a poet, though of a different ilk.

Below are a few selections of Crane's poetry. Many will say that they are hardly poetry, for they are free verse of the freest kind. Perhaps they are not very poetic, but they are very deep, if not also very dark.

A man feared that he might find an assassin;
Another that he might find a victiom.
One was more wise than the other.
--Stephen Crane

I saw a man pursuing the horizon;
Round and round they sped.
I was disturbed at this;
I accosted the man.
"It is futile," I said,
"You can never--"
"You lie," he cried,
And ran on.
--Stephen Crane

Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind.
Because your lover threw wild hands toward the sky
And the affrighted steed ran on alone,
Do not weep.
War is kind.
Hoarse, booming drums of the regiment
Little souls who thirst for fight,
These men were born to drill and die.
The unexplained glory flies above them,
Great is the battle-god, great, and his kingdom--
A field where a thousand corpses lie.
Do not weep, babe, for war is kind.
Because your father tumbled in the yellow trenches,
Raged at his breast, gulped and died,
Do not weep.
War is kind.
Swift blazing flag of the regiment,
Eagle with crest of red and gold,
These men were born to drill and die.
Point for them the virtue of slaughter,
Make plain to them the excellence of killing
And a field where a thousand corpses lie.
Mother whose heart hung humble as a button
On the bright splendid shroud of your son,
Do not weep.
War is kind.
--Stephen Crane

"Have you ever made a just man?"
"Oh, I have made three," answered God,
"But two of them are dead,
And the third--
Listen! Listen!
And you will hear the thud of his defeat."
--Stephen Crane

And my personal favorite...

A man said to the universe:
"Sir, I exist!"
"However," replied the universe,
"The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation."
--Stephen Crane

I Dig Deeper

There was a time when God looked upon it and called it "Good."

That was the word. If you are a believer, then consider. How different must it have been? What word would God use today? What word would he use for you/me?

Alas.

Jesus a Comedian?

Jesus Christ cries, he rages, he loves, he shows the basis for every response except for one. In no account does Jesus of Nazareth laugh.

This is possible for a few reasons. Maybe Jesus had no sense of humor.

Still, it may simply be that those who wrote about Jesus thought that the message of his crucifixtion and our subsequent salvation from the pits of Hell was more important, so they did not include the time that Simon Peter farted and a bit of poo came out.

On the other hand, it could be an indication of something a bit more deeper.

Laughter occurs only in conjunction with imperfection. We laugh when something turns out as it should not have turned out or in a way contrary to how we expected it to turn out. With Jesus being God, he was perfect. Hence, he would see no humor in imperfection. This is why there's usually someone offended at any given joke. It means that someone is made an ass.

Personally, I think it had more to do with the scarcity of papyrus. Jesus was God, but he was also man. That means that if Peter had sharted, Jesus would have probably clutched his side, fallen to his knees, and dribbled a bit in his jockey shorts (I doubt that he wore boxers--he was a pacifist after all).

A Philosophical Pondering

If death is not an end but merely a new beginning, then there's always a chance that Sonny and Cher might reunite.

Does this make the glass half full or half empty?

SNL, Down's Syndrome, and Irony

I'm disappointed but not surprised that many people have been upset by a sketch on last week's Saturday Night Live. The whole din shows not how insensitive some people are, but how oversensitive are some.

The sketch is set in a bar. It involves four friends who have gathered for a drink and a memory (to echo Billy Joel's sentiment in "Piano Man"). One of them, the actor who portrays Dwight on The Office, goes to the jukebox and programs a few songs. He returns to his friends' table to reminisce.

Soon the song becomes audible. It is Loggins and Messina's romantic classic "Danny's Song."

It doesn't take long for one of the friends to notice the song and recollect a "fond" memory. He tells his comrades that the song will always remind him of the time when, as a young boy, he went to the petting zoo and was bitten on the you know what.

At this moment, I chuckled, just because it was unexpected. However, the follow up floored me. It was something like, "And they couldn't even find the guy who did it." To make my laughter even more acute, there was a subsequent comment about how they finally did locate his uncle.

Just as my breathing returned to normal, the next reminiscence began. Another friend noted that the song had a sentimental meaning for him too, in that it reminded him of the time when he was throwing a football in the backyard with his dad. "It was the first time," he said, "that I realized that I had a dad and not just a dad with Down's Syndrome."

Holy crap, I almost wet myself at that one. Not because Down's Syndrome is funny but because it was totally unexpected. However, many have complained in the past week that the joke was in poor taste.

First of all, the joke did not suggest that Down's Syndrome is a funny matter. Instead, it utilized irony. Such a song as Messina's (see the lyrics below) is designed to express and evoke fond, youthful, and idealistic hopes and memories. So when the song begins and someone says, "This song reminds me of..." we expect something warm and cuddly. That the SNL writers gave use the opposite is what made it so funny.

What I find interesting is that I've read reviews that criticize the use of Down's Syndrome as a subject matter, but none have taken to issue the themes of the other memories. Remember that the first memory involved an uncle biting his nephew's woo-hoo. The third memory involved a teacher recalling how he set fire to his classroom (and that finger paint is really flammable), and the last memory was of something of a homosexual fetish. These are apparently fine for jokes.

The sketch ended on a Tarantino-esque note, with the four men drawing guns apparently to rob the place (as in the opening and closing scene of Pulp Fiction). Again, it's irony that makes things funny. It's not robbery that's being joked about, it's that a bunch of friends gathering for a beer and reminiscing to Loggins and Messina aren't the kind of guys who rob a joint.

But whatever you do, remember, campers. Pedophilia, arson, and homosexuality are funny. Down's Syndrome is not. Let's get some thicker skin, people. How else can we enjoy the wickedly clever humor of South Park?

Below are the lyrics to the song that was played in the background. Look up irony in the dictionary, read the following lyrics, and consider the sketch in its appropriately funny way.

Danny's Song, by Loggins and Messina.

People smile and tell me I'm the lucky one
And we've just begun, think I'm gonna have a son
He will be like she and me, as free as a dove
Conceived in love, sun is gonna shine above

And even though we ain't got money
I'm so in love with ya, honey
And everything will bring a chain of love
And in the mornin' when I rise
You bring a tear of joy to my eyes
And tell me, everything is gonna be alright

Seems as though a month ago I was Beta-Chi
Never got high, oh, I was a sorry guy
And now I smile and face the girl that shares my name
Now I'm through with the game, this boy will never be the same

And even though we ain't got money
I'm so in love with ya, honey
And everything will bring a chain of love
And in the mornin' when I rise
You bring a tear of joy to my eyes
And tell me, everything is gonna be alright

Pisces, Virgo rising is a very good sign
Strong and kind, and the little boy is mine
Now I see a family where there once was none
Now we've just begun, yeah we're gonna fly to the sun

And even though we ain't got money
I'm so in love with ya, honey
And everything will bring a chain of love
And in the mornin' when I rise
You bring a tear of joy to my eyes
And tell me, everything is gonna be alright
Love the girl who holds the world in a paper cup
Drink it up, love her and she'll bring you luck
And if you find she helps your mind, better take her home
Don't you live alone, try to earn what lovers own

And even though we ain't got money
I'm so in love with ya, honey
And everything will bring a chain of love
And in the mornin' when I rise
You bring a tear of joy to my eyes
And tell me, everything is gonna be alright

The Promised Land

It looks good. My techie is here right now fixing my computer. If all goes well, I can unplug this archaic POS and get back to normal. For all of you loyal readers (both of you), I apologize for being off line for so long.

I've heard it said that a computer cannot be stupid; rather it is limited only by a combination of its hardware/programming and its user's intelligence.

And I agree.

This seems to put me in a vulnerable position, for my computer is AWOL. It seems stupid, which means that there is either a problem with its hardware/programming, or the problem is my own intelligence.

Given these two possibilities, I must go with the first: that there is a problem with the hardware/programming. However, my diagnostic abilities are limited to phrases such as "It's not working," or "It's working now," or "This computer is a POS." This is why I have sat idle for a week now, waiting patiently for the kid who built it for me to return home from UM for the weekend to fix it.

The problem cannot be a lack in my intelligence, for I am the smartest person whom I know. Of course, there's always a "faster gun" out there, but such people are arrogant pricks, so I pay them no heed.

It occurs to me that there might even be a third problem. If a computer is limited by its user's intelligence, can it not be likewise enhanced by its user's intelligence? Like I said, I'm the smartest guy whom I know.

My new theory is that the computer somehow read the previous post in which I surmised that it was taking a "union break." I thus threatened to replace it with a Mac because it is easily replaceable (as are all union employees). However, the striking computer knew that I could not afford to hire a scab, unless I was willing to downgrade to eMachines (which it knew that I obviously was not willing to do).

In short, the damn thing called my bluff.

What sucks about someone calling your bluff is that you've got nothing. They call your bet and say, "Show 'em," and you get that sinking feeling in your stomach as you lay down a pair of fives. Don't believe those "Hi, I'm a Mac, and I'm a PC" commercials. PC's are not mumbling idiots who thrive only on spreadsheets. PC's are like Bill Gates: rutheless calculators of their own strengths and their enemies' weaknesses (not that this is a bad thing).

Basically, I've got a pair of fives, and PC knows it. There's no use in bluffing him anymore that I'm going to pick up a Mac. I'm screwed. I fold. Now where in the heck is that kid? I need PC back!

BS on 24

While 24 remains one of my favorite shows, it does not exist as such carte blanche.

How nice of 24 to pin the real threat to life on disaffected Russians. Forgive me if I do not recall the Eastern Orthodox Church (or even specifically the Russian Orthodox Church) ever advocating the death of non-parishoners. However, I can remember plenty of another such group stating such a goal.

Food for thought.

DiLorenzo v. The Socialist Liars

I just finished rereading Thomas DiLorenzo's How Capitalism Saved America.

It's like a breath of fresh air, even after a second read. If you haven't read it, do so. Afterwards, pick up Lorenzo's other great book: The Real Lincoln.

For decades, revisionist historians and quack economists have sought to strip us of the elements of fact that make us human, but DiLorenzo and others have struggled to show that the human spirit is one of triumph, not of defeat, one of glory, not of shame, and one of goodness, and not of evil.

Surely humans are capable of evil, but it is not evil for which we were made. We were made perfect and with the capacity for perfection. We stray from this capacity too often, but it is not inevitable that we must be reprobate. Hipocrites like Pat Robertson will cite scripture to defend their purposes, but I decline to do so. I only ask that you consider reason.

If human beings were made to be free (and who could imagine any other purpose?), then we are supposed to be free (it's really a matter of definition). If we were meant to be controlled, then by whom? An intellectual elite? Those appointed by the majority?

In truth, the intellectual elite (a class that has made a business out of producing nothing) and the appointed majority (i.e. politicians who promote nothing true but only what the winds suggest) have conspired to anoint themselves has the heroes--no, the saviors--of humanity. And yet, they are the damnation of it.

Consider the "Global Warming" camp. Did you know that twenty-five years ago it was the "Global Cooling" camp?

Seriously, check it out!

You see, climate is a fickle thing. It's long term, but those who wish to use it immorally for their own purposes must cling to its short-term implications. Thus, we are not now in danger of global cooling, but we are in danger of global warming. The only thing that has changed is the variables necessary for the unworthy to attain power over otherwise free and rational beings.

The politicians who cling to the "human consumption is causing global warming" rant are either terribly ignorant of what CLIMATE is or very insidious in their intentions.

If you don't know what insidious means, then grab a dictionary.

But at least scholars like DiLorenzo are willing to show the truth plainly. Before you doubt it, read the book.

Cluster F@#k

For some reason, by primary computer decided to take a vacation. All of a sudden it decides that it cannot find BIOS (which is crap, since I can run the BIOS setup utility). The guy who built the computer thinks that it might actually be a Windows problem (Steve Jobs must be so happy), but it'll be until Saturday that he can get here.

Personally, I think that my computer has joined a union.

It doesn't realize that it performs no special functions, that I can get a new computer or even use a really old one (like this vintage 1998 model upon which I'm now writing), so it's trying to throw its weight around. Instead, it's going to find itself out of work because dammit, it's not that freaking special. Here's news for you folks, if a union is necessary for your job security, then it's because your job isn't all that special. There's no neurosurgeons' union because not just any fool can be a neurosurgeon. There are unions for factory workers because anyone can work on the line. There are unions for carpenters because even a chimp can use a saw. There are unions for electricians because a kindergarten kid can tell you which wire is blue and which is red. Hell, teachers have degrees, but most secondary level teachers are pathetic novices in their subject areas.

I'm hereby issuing my computer an ultimatum. You have until Saturday to get this little strike over with. If you don't listen to reason, I will not only replace you; I will replace you with an iMac.

Berlioz

Symphonie Fantastique, by Hector Berlioz. Listen to it. Enjoy it. Feel it. Be human.

Islam=Peace?

If Islam is a religion of peace, then why don't so-called mainstream muslims decry the violence of its supposedly mistaken breathren?

If Islam is a religion of peace, why do all Islamic states act so abhorrently?

Why is there no decent Islamic state in the world?

Help me out, for I don't see this happening.

One of My Favorite Movies

In 1972, director Sydney Pollack teamed up with actor Robert Redford to make Jeremiah Johnson. It's a remarkable film in many respects. While the movie is very deep, with a rich plot zig-zagging with complications and character development, there is very little dialogue. Pollack's eye and Redford's talent combine to tell most of the story silently, if not always peacefully. Shot entirely in Utah, Jeremiah Johnson helps me understand why a Hollywood elitist like Redford would buy up thousands of acres and live on the outskirts of civilization. The natural beauty of the place is beyond description. Adjectives like "majestic," awesome," and even "spiritual" come to mind, but they only scratch at the surface and hint at the essence. It's also a heartbreaking and inspirational story. It starts off with a brief (and perfect) narrative intro. It's done as a voice over, following Johnson as he arrives at a town that is more of a camp:

His name was Jeremiah Johnson, and they say he wanted to be a mountain man. The story goes that he was a man of proper wit and adventurous spirit, suited to the mountains. Nobody knows whereabouts he come from and don't seem to matter much. He was a young man and ghostly stories about the tall hills didn't scare him none. He was looking for a Hawken gun, .50 caliber or better. He settled for a .30, but damn, it was a genuine Hawken, and you couldn't go no better. Bought him a good horse, and traps, and other truck that went with being a mountain man, and said good-bye to whatever life was down there below.

It then follows him as he heads into the Rocky Mountains as a disenchanted fool, the kind who needs to learn that the rest of the world, especially mother nature, could give a damn that he's pissed off or depressed.

He begrudges civilization and assumes that he'll find what he's looking for in the solitude of the mountains. He does so almost arrogantly, and quickly finds that nature is apathetic, and sometimes downright hostile. His struggle to survive early on in the film makes me recall Stephen Crane's short poem (which is really not much more than a musing):

A man said to the Universe,
"Sir, I exist!"
"However," replied the Universe,
"The fact has not created in me
"A sense of obligation."

However, with a healthy dose of determination and some good luck, Johnson manages through his first winter.

I don't want to spoil the film for you, so I'll sum up the rest quickly.

Johnson, who came into the mountains "Bettin' on forgettin' all the trouble that he knew,"* to be alone, ends up finding much more than solitude, only to lose it, and then avenge it.

In many respects, the movie is as vicious as it is beautiful (though not visually), and that is part of it's allure. It's humanity in a nutshell. All that a man can do, good and bad. All that nature is, good and bad. Life and death, love and hate, joy and pain.

Ultimately, the film is triumphant, not just in its protagonist, but in its message and overall quality.

Rent it this Friday night.

*From the ballad that runs throughout the movie.

Pancreatitis, Climate Change, and a False Dilemma

My good friend is ailing with a case of pancreatitis (inflammation of the pancreas).

Pancreatitis can be caused by excessive alcohol consumption or pregnancy.

So my friend is either a drunk, pregnant, or a pregnant drunk (gasp!).

On the other hand, this is merely a demonstration of false logic. While excessive alcoholism is perhaps the major cause of pancreatitis, and pregnancy is a possible cause of it, they are not the only possible causes. There are at least 18 other possible causes. I left them out because my purpose was to raise an eyebrow (especially when he recovers and reads this). It would have been just plain boring for me to say that it was caused by gall stones.

But when people want attention, they'll often create false dilemmas.

The climate is changing. This change (might) be linked to CO2 emissions. Therefore, CO2 emissions is causing the climate to change. Of course in the standard argument, they leave out the parenthesized "might" entirely.

Of course, if your real agenda is to exert control over how free people live, then you need to get them on board. The best way is to make them scared for their lives, so it becomes "Climate change will lead to death; CO2 emissions (might) cause climate change; therefore, CO2 emissions will lead to death!" Leave out all other possibilities (including the possibility that climate change is not caused by humans and that, even if it is, it may not necessarily result in our deaths). Stick to the story and ridicule all critics as either unscientific, illogical, unintelligent, uncaring, foolish, "twisted." or "laughable." Throw in a few clips of polar bears and penguins, and now even children will be upset. In essence, do more spin than science.

The most likely cause of climate change is the same thing that caused it thousands of years ago (when Earth became colder--the Ice Age--and when the Earth became warmer--from the Ice Age to present). Humans couldn't have caused those climate changes, so why are so many ready to pin the current change (which isn't even a change--we've been warming since the Ice Age) on humans? The answer is simple: money and power are at stake. Scientists get money if they convince politicians to fund their armegeddon studies; politicians get power if they convince voters that they must seize control over methods of production and consumption.

Of all the possible causes of the current climate change, this is by far the most likely. It contains not only actual evidence (e.g. the climate has changed before without human help), and it gives a rather likely argument against those who argue the contrary. All these things are true. The climate has changed before, and human beings will sometimes lie, cheat, and steal to get what they want.

Remember again that the stars never lie, but astrologers do.

For the record, my friend, while he really is suffering from pancreatitis, is neither a drunk nor is he pregnant.

Le Chanson de Roland

Betrayed, Charlemagne's brave nephew Roland and the tiny rear guard of the army face off against a Saracen army.

He and his men fight savagely against overwhelming odds. They slaughter and are slaughtered alike. During the fight, Roland injures the Saracen king, Marsilion, who then flees with the remnants of his army. But as the enemy cedes the field, Roland cedes his life.


From The Song of Roland, CXCVII

Beneath a pine was his resting place,
To the land of Spain hath he turned his face,
On his memory rose full many a thought
Of the lands he won and the fields he fought,
Of his gentle France, of his kin and line;
Of his nursing father, King Karl benign;
He may not tear and sob control,
Nor yet forgets he his parting soul.
To God's compassion he makes his cry:
"O Father true, who canst not lie,
"Who didst Lazarus raise unto life again,
And Daniel shield in the lions' den;
Shield my soul from its peril, due
For the sins I sinned my lifetime through.
He did his right hand glove uplift
Saint Gabriel took from his hand the gift;
Then drooped his head upon his breast,
And with clasped hands he went to rest.
God from on high sent down to him
One of his angel Cherubim
Saint Michael of Peril of the sea,
Saint Gabriel in company
From heaven they came for that soul of price,
And they bore it with them to Paradise.

Pick One

Which of the above photos is a sonogram of my currently in-utero son (no, Michael J. Fox may not kill him to make a stem cell smoothie), and which is legendary filmmaker Alfred Hitchcock? It's too close to call.

A Polemic on Climate Change

For good God's sake, one of the first damn principles in science and philosophy that I learned was that correlation does not equal causation. Similarly, the Romans recognized the error of thinking post hoc, ergo propter hoc (after this, therefore because of this).

And yet, so many scientists claim that the cause of global warming (which is, I admit, apparently undeniable--at least in the short term) is the result of increased carbon gas emissions since the advent of the industrial revolution (c. late 1700's). However, logic tells us clearly that just because these two things correlate (somewhat--check the freaking records!), neither can be construed as the cause of the other, for it is equally probable that they are either both results of an altogether different cause (which, makes no sense at all--that a warming climate led to an increased burning of fossil fuels is quite absurd) or completely unrelated (very likely, but not very dramatic).

Ockham's Razor--a basic principle in so-called "modern science" (I use quotation marks because the idea is about 700 years old)--tells us to look to lex parsimoniae (the law of parsimony/succinctness). Simply put, nearly one thousand years ago, William of Ockham pointed out that entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessitatem (entities should not be multiplied beyond necessity). In layman's terms, this means that the most likely answer/cause is the answer/cause. Such reasoning is quite reasonable whenever solid, irrefutable evidence pointing toward a single answer/cause does not exist.

Knowing this, I ask you which is more likely:

That the climate has been steadily increasing since the Ice Age (thousands of years before the industrial revolution), and is therefore a natural occurrence, completely independent of human action; or that the Earth warmed naturally from the Ice Age but then stopped at some kind of arbitrary point and that human beings have managed to pushed the climate beyond that "naturally" arbitrary point?

Basically, it is irrefutable that the climate warmed thousands of years ago without human assistance. Those cavemen, while they might have been able to use Geico.com, produced as a whole over several millennia, fewer "greenhouse gasses" then I do after a trip to White Castle. So it is established that the Earth can warm on its own.

Considering Ockham's contribution, then, it is far more likely that the Earth is simply continuing what it started ten thousand years ago with only brief respites.

Let's not forget the motivation behind the Chicken Little's who cry that the sky is falling.

Some are politicians (e.g. Al Gore) who can use such fear to catapult themselves to the pinnacles of power. Many are egotists who are so pathetically lonely that they must use such fear to make themselves seem important. Still others have their eyes set on the money that keeps pouring in from ignorantly desperate governments who lack the wisdom to just say "No." Perhaps more insidious is the fact that many socialists who advocate a command economy have seized upon the issue in order to gain control over the modes of production and consumption.

But let us not forget that demagogues lead their people to Hell. Egotists care for no one but themselves. The greedy will do anything for money. And the socialists will sacrifice the lives of millions to see their collectivist schemes enacted. You don't believe me? Study the histories of the Stalinist Russia and Maoist China.

They tell us that it is likely that humans are causing global warming. However, with a complete lack of knowledge about what causes the climate to increase naturally, anything is a likely candidate. Imagine a room full of one thousand people. The room is dark. No one can see. A murder is committed. The lights return. Every person there is equally likely a suspect.

While the industrial revolution was underway in Great Britain and the United States, Ludwig von Beethoven composed his 9th Symphony, famous for its "Ode to Joy." Ever since it was first performed, it has been performed constantly. It correlates to the supposed advent of global warming.

Another factor that most people don't consider is that human beings could not come close to recording accurate temperatures until the early 1700's. Since the Earth has been around far longer than that, these so-called scientists are claiming that a mere 300 years (out of millions and millions of total years) is enough to establish supposedly "normal" climate patterns. You should not have to think long to see this as nonsensical. 300 years is not even one half of 1,000 years, and recorded history far exceeds 2,000 years. In a nutshell, 300 years is a completely insufficient sample. Add to this the fact that the climate has gradually warmed on its own since the Ice Age, and you can see even more problems with the "Sky is Falling" camp.

Still another point to consider is that whenever a major volcanic eruption occurs, the Earth (quite naturally) deposits far more "greenhouse gasses" into the atmosphere than man has ever produced in all of history. Check the data on Mount Pinatubo's 1991 eruption for actual evidence to this point.

If nature itself can outdo man's entire repertoire in a single volcanic eruption, who's the more likely culprit in global warming?

Remember, I'm not saying that overall temperatures have not increased since they've been recorded. What I'm saying is that there is no proof that humans have caused this increase, and that such a claim is baseless. Conjecture is not evidence. Possibility is not evidence. If it were, then every person in Dallas on November 22, 1963 could be a "likely" suspect in President Kennedy's assassination (for the record, it was Lee Harvey Oswald. Read Case Closed by Gerald Posner if you wish to disagree).