*Note: I accessed the following text dated 10/8/07 from Mr. Paul's own website.*
Any response to this paper's Friday editorial on my foreign policy position must rest on two fundamental assertions: first, that the Founding Fathers were not isolationists; and second, that their political philosophy -- the wisdom of the Constitution, the Declaration, and our Revolution itself -- is not just a primitive cultural relic.
If I understand the editors' concerns, I have not been accused of deviating from the Founders' logic; if anything I have been accused of adhering to it too strictly. The question, therefore, before readers -- and soon voters -- is the same question I have asked for almost 20 years in Congress: by what superior wisdom have we now declared Jefferson, Washington, and Madison to be "unrealistic and dangerous"? Why do we insist on throwing away their most considered warnings?
A non-interventionist foreign policy is not an isolationist foreign policy. It is quite the opposite. Under a Paul administration, the United States would trade freely with any nation that seeks to engage with us. American citizens would be encouraged to visit other countries and interact with other peoples rather than be told by their own government that certain countries are off limits to them.
American citizens would be allowed to spend their hard-earned money wherever they wish across the globe, not told that certain countries are under embargo and thus off limits. An American trade policy would encourage private American businesses to seek partners overseas and engage them in trade. The hostility toward American citizens overseas in the wake of our current foreign policy has actually made it difficult if not dangerous for Americans to travel abroad. Is this not an isolationist consequence from a policy of aggressive foreign interventionism?
It is not we non-interventionists who are isolationsists. The real isolationists are those who impose sanctions and embargoes on countries and peoples across the globe because they disagree with the internal and foreign policies of their leaders. The real isolationists are those who choose to use force overseas to promote democracy, rather than seek change through diplomacy, engagement, and by setting a positive example.
I do not believe that ideas have an expiration date, or that their value can be gauged by their novelty. The test for new and old is that of wisdom and experience, or as the editors wrote "historical reality," which argues passionately now against the course of anti-Constitutional interventionism.
A Paul administration would see Americans engaged overseas like never before, in business and cultural activities. But a Paul administration would never attempt to export democracy or other values at the barrel of a gun, as we have seen over and over again that this is a counterproductive approach that actually leads the United States to be resented and more isolated in the world.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Sunday, October 07, 2007
At the Christening
Today, at Robbie's baptism, I showed Mark how to daub his fingers in holy water and make the sign of the cross on his forehead, abdomen, and both shoulders.
"Why do I do this? Mark asked.
"Because it makes God happy," I replied.
"Why does God want my shirt to get wet?" he responded.
I had no answer. Add that to the other slew of theological dilemmas.
"Why do I do this? Mark asked.
"Because it makes God happy," I replied.
"Why does God want my shirt to get wet?" he responded.
I had no answer. Add that to the other slew of theological dilemmas.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
The Fight
It was my second day of 8th grade, and I was 13 years old by less than a month. Yet, in the final minutes of the school day, I would accomplish a feat that would solidify my reputation.
I lived 1.8 miles from school, which meant that I did not qualify for the school bus--the minimum distance being two miles. The nearest bus stop from home was half a mile. That was better than 1.8 miles, so I took the bus on days that I did not bring my tenor saxophone home (my mom usually picked me up when I brought the sax home)
So it's the end of my second day at Tyee Middle School in Bellevue, Washington, and I'm not bringing my sax home, so I get on the bus.
I seated myself next to beautiful Michelle. I probably didn't have a shot with her (and she probably rolled her eyes when I sat down), but I was sitting next to her nonetheless.
Everything was great. If she rolled her eyes, I didn't notice, and we had the beginnings of a perfectly delightful conversation.
That's when Woodsy showed up.
We called him Woodsy, but that wasn't his name. If it gives you any idea as to how big of a loser this kid was, I don't even remember his name--and I remember some pretty obscure stuff.
Woodsy was the fat kid who nobody liked. When I say the fat kid, I don't mean chubby. I mean grotesquely fat. 5' 9" and 300 pounds fat. When our gym class had the swimming unit, this kid was allowed to wear his t-shirt so that the rest of us wouldn't have to see his gigantic man-breasts. There is honestly no image that I can provide to help you really understand how enormous the kid was. He was taller than most and fatter than all.
And he walked right up to me and Michelle and ordered me to move.
"This is my seat," he said with the arrogant tone of a man who thinks that he's talking to a pipsqueak. I was about 5'6" and exactly 152 lbs--I know this because 155 lbs. was the maximum weight for my football league, and I had just weighed in.
I looked at him, and I looked at Michelle. I instantly knew that no good would come of this.
I'm a pretty clever man, and I was a pretty clever boy. So when he said, "You're in my seat," I replied with the cleverest thing that I could think of at the time.
Something like, "I don't see your name on it."
"Move it, or I'll make you," he threatened; and I could see that he truly meant it.
This kid had been teased for the majority of his life, and I was going to be the object of his vengeance. He had picked his victim carefully, for I was not one with a reputation for toughness (remember, I was in the band).
Once he'd told me that he'd make me move, everything slowed down. I was able to think clearly, but it seemed as though time was nonexistent. In the absence of space-time, I thought long and hard about my response. If I moved, I'd look like a wussy to Michelle. On top of that, it would surely be the talk of the school that I( had backed down to Woodsy.
I did not fancy the outcome of compliance, so I answered his threat defiantly with, "I'd like to see you try," and then something about his mother.
Like I said, time had come to a halt, so I remember everything with crystal clarity.
After I'd refused his command and insulted his mother, a look of pure rage came across Woodsy's face. He'd thought that for once someone else would be the victim of ridicule, but once again it was him. If a clock had been ticking in the background, each second would have counted ten in real time.
I knew that I was going to have to fight, but I was not prepared for what happened next. Instead of punching me--for which I was ready--he turned and sat on me. All 300+ lbs. of him came down on my lap.
I was not ready for this, but my adrenaline was pumping--and he was a bit off balance--so I threw him off of me and back into the bus aisle.
Remember how I said that time had nearly stopped? At this point it sped forward to make up for its lost seconds.
I jumped into the aisle to face him with my back against the back of the bus (I was about half-way between the front and the back of the bus).
He lunged forward with both hands outstretched, as if to choke me. I stepped back with my right foot and then leaned forward with my left and delivered a right hand punch to the top of his left eye socket.
He recoiled instantly, spewing forth a shower of spit and screeching in pain as his head snapped back.
I took a step back, waiting for him to recover. He shook his head like a bull and (like a bull) charged me. I back-peddled to the end of the bus, keeping him narrowly at bay with both of my arms outstretched.
I pushed back as he pushed forward, but I was stuck with my back pinned to the rear of the bus. I still remember the furious glare of his eye--the other one, the one I had hit, was swollen shut.
In only a few seconds, the bus driver was there, yelling for us to stop. Since I was not a bad kid, never before had I been in such serious trouble, I dropped my hands in submission.
Woodsy did not.
Instead, he reached out, snatched my glasses right off of my face, and crushed them between his hands.
I didn't even think about my next move. I just grabbed him by the collar, pulled him toward me and turned him around toward the back window. I remember looking at him, and I remember the surprised look on his face. Then I drew my right arm back and let loose with a furious jab that landed squarely on his nose. His head could not snap back this time because it hit the window, and I recall the popping sound as his nose broke. He squealed again, and this time blood flew from his mouth and peppered my face. He slowly slid down the back of the bus with his hands over his face and making the unmistakable sounds of a 13 year old in excruciating pain (half-way between a stuck pig and a sobbing toddler). Try to imagine how beat up the kid was. Four years later, a different guy backed down from a confrontation with me because a mutual friend of ours reminded him that I was a good fighter--and that was a direct reference to this fight.
The bus driver grabbed me by the shoulder and yanked me between her and Woodsy. I did not resist. I was shaking. I was scared. I'd never done anything like this before. She also grabbed Woodsy, and as she pushed me from behind, she pulled him down the aisle.
As I exited the bus, I saw my mother. She had come to pick me up with my sax. Instead, she'd spent the last minute terrified as kids told her that I was fighting. When she heard people yell, "Gross, blood!" like any mother she had feared that it was me. Instead, I passed her unscathed with just enough time to say, "He broke my glasses!" At that moment, she saw Woodsy being pulled from the bus, with his one eye swollen shut and his nose spewing blood. "Oh Jesus!" she said--and I have to admit that I was pretty proud of that. Take what you want from that admission, you Freudian creeps.
On the way to the main office, it occurred to me that I was in big trouble. I knew that I'd broken Woodsy's nose. There was no mistaking that sound--it was like a champagne bottle. I, on the other hand, was completely unhurt.
I still remember sitting in the Assistant Principle's office and explaining to Mr. Giadrone that I had never intended to fight and that I only hit the kid because he'd gone after me.
I was lucky. Since I'd never been in any real trouble before, I got away with only a one day in-school suspension. I managed this by being sufficiently contrite and convincing Mr. G that I actually hoped that Woodsy and I could become friends.
I still remember the look on Woodsy's face when I suggested that we might be cool. He had no friends at all, so this was like a birthday and Christmas present rolled in one. If he played his cards right, then he'd end up with a buddy.
Unfortunately for him, I had no intention of being friends. I'd only said it because I knew that it was what Mr. G wanted to hear.
Woodsy was absent for two days., and he spent his first day back in in-school suspension. I had already served my in-school suspension, and the outcome of the fight had bolstered my reputation to the point that one of my football friends, who went to another middle school, had even heard of the altercation. These were glory days for me.
So here I was, basking in glory during lunch recess, when Woodsy approached. He was wearing sunglasses, but anyone could still see the black and blue eye and the tape meant to straighten his broken nose. He'd looked like a loser before, but now he looked even worse.
I scarcely remembered suggesting that the two of us could be friends, and when I'd said it, I'd said it only to get out of trouble. However, to him it had been an answered prayer.
I stood there amongst several friends as he approached. I saw them look at me as he neared. Woodsy smiled, waved, and said, "Hi buddy!"
I knew how important it had been for me to beat the kid up, and I also knew that I could not be his "buddy" and retain the increased status that I had achieved by beating the holy hell out of him. And it was in this epiphany that I chose to do the one thing that I regretted from the whole thing.
I cocked my fist and glared at him. I told him to get his fat ass away from me or that I'd beat him again.
My friends laughed as Woodsy's smile sank. What I'd just said had hurt him more than my fists had three days ago. I'd convinced the kid that I was willing to be his friend, and for three days he had reveled in the idea of having at least one buddy. Instead, I tore that dream to shreds, and for what? To make me look cool to some other 13 year olds, none of whom do I even talk to today?
I don't regret cracking his left eye socket. He'd lunged forward as if to choke me.
I don't regret breaking his nose. When my guard was down, he swiped off and crushed my glasses.
But I do regret saying what I said three days after it had happened. When I'd hit him, it was honest to goodness self-defense. But when I said what I said, it was just mean.
Besides, in the end, Michelle never even went out with me.
I lived 1.8 miles from school, which meant that I did not qualify for the school bus--the minimum distance being two miles. The nearest bus stop from home was half a mile. That was better than 1.8 miles, so I took the bus on days that I did not bring my tenor saxophone home (my mom usually picked me up when I brought the sax home)
So it's the end of my second day at Tyee Middle School in Bellevue, Washington, and I'm not bringing my sax home, so I get on the bus.
I seated myself next to beautiful Michelle. I probably didn't have a shot with her (and she probably rolled her eyes when I sat down), but I was sitting next to her nonetheless.
Everything was great. If she rolled her eyes, I didn't notice, and we had the beginnings of a perfectly delightful conversation.
That's when Woodsy showed up.
We called him Woodsy, but that wasn't his name. If it gives you any idea as to how big of a loser this kid was, I don't even remember his name--and I remember some pretty obscure stuff.
Woodsy was the fat kid who nobody liked. When I say the fat kid, I don't mean chubby. I mean grotesquely fat. 5' 9" and 300 pounds fat. When our gym class had the swimming unit, this kid was allowed to wear his t-shirt so that the rest of us wouldn't have to see his gigantic man-breasts. There is honestly no image that I can provide to help you really understand how enormous the kid was. He was taller than most and fatter than all.
And he walked right up to me and Michelle and ordered me to move.
"This is my seat," he said with the arrogant tone of a man who thinks that he's talking to a pipsqueak. I was about 5'6" and exactly 152 lbs--I know this because 155 lbs. was the maximum weight for my football league, and I had just weighed in.
I looked at him, and I looked at Michelle. I instantly knew that no good would come of this.
I'm a pretty clever man, and I was a pretty clever boy. So when he said, "You're in my seat," I replied with the cleverest thing that I could think of at the time.
Something like, "I don't see your name on it."
"Move it, or I'll make you," he threatened; and I could see that he truly meant it.
This kid had been teased for the majority of his life, and I was going to be the object of his vengeance. He had picked his victim carefully, for I was not one with a reputation for toughness (remember, I was in the band).
Once he'd told me that he'd make me move, everything slowed down. I was able to think clearly, but it seemed as though time was nonexistent. In the absence of space-time, I thought long and hard about my response. If I moved, I'd look like a wussy to Michelle. On top of that, it would surely be the talk of the school that I( had backed down to Woodsy.
I did not fancy the outcome of compliance, so I answered his threat defiantly with, "I'd like to see you try," and then something about his mother.
Like I said, time had come to a halt, so I remember everything with crystal clarity.
After I'd refused his command and insulted his mother, a look of pure rage came across Woodsy's face. He'd thought that for once someone else would be the victim of ridicule, but once again it was him. If a clock had been ticking in the background, each second would have counted ten in real time.
I knew that I was going to have to fight, but I was not prepared for what happened next. Instead of punching me--for which I was ready--he turned and sat on me. All 300+ lbs. of him came down on my lap.
I was not ready for this, but my adrenaline was pumping--and he was a bit off balance--so I threw him off of me and back into the bus aisle.
Remember how I said that time had nearly stopped? At this point it sped forward to make up for its lost seconds.
I jumped into the aisle to face him with my back against the back of the bus (I was about half-way between the front and the back of the bus).
He lunged forward with both hands outstretched, as if to choke me. I stepped back with my right foot and then leaned forward with my left and delivered a right hand punch to the top of his left eye socket.
He recoiled instantly, spewing forth a shower of spit and screeching in pain as his head snapped back.
I took a step back, waiting for him to recover. He shook his head like a bull and (like a bull) charged me. I back-peddled to the end of the bus, keeping him narrowly at bay with both of my arms outstretched.
I pushed back as he pushed forward, but I was stuck with my back pinned to the rear of the bus. I still remember the furious glare of his eye--the other one, the one I had hit, was swollen shut.
In only a few seconds, the bus driver was there, yelling for us to stop. Since I was not a bad kid, never before had I been in such serious trouble, I dropped my hands in submission.
Woodsy did not.
Instead, he reached out, snatched my glasses right off of my face, and crushed them between his hands.
I didn't even think about my next move. I just grabbed him by the collar, pulled him toward me and turned him around toward the back window. I remember looking at him, and I remember the surprised look on his face. Then I drew my right arm back and let loose with a furious jab that landed squarely on his nose. His head could not snap back this time because it hit the window, and I recall the popping sound as his nose broke. He squealed again, and this time blood flew from his mouth and peppered my face. He slowly slid down the back of the bus with his hands over his face and making the unmistakable sounds of a 13 year old in excruciating pain (half-way between a stuck pig and a sobbing toddler). Try to imagine how beat up the kid was. Four years later, a different guy backed down from a confrontation with me because a mutual friend of ours reminded him that I was a good fighter--and that was a direct reference to this fight.
The bus driver grabbed me by the shoulder and yanked me between her and Woodsy. I did not resist. I was shaking. I was scared. I'd never done anything like this before. She also grabbed Woodsy, and as she pushed me from behind, she pulled him down the aisle.
As I exited the bus, I saw my mother. She had come to pick me up with my sax. Instead, she'd spent the last minute terrified as kids told her that I was fighting. When she heard people yell, "Gross, blood!" like any mother she had feared that it was me. Instead, I passed her unscathed with just enough time to say, "He broke my glasses!" At that moment, she saw Woodsy being pulled from the bus, with his one eye swollen shut and his nose spewing blood. "Oh Jesus!" she said--and I have to admit that I was pretty proud of that. Take what you want from that admission, you Freudian creeps.
On the way to the main office, it occurred to me that I was in big trouble. I knew that I'd broken Woodsy's nose. There was no mistaking that sound--it was like a champagne bottle. I, on the other hand, was completely unhurt.
I still remember sitting in the Assistant Principle's office and explaining to Mr. Giadrone that I had never intended to fight and that I only hit the kid because he'd gone after me.
I was lucky. Since I'd never been in any real trouble before, I got away with only a one day in-school suspension. I managed this by being sufficiently contrite and convincing Mr. G that I actually hoped that Woodsy and I could become friends.
I still remember the look on Woodsy's face when I suggested that we might be cool. He had no friends at all, so this was like a birthday and Christmas present rolled in one. If he played his cards right, then he'd end up with a buddy.
Unfortunately for him, I had no intention of being friends. I'd only said it because I knew that it was what Mr. G wanted to hear.
Woodsy was absent for two days., and he spent his first day back in in-school suspension. I had already served my in-school suspension, and the outcome of the fight had bolstered my reputation to the point that one of my football friends, who went to another middle school, had even heard of the altercation. These were glory days for me.
So here I was, basking in glory during lunch recess, when Woodsy approached. He was wearing sunglasses, but anyone could still see the black and blue eye and the tape meant to straighten his broken nose. He'd looked like a loser before, but now he looked even worse.
I scarcely remembered suggesting that the two of us could be friends, and when I'd said it, I'd said it only to get out of trouble. However, to him it had been an answered prayer.
I stood there amongst several friends as he approached. I saw them look at me as he neared. Woodsy smiled, waved, and said, "Hi buddy!"
I knew how important it had been for me to beat the kid up, and I also knew that I could not be his "buddy" and retain the increased status that I had achieved by beating the holy hell out of him. And it was in this epiphany that I chose to do the one thing that I regretted from the whole thing.
I cocked my fist and glared at him. I told him to get his fat ass away from me or that I'd beat him again.
My friends laughed as Woodsy's smile sank. What I'd just said had hurt him more than my fists had three days ago. I'd convinced the kid that I was willing to be his friend, and for three days he had reveled in the idea of having at least one buddy. Instead, I tore that dream to shreds, and for what? To make me look cool to some other 13 year olds, none of whom do I even talk to today?
I don't regret cracking his left eye socket. He'd lunged forward as if to choke me.
I don't regret breaking his nose. When my guard was down, he swiped off and crushed my glasses.
But I do regret saying what I said three days after it had happened. When I'd hit him, it was honest to goodness self-defense. But when I said what I said, it was just mean.
Besides, in the end, Michelle never even went out with me.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Quick Afterthoughts
But governments feed the poor...
No, governments steal from the productive to feed the unproductive. Don't give me any trash about morality. It's moral and charitable for someone who has a surplus to give freely to those in need. Forcing people to fork over money is not the same as the people giving money. It's robbery. If you have guns and you force others to surrender their money, then you are a robber or the government--essentially the same thing.
But governments sign free trade agreements...
No, "free trade agreements" like "NAFTA" are hundreds to thousands of pages long. "Free trade" is only two words long.
But governments sign peace treaties...
No, a peace treaty is only necessary after one has waged a war.
But governments prevent racism from being a factor in employment, housing, etc.
That's it. We free market people must always endure the argument that we have a naive view of human nature.
Who's really naive?
Is it naive to assume that people will act in what they believe is their own interest? Of course it isn't. It's not naive. It's obvious.
People get what they want or need by providing it themselves or trading with others, so it follows that people who have the most freedom to get what they want or need will do it better. Anything that gets in their way (e.g. government) is, therefore, bad.
This concludes my rant for today. CSI was awesome.
No, governments steal from the productive to feed the unproductive. Don't give me any trash about morality. It's moral and charitable for someone who has a surplus to give freely to those in need. Forcing people to fork over money is not the same as the people giving money. It's robbery. If you have guns and you force others to surrender their money, then you are a robber or the government--essentially the same thing.
But governments sign free trade agreements...
No, "free trade agreements" like "NAFTA" are hundreds to thousands of pages long. "Free trade" is only two words long.
But governments sign peace treaties...
No, a peace treaty is only necessary after one has waged a war.
But governments prevent racism from being a factor in employment, housing, etc.
That's it. We free market people must always endure the argument that we have a naive view of human nature.
Who's really naive?
Is it naive to assume that people will act in what they believe is their own interest? Of course it isn't. It's not naive. It's obvious.
People get what they want or need by providing it themselves or trading with others, so it follows that people who have the most freedom to get what they want or need will do it better. Anything that gets in their way (e.g. government) is, therefore, bad.
This concludes my rant for today. CSI was awesome.
A Very Minor Rant
I was talking with some teenagers today about basic economic principles, and the topic was Comparative Advantage. I argued that certain jobs were being outsourced because the United States simply no longer has the comparative advantage in the production of goods. Think about it. If the something can be produced elsewhere at an extremely reduced cost, then only a fool would produce that thing here.
So I asked, "What is America's comparative advantage?" I was thinking services and ideas--ready to cite the example that the iPod was conceived of and designed in California, even if it was assembled in China.
Instead, one of them shrugged and said, "Uh, government?"
Alas, they've been hoodwinked by the political-industrial complex before their 13th birthdays.
The only things that governments produce are wars, recessions, tyranny, and misery. When a people are at peace, doing well economically, free, and happy, it's not because of what the government is doing. It's because of what the government is not doing.
Governments don't wage peace. They wage wars.
Government policies don't create prosperity. They create poverty. It's the lack of government policies that allows free markets to create prosperity.
Governments don't create freedom. They create tyranny. The feds didn't have jack squat to do with our being free. We're born free with independent minds, and we'd stay free if only governments would get the heck out of the way.
Governments don't enhance happiness. They reduce it. They don't even ensure the pursuit of happiness, unless you mean that they leave people alone to pursue happiness as they see fit. That's not doing something. That is not doing something.
It seems counterintuitive to many, but governments do good only when they do nothing.
So I asked, "What is America's comparative advantage?" I was thinking services and ideas--ready to cite the example that the iPod was conceived of and designed in California, even if it was assembled in China.
Instead, one of them shrugged and said, "Uh, government?"
Alas, they've been hoodwinked by the political-industrial complex before their 13th birthdays.
The only things that governments produce are wars, recessions, tyranny, and misery. When a people are at peace, doing well economically, free, and happy, it's not because of what the government is doing. It's because of what the government is not doing.
Governments don't wage peace. They wage wars.
Government policies don't create prosperity. They create poverty. It's the lack of government policies that allows free markets to create prosperity.
Governments don't create freedom. They create tyranny. The feds didn't have jack squat to do with our being free. We're born free with independent minds, and we'd stay free if only governments would get the heck out of the way.
Governments don't enhance happiness. They reduce it. They don't even ensure the pursuit of happiness, unless you mean that they leave people alone to pursue happiness as they see fit. That's not doing something. That is not doing something.
It seems counterintuitive to many, but governments do good only when they do nothing.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Religious Conflict
I was cautioned by someone that suggesting that Mohammad was not God's prophet is extremely insulting to Muslims.
Really?
By that rationale, can I not counter that suggesting that Mohammed is God's prophet is extremely insulting to Christians, Jews, Hindus, Buddists, Athiests, Agnostics, etc.?
Obviously I must think that Mohammad was either crazy or a liar. Otherwise, I'd be Muslim. If I'm wrong, then Allah will punish me.
The difference is that I will not kill or in any way harm someone who suggests that Jesus was not God's Son. I might think that such a person will burn in Hell, but that's not my decision or my doing.
Really?
By that rationale, can I not counter that suggesting that Mohammed is God's prophet is extremely insulting to Christians, Jews, Hindus, Buddists, Athiests, Agnostics, etc.?
Obviously I must think that Mohammad was either crazy or a liar. Otherwise, I'd be Muslim. If I'm wrong, then Allah will punish me.
The difference is that I will not kill or in any way harm someone who suggests that Jesus was not God's Son. I might think that such a person will burn in Hell, but that's not my decision or my doing.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Ahmadinejad Speaks
During a speech at Columbia University, Iranian president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad fended off assaults on his view of the Holocaust. Ahmadinejad has, in the past, denied the Holocaust as an actual event, implying that it is part of a Zionist conspiracy to claim Palestine. However, he seemed to backtrack a bit, granting the possibility that it might have happened, but again asserting that it did not justify Zionism.
Still, in reference to the historical record of the Holocaust, he replied “There’s nothing known as absolute."
I just wish that someone would have then pointed out that there is far more absolute evidence for the Holocaust than even a shred of possible likelihood that Mohammad is God's prophet.
The historical record of Mohammad being God's prophet consists in his saying that he was, and that his followers in centuries hence have been willing to murder anyone who denies or even questions it.
Put that in your Kool-Aid and drink it, Ahmadinejad.
Still, in reference to the historical record of the Holocaust, he replied “There’s nothing known as absolute."
I just wish that someone would have then pointed out that there is far more absolute evidence for the Holocaust than even a shred of possible likelihood that Mohammad is God's prophet.
The historical record of Mohammad being God's prophet consists in his saying that he was, and that his followers in centuries hence have been willing to murder anyone who denies or even questions it.
Put that in your Kool-Aid and drink it, Ahmadinejad.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Ron Paul, People!!!!
I maintain a certain thesis that the average person is a moron.
The fact that tyrants and scumbags such as Rudy, Hillary, Barack, and Fred capture the public eye more than Ron Paul is exhibit number one.
Go to Ron's website: http://www.ronpaul2008.com/, and dare to refute one of his positions on this blog.
Hell, I triple dog dare you!
The fact that tyrants and scumbags such as Rudy, Hillary, Barack, and Fred capture the public eye more than Ron Paul is exhibit number one.
Go to Ron's website: http://www.ronpaul2008.com/, and dare to refute one of his positions on this blog.
Hell, I triple dog dare you!
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Connotations (A Lesson for Backstreet's Back)
Words matter, and words that have somewhat similar meanings can and do carry vastly different connotations.
"He touched my face" can be worded as "He struck my face," but one is more accurate than the other depending on severity. "She's rather unwell" and "She's dying" can refer to the same thing, but there's a difference between someone who's simply under the weather and someone who's knocking on heaven's door.
Don't say "She's dying" when she has the flu, and don't say "She's rather unwell" when she's flatlining.
Rosie O'Donnell isn't "controversial." She's an attention hog.
Stevie Wonder isn't visually impared. He's blind.
Someone in convulsions from a drug overdose is not merely "buzzed," and someone whose brain is failing is not merely "high."
Put that in your Kool-Aid (sweetened with Splenda), and drink it.
"He touched my face" can be worded as "He struck my face," but one is more accurate than the other depending on severity. "She's rather unwell" and "She's dying" can refer to the same thing, but there's a difference between someone who's simply under the weather and someone who's knocking on heaven's door.
Don't say "She's dying" when she has the flu, and don't say "She's rather unwell" when she's flatlining.
Rosie O'Donnell isn't "controversial." She's an attention hog.
Stevie Wonder isn't visually impared. He's blind.
Someone in convulsions from a drug overdose is not merely "buzzed," and someone whose brain is failing is not merely "high."
Put that in your Kool-Aid (sweetened with Splenda), and drink it.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Sugar
To rebut a couple of comments made on my Kool-Aid post, go to "Ask a Scientist" at the web site for the Cornell Center for Materials Research.
Perhaps since our bodies convert glucose (i.e. blood sugar) into energy, people just assume that a massive intake of sugar equals a massive boost of energy. Of course, they make this assumption without considering how quickly the body reacts to and reduces increased glucose levels.
Perhaps since our bodies convert glucose (i.e. blood sugar) into energy, people just assume that a massive intake of sugar equals a massive boost of energy. Of course, they make this assumption without considering how quickly the body reacts to and reduces increased glucose levels.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Kool Aid
There's way too much sugar in Kool Aid, so I've started buying Splenda in bulk as a substitute. It works extremely well, and I recommend it.
What I do not recommend is forgetting the Splenda. That's what I just did ten minutes ago. Drinking Kool Aid without a sweetener is like drinking dehydrated musk ox urine. Hark my words. There's a reason why it wasn't a competition on Fear Factor. People wouldn't drink it for a mere fifty grand.
What I do not recommend is forgetting the Splenda. That's what I just did ten minutes ago. Drinking Kool Aid without a sweetener is like drinking dehydrated musk ox urine. Hark my words. There's a reason why it wasn't a competition on Fear Factor. People wouldn't drink it for a mere fifty grand.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Political Quiz
Click on this link and take The World's Smallest Political Quiz to determine where you stand as a political thinker.
Surprise, I scored as a Libertarian!
Surprise, I scored as a Libertarian!
Sportsline.Idots
Suppose that Farmer Joe owns the largest and most popular pumpkin patch on the planet. Customers purchase pumpkins online and are promised prompt delivery. He receives few orders throughout the late Autumn and all of Winter and Summer, so he keeps his staff small.
Now imagine that Farmer Joe does not hire any new hands come September. In late September and throughout October, the orders are pouring in, but Farmer Joe cannot fill the orders on time because he did not anticipate the drastic increase in pumpkin demand.
He apologizes to all of his customers, writing via email that the sheer volume of orders is making it difficult for him and his staff to deliver promptly. He begs for patience and forgiveness.
Many consumers might forgive Farmer Joe, expecting the guy to realize that he needs to expand his workforce when demand for pumpkins peaks. But what if the same thing happens year after year?
The above scenario is dedicated to the fantasy football folks at CBS Sportsline. They can't seem to understand why there is such a heavy amount of traffic on their website on weekends beginning in September and lasting through December.
Now imagine that Farmer Joe does not hire any new hands come September. In late September and throughout October, the orders are pouring in, but Farmer Joe cannot fill the orders on time because he did not anticipate the drastic increase in pumpkin demand.
He apologizes to all of his customers, writing via email that the sheer volume of orders is making it difficult for him and his staff to deliver promptly. He begs for patience and forgiveness.
Many consumers might forgive Farmer Joe, expecting the guy to realize that he needs to expand his workforce when demand for pumpkins peaks. But what if the same thing happens year after year?
The above scenario is dedicated to the fantasy football folks at CBS Sportsline. They can't seem to understand why there is such a heavy amount of traffic on their website on weekends beginning in September and lasting through December.
Friday, September 14, 2007
Buddy Holly the crash site
This video covers the ground upon which, according to Don MacLean, "The Music Died." It's where Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and J.P. Richardson (a.k.a. The Big Bopper) crashed in 1959.
The lyrics were written and performed by 50's rocker Eddie Cochran, a close friend of Holly's. Notice how Cochran's voice breaks in the verse about Holly.
Ironically, the song was released after Cochran's own untimely death in a car accident.
The opening and closing verse has been omitted:
"Look up in the sky, up towards the north
There are three new stars, brightly shining forth
They're shining oh-so bright from heaven above
Gee, we're gonna miss you, everybody sends their love"
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Russian Politics
So it's news that Putin fired Russia's Prime Minister.
On the contrary, it's news that Russia even has a Prime Minister.
I use Russia as an example for all of the idiots who think that possession of raw materials is necessary for a country to be wealthy. Japan has few natural resources, but it has wealth. Russia has a great many natural resources, and it's a case-study in misery.
Honestly, I don't understand the Russians. What did Churchill call them, a riddle wrapped in an enigma inside a puzzle? (or something like that). In 1917, they forced the Tsar to abdicate his authority to the Duma, and for the first time ever, Russia was free of tyranny. A few months later, they let the Bolsheviks take control, and they made the Tsars look like puppet monarchists. After decades of communism, the Russians finally stood up for themselves, only once again to slip back into their old habits.
Can the Russian people as a whole have something akin to a societal form of "Battered Women's Syndrome"?
On the contrary, it's news that Russia even has a Prime Minister.
I use Russia as an example for all of the idiots who think that possession of raw materials is necessary for a country to be wealthy. Japan has few natural resources, but it has wealth. Russia has a great many natural resources, and it's a case-study in misery.
Honestly, I don't understand the Russians. What did Churchill call them, a riddle wrapped in an enigma inside a puzzle? (or something like that). In 1917, they forced the Tsar to abdicate his authority to the Duma, and for the first time ever, Russia was free of tyranny. A few months later, they let the Bolsheviks take control, and they made the Tsars look like puppet monarchists. After decades of communism, the Russians finally stood up for themselves, only once again to slip back into their old habits.
Can the Russian people as a whole have something akin to a societal form of "Battered Women's Syndrome"?
Saturday, September 08, 2007
WNBA et al.
I picked up the newspaper this morning, and I felt violated.
The FRONT PAGE HEADLINE of the news announced that the Detroit Shock had won a game. Granted, it was a playoff-championship game: but the FRONT PAGE HEADLINE?
Honestly, I don't care about the WNBA, and I don't know anyone who does. But still, the media tries to cram it in our faces that the WNBA exists. It's a form of journalistic rape. We've said, "NO!," but they keep pressing us, trying to make us interested in it.
It's like with soccer. Apparently, we're all screwed up in this country because we don't enjoy watching soccer. They love it in Europe, so we need to love it over here.
Hey newsmen, here's some (apparently) news for you.
The WNBA is lame. We don't care about it. Give us real front page stories.
Soccer is lame. We don't care about it. Tell David Beckham that he can take a hike.
All of this forcing WNBA and soccer down our throats is equivalent to prison sodomy (well, then I guess forcing it "down our throats" was incorrect phraseology). We don't want it, and just because the media has the power to force it on us doesn't mean that they should. Let me do my time peacefully, thank you very much.
And 3:10 to Yuma is a great film, reminiscent of the great Westerns of old.
The FRONT PAGE HEADLINE of the news announced that the Detroit Shock had won a game. Granted, it was a playoff-championship game: but the FRONT PAGE HEADLINE?
Honestly, I don't care about the WNBA, and I don't know anyone who does. But still, the media tries to cram it in our faces that the WNBA exists. It's a form of journalistic rape. We've said, "NO!," but they keep pressing us, trying to make us interested in it.
It's like with soccer. Apparently, we're all screwed up in this country because we don't enjoy watching soccer. They love it in Europe, so we need to love it over here.
Hey newsmen, here's some (apparently) news for you.
The WNBA is lame. We don't care about it. Give us real front page stories.
Soccer is lame. We don't care about it. Tell David Beckham that he can take a hike.
All of this forcing WNBA and soccer down our throats is equivalent to prison sodomy (well, then I guess forcing it "down our throats" was incorrect phraseology). We don't want it, and just because the media has the power to force it on us doesn't mean that they should. Let me do my time peacefully, thank you very much.
And 3:10 to Yuma is a great film, reminiscent of the great Westerns of old.
Friday, September 07, 2007
Another Kid in Pre-School
My eldest son started pre-school this week. I asked him if he was ready to start school, and he said "No, I'm not going to schoo."
"But you have to go to school," I said. "Besides, you'll make lots of friends!"
"I will kick their butts," he replied.
"Not if you don't want to get in very big trouble," I warned.
To which he again asserted, "I'm not going to schoo!"
Well the day arrived, and my wife and I were a bit worried over how he'd do. However, he went, and he had a good time.
"How was school?" I asked.
"Good," he said with a smile. "I didn't kick any butts!"
I remember setting the bar much higher for his sister, but for now, we'll go with this for him because if he does decide to kick some butts, he'll really beat the hell out of those other kids. He's the toughest little guy that I've ever seen.
P.S. I think that he acquired the idea of going to school and kicking butts from a Spongebob Squarepants episode (the one in which Flats, the flounder, warns Spongebob that he's going to kick Spongebob's butt).
"But you have to go to school," I said. "Besides, you'll make lots of friends!"
"I will kick their butts," he replied.
"Not if you don't want to get in very big trouble," I warned.
To which he again asserted, "I'm not going to schoo!"
Well the day arrived, and my wife and I were a bit worried over how he'd do. However, he went, and he had a good time.
"How was school?" I asked.
"Good," he said with a smile. "I didn't kick any butts!"
I remember setting the bar much higher for his sister, but for now, we'll go with this for him because if he does decide to kick some butts, he'll really beat the hell out of those other kids. He's the toughest little guy that I've ever seen.
P.S. I think that he acquired the idea of going to school and kicking butts from a Spongebob Squarepants episode (the one in which Flats, the flounder, warns Spongebob that he's going to kick Spongebob's butt).
JIM CROCE
I never tire of listening to Croce. If this song means nothing to you now, then it will some day.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Football Season Approaches!
The best part about this year's American/real football season is that we can finally stop hearing about David Beckham and how he's supposed to make us Americans forget that soccer is lame.
Elvis Presley Sings Nirvana come as you are
I believe that this guy is an Irishman. Whatever the case, he's an outstanding Elvis impersonator. I also admire the idea of taking a modern song and imagining how Elvis would have sang it.
Lawdy Miss Clawdy
Pay attention to this one.
This is a clip from Elvis's 1968 Comeback Special--even today it's still one of the top rated television programs in history.
Does the setting remind you of anything? How about MTV Unplugged?--except cooler, yes, even better than Nirvana's Unplugged album, and that was awesome.
Elvis Presley - Jailhouse Rock (Music Video)
The King of Rock; the King of Cool.
Hey kids, this clip from the motion picture "Jailhouse Rock" is considered by many to be one of the first "music videos." I believe the Ricky Nelson also did what you might call "music videos" while on "Ozzie and Harriet," but I haven't got the dates for those, and they weren't this stinking awesome.
Monday, September 03, 2007
Johnny Cash
There simply aren't many who can top Cash. I was negative seventeen when this aired, but Golf Guy was probably six.
The Astronaut Farmer--See It
It's not the best picture of the year, but it's something that you ought to see nonetheless.
The Astronaut Farmer, starring Billy Bob Thorton is awesome.
Perhaps there are some of you who think that Michael Moore is able to throw out a massive middle fingered FU to president Bush.
Well I am here to tell you that the producers of The Astronaut Farmer sent out a giant FU not only to the US Government (in the form of the FAA) but to all governments that serve only to hold men (and women--lest I choose to anger a loyal reader twice in a week) below his or her full potential. My favorite part was when the head of the FAA announced that Billy Bob's character had not (when in fact he had) launched into orbit. Then again, that's what government's do. They lie.
That's why my second favorite part was when the federal inquisition asked "How do we know that you're not building a WMD?" And Billy Bob answered, "Because if I was building a WMB, then you wouldn't find it" (or words to that effect).
Critics who wish to disregard the value of The Astronaut Farmer because it is fictional must be willing to reject any other fictional story (like the one how Lincoln freed the slaves--you do realize that the Emancipation Proclamation freed only those slaves held in rebel territory, and that slaves held in union--i.e. Lincoln territory remained slaves).
The Astronaut Farmer, starring Billy Bob Thorton is awesome.
Perhaps there are some of you who think that Michael Moore is able to throw out a massive middle fingered FU to president Bush.
Well I am here to tell you that the producers of The Astronaut Farmer sent out a giant FU not only to the US Government (in the form of the FAA) but to all governments that serve only to hold men (and women--lest I choose to anger a loyal reader twice in a week) below his or her full potential. My favorite part was when the head of the FAA announced that Billy Bob's character had not (when in fact he had) launched into orbit. Then again, that's what government's do. They lie.
That's why my second favorite part was when the federal inquisition asked "How do we know that you're not building a WMD?" And Billy Bob answered, "Because if I was building a WMB, then you wouldn't find it" (or words to that effect).
Critics who wish to disregard the value of The Astronaut Farmer because it is fictional must be willing to reject any other fictional story (like the one how Lincoln freed the slaves--you do realize that the Emancipation Proclamation freed only those slaves held in rebel territory, and that slaves held in union--i.e. Lincoln territory remained slaves).
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Friday, August 31, 2007
Dianaphelia
Let's get back to what I hate. I hate all this mushy nonsense that marks the ten year anniversary of Princess Diana's demise.
Honestly, I've never come to grips with the significance of her celebrity. When I mentioned this to my wife, she ignorantly proclaimed, "It's also the 30 year mark of Elvis's death, so why don't you complain about that?"
My goodness, I married a silly woman.
Elvis Presley changed things, the kinds of things that we take for granted. Again, my wife says, "Diana led causes too." But that's half of my point. First of all, Elvis wasn't about "causes." He was about himself and his talent for music, a passion that truly changed the world. What was Diana about? According to my wife, Diana worked extensively to eradicate the world of landmines.
Hmm.
By "worked extensively," what exactly is meant? Did she actually go to minefields and start digging them up and dismantaling them, or did she merely speak out against them and pose for a few photo-ops with leaders from countries who would like to have old landmines from old wars removed at the expense of the taxpayers or philanthropists of some other country?
I'm not saying that the awful consequences of post-war landmines are not tragic or even a concern for caring people with the means to donate personal funds voluntarily toward landmine removal. What I'm saying is that Diana did not change the world with her "work," and all this ado regarding the anniversary of her death is ridiculous.
When was the last time that you commemorated Thomas Edison's, Henry Ford's, Plato's, or Andrew Carnegie's deaths? These are just a few names who did far, far more to improve the quality of human life.
Honestly, I've never come to grips with the significance of her celebrity. When I mentioned this to my wife, she ignorantly proclaimed, "It's also the 30 year mark of Elvis's death, so why don't you complain about that?"
My goodness, I married a silly woman.
Elvis Presley changed things, the kinds of things that we take for granted. Again, my wife says, "Diana led causes too." But that's half of my point. First of all, Elvis wasn't about "causes." He was about himself and his talent for music, a passion that truly changed the world. What was Diana about? According to my wife, Diana worked extensively to eradicate the world of landmines.
Hmm.
By "worked extensively," what exactly is meant? Did she actually go to minefields and start digging them up and dismantaling them, or did she merely speak out against them and pose for a few photo-ops with leaders from countries who would like to have old landmines from old wars removed at the expense of the taxpayers or philanthropists of some other country?
I'm not saying that the awful consequences of post-war landmines are not tragic or even a concern for caring people with the means to donate personal funds voluntarily toward landmine removal. What I'm saying is that Diana did not change the world with her "work," and all this ado regarding the anniversary of her death is ridiculous.
When was the last time that you commemorated Thomas Edison's, Henry Ford's, Plato's, or Andrew Carnegie's deaths? These are just a few names who did far, far more to improve the quality of human life.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Ramble On
Today's thought is based upon some scratchings I recently uncovered on a loose leaf sheet of paper. It looks like it might come from some my my old college work.
We often base religious arguments on deductions from scripture. We arge that
1. God inspired the Bible.
2. God does not lie.
3. Therefore, the Bible is without error.
The conclusion, however, is not necessarily sound, for it falsely equivocates errors with lies. Consider also that the first premise of the argument is that God inspired the Bible. That means that God Himself did not write it, but that the Holy Spirit directed his prophets to do so. This means that the Bible was written by men, and men are not immune to error--even when they are being truthful to the best of their abilities.
Take the situation at the Battle of Jericho. The Biblical author writes that the Sun stood still in the sky while Joshua's army "avenged themselves upon their enemies" (Joshua 10:13). A strict interpretation of the Bible (and it was this interpretation that led Copernicus to fear releasing his heliocentric theory, and the one that was used to threaten Galileo's life) suggests that the Sun must revolve around the Earth, for if it says in Joshua that "the sun stood still" then it must normally move.
However, a more rational approach to the issue reveals that the Biblical writer simply recorded what he observed. To us humans, it appears that the Sun revolves around the Earth from east to west. When the miracle occurred, it therefore seemed that the Sun stood still. If anything stood still, it was the Earth on its axis because the Sun doesn't move.
In Joshua 10:13, the Bible is therefore innaccurate--to a degree. But it's not a degree worth getting excited about. Too many Christians (and believers of other religions) assume some kind of slippery-slope worst-case scenario when something in their holy scriptures is criticized. Just because the author of Joshua erred minorly does not mean that everything in the Bible is false. All it means is that Joshua's author did not know that it's the Earth that moves. He wrote what he saw, and what he wrote was as truthful as we can expect.
Ironically, many Christian fundamentalists who interpret everything in the Bible literally still cut and paste to their whims. Many denominations preach against the consumption of alchohol, even though Jesus's first recorded miracle was at a wedding, during which he turned water into wine. In Ecclesiastes 8:15, Solomon writes that "there is nothing good under the sun except to eat, to drink and to be merry." And let us not forget that when the booze ran out, Jesus's first miracle, at the wedding in Cana, was to turn water into wine (John 2:1-11). Furthermore, most fundamentalists do not believe in transubstantiation--that, during Communion, wine and bread become the blood and body of Christ--even though Jesus minced no words when he said, "This is my body. . . This is my blood. . . Do this in remembrance of me." Some churches, on the rare occasions when they celebrate the eucharist, even substitute the wine with mere grape juice. What kind of arrogance is this, to assume that drinking wine would be wrong, even though that's what Jesus did and said to do?
On a completely different note, the current diagnosis of my computer problem is that it's the motherboard. I can think of a word to put right in the middle of that...
We often base religious arguments on deductions from scripture. We arge that
1. God inspired the Bible.
2. God does not lie.
3. Therefore, the Bible is without error.
The conclusion, however, is not necessarily sound, for it falsely equivocates errors with lies. Consider also that the first premise of the argument is that God inspired the Bible. That means that God Himself did not write it, but that the Holy Spirit directed his prophets to do so. This means that the Bible was written by men, and men are not immune to error--even when they are being truthful to the best of their abilities.
Take the situation at the Battle of Jericho. The Biblical author writes that the Sun stood still in the sky while Joshua's army "avenged themselves upon their enemies" (Joshua 10:13). A strict interpretation of the Bible (and it was this interpretation that led Copernicus to fear releasing his heliocentric theory, and the one that was used to threaten Galileo's life) suggests that the Sun must revolve around the Earth, for if it says in Joshua that "the sun stood still" then it must normally move.
However, a more rational approach to the issue reveals that the Biblical writer simply recorded what he observed. To us humans, it appears that the Sun revolves around the Earth from east to west. When the miracle occurred, it therefore seemed that the Sun stood still. If anything stood still, it was the Earth on its axis because the Sun doesn't move.
In Joshua 10:13, the Bible is therefore innaccurate--to a degree. But it's not a degree worth getting excited about. Too many Christians (and believers of other religions) assume some kind of slippery-slope worst-case scenario when something in their holy scriptures is criticized. Just because the author of Joshua erred minorly does not mean that everything in the Bible is false. All it means is that Joshua's author did not know that it's the Earth that moves. He wrote what he saw, and what he wrote was as truthful as we can expect.
Ironically, many Christian fundamentalists who interpret everything in the Bible literally still cut and paste to their whims. Many denominations preach against the consumption of alchohol, even though Jesus's first recorded miracle was at a wedding, during which he turned water into wine. In Ecclesiastes 8:15, Solomon writes that "there is nothing good under the sun except to eat, to drink and to be merry." And let us not forget that when the booze ran out, Jesus's first miracle, at the wedding in Cana, was to turn water into wine (John 2:1-11). Furthermore, most fundamentalists do not believe in transubstantiation--that, during Communion, wine and bread become the blood and body of Christ--even though Jesus minced no words when he said, "This is my body. . . This is my blood. . . Do this in remembrance of me." Some churches, on the rare occasions when they celebrate the eucharist, even substitute the wine with mere grape juice. What kind of arrogance is this, to assume that drinking wine would be wrong, even though that's what Jesus did and said to do?
On a completely different note, the current diagnosis of my computer problem is that it's the motherboard. I can think of a word to put right in the middle of that...
Monday, August 27, 2007
Coffee Blues
The latest study suggests that coffee consumption may contribute to hypertension (i.e. high blood pressure). Another recent study suggests that coffee consumption may prevent Parkinson's Disease.
So I can quit drinking coffee and avoid an increased risk of hypertension, but have to deal with 1.) nevermore enjoying the taste of the heavenly brew, 2.) having a harder time in the morning, and 3.) apparently having a higher risk of Parkinson's.
Or, I can keep drinking coffee and merely risk hypertension.
I'm not scoffing at hypertension, but compared to Parkinson's, I'll take a relatively quick heart attack.
Also, in case you don't remember, this site used to be called "What I Hate." It is now called "What I Think," but I still hate a lot of things. Here's a random list of things that I hate.
1.) When someone uses all of the toilet paper, and I'm left sitting there, looking at either the bath towel or the shower curtain as my only options.
2.) Al Gore
3.) Socialism (a.k.a. Communism, Leftism, the Democratic Party)
4.) Government (i.e. the legal mafia) in general; the coercive powers of government in particular).
5.) Movies starring Keanu Reeves (exception: The Matrix)
6.) Paying taxes to a government that does not represent me because I did not vote for a single one of the janks who presume to rule over me.
7.) When Kevin, who always has an inferior fantasy football team, beats me in the first round of the playoffs.
8.) When Kevin smugly reminds me that he beat me in the first round of the playoffs.
9.) When obviously overpaid and under qualified workers complain that foreigners are taking their jobs because they'll work for less money.
10.) That Tony Danza played the Ukulele on the Late Late Show (the one hosted by the guy who played Drew Carey's boss on The Drew Carey Show): Jake Shimabukuro and I have dedicated our lives to demonstrating that the Uke is a serious instrument (sure, Jake has done a better job of it, but that's not the issue), just so Danza can strum it like some brain-dead idiot and reinforce the popular belief that the Uke is just a toy guitar.
So I can quit drinking coffee and avoid an increased risk of hypertension, but have to deal with 1.) nevermore enjoying the taste of the heavenly brew, 2.) having a harder time in the morning, and 3.) apparently having a higher risk of Parkinson's.
Or, I can keep drinking coffee and merely risk hypertension.
I'm not scoffing at hypertension, but compared to Parkinson's, I'll take a relatively quick heart attack.
Also, in case you don't remember, this site used to be called "What I Hate." It is now called "What I Think," but I still hate a lot of things. Here's a random list of things that I hate.
1.) When someone uses all of the toilet paper, and I'm left sitting there, looking at either the bath towel or the shower curtain as my only options.
2.) Al Gore
3.) Socialism (a.k.a. Communism, Leftism, the Democratic Party)
4.) Government (i.e. the legal mafia) in general; the coercive powers of government in particular).
5.) Movies starring Keanu Reeves (exception: The Matrix)
6.) Paying taxes to a government that does not represent me because I did not vote for a single one of the janks who presume to rule over me.
7.) When Kevin, who always has an inferior fantasy football team, beats me in the first round of the playoffs.
8.) When Kevin smugly reminds me that he beat me in the first round of the playoffs.
9.) When obviously overpaid and under qualified workers complain that foreigners are taking their jobs because they'll work for less money.
10.) That Tony Danza played the Ukulele on the Late Late Show (the one hosted by the guy who played Drew Carey's boss on The Drew Carey Show): Jake Shimabukuro and I have dedicated our lives to demonstrating that the Uke is a serious instrument (sure, Jake has done a better job of it, but that's not the issue), just so Danza can strum it like some brain-dead idiot and reinforce the popular belief that the Uke is just a toy guitar.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Some Arguments that Annoy Me
I love to debate. It's good fun, especially with a knowledgeable and clever opponent. Rarely, however, do I encounter a knowledgeable and clever adversary. Much of the time, my knowledgeable foes are not clever, or my clever antagonists are not knowledgeable. Too often, my challenger is neither (as is usually the case with democrats--and if you take that to be a shot in favor of republicans, then you haven't been reading much of this blog).
The following list is of the usual responses when my less than able sparring partners realize that they have been backed into a corner.
1.) "Who's to say?" What I find objectionable about this less than witty retort is that it's really a red herring. The issue is not who's saying what; it's what's being said that matters. Whenever someone comes back from one of your major points with this one, you should know that you've got him or her on the ropes.
2.) "You think what you want, and I'll think what I want." At this point, your opponent has basically surrendered and is asking for generous terms. Now is the time to be General Grant. Offer no terms except for unconditional surrender, and remind him or her that you propose to move upon his or her works immediately (read some narrative history on the engagement at Fort Donelson in 1862 if you don't get this one). Once pressed further, your opponent is likely to suggest that it isn't worth arguing anymore because you are too stubborn to see his or her point. Again, this is a point to you, for you've now forced your adversary into relying upon ad hominem rebuttals. What they really mean to say (but won't, for pride stands in the way) is, "I cannot logically reject your argument, so I am backing off in an orderly fashion before this argument turns into a rout.
3. "You see things in black and white, but the world is painted in shades of gray." This argument starts off first with an absurd metaphor. Of course the world isn't painted in black and white, but it isn't painted in gray either. In fact, the world isn't painted at all. What your opponent is really saying here is something akin to "There are no absolutes" or "There is no such thing as right or wrong," or "Everything is relative." There are some major logical problems with this position.
First of all, you can't say that there are no absolutes. It's an autophagic argument (i.e. it destroys itself), for to assert that there are no absolutes is to make an absolute statement.
Second, you can't say that there is no such thing as right or wrong and be right about it, for if you're right, then the statement is false (since nothing is right).
Third, you can't say that everything is relative. If everything is relative, then the assertion that everything is relative is merely relative. This means, in fact, that there are absolutes. Therefore, everything is not relative. Questions of good and evil, elements of logic and moral principles cannot be relative. Of course, some things are relative: I like pizzas with lots of cheese, pepperoni, sausage, onions, green peppers, black olives, and mushrooms. My wife, on the other hand, prefers cheese and pepperoni. That's a relative issue because it's really about little more than taste preferences. It's a relative issue to argue if green peppers taste good. Whether or not green peppers have vitamins is not a relative issue. Even if you think that green peppers taste like elephant feces (by the way, how do you know what pachyderm poop tastes like?), you cannot say that green peppers don't have vitamins. Something like whether or not abortion should be legal is not relative. You might wish that abortion was OK, but that doesn't make it so.
Also, your opponent, if he or she relies upon tricks instead of reason, may resort to other techniques. For one, they may appeal to popularity (ad populum): well Michigan voters have spoken, and gay couples should not be allowed to marry or enjoy the legal benefits of marriage. Does this mean that an anti-Semitic majority that wishes to harm Jews is right? As far as I can observe, a majority proves only the ignorance or maliciousness of the masses. Seriously, if marriage is a religious act, then the law (as brought down by the state) ought to have none of it.
Then again, your enemy may wish to make you tremble in your boots. These are the kind who constantly tell you how crucial the issue of global warming is. If you for one second think, "Hey, hasn't the globe been warming naturally for tens of thousands of years since the last Ice Age?" then these people will thwart you by warnings that you and your children and your grand children and your great-grandchildren etc. will die. Since your really not dumb enough to fall into this trap, they'll make you feel sorry for penguins and polar bears (seriously, there's a conspiracy to make you feel bad for arctic and antarctic wildlife because deep inside you know that their predictions of what will happen to people is a load of BS). The fact that they resort to making you (and especially your children) simply sympathize with arctic/antarctic wildlife should be enough to make you see through their weak arguments.
There are more, but it's late, and I'm tired.
The following list is of the usual responses when my less than able sparring partners realize that they have been backed into a corner.
1.) "Who's to say?" What I find objectionable about this less than witty retort is that it's really a red herring. The issue is not who's saying what; it's what's being said that matters. Whenever someone comes back from one of your major points with this one, you should know that you've got him or her on the ropes.
2.) "You think what you want, and I'll think what I want." At this point, your opponent has basically surrendered and is asking for generous terms. Now is the time to be General Grant. Offer no terms except for unconditional surrender, and remind him or her that you propose to move upon his or her works immediately (read some narrative history on the engagement at Fort Donelson in 1862 if you don't get this one). Once pressed further, your opponent is likely to suggest that it isn't worth arguing anymore because you are too stubborn to see his or her point. Again, this is a point to you, for you've now forced your adversary into relying upon ad hominem rebuttals. What they really mean to say (but won't, for pride stands in the way) is, "I cannot logically reject your argument, so I am backing off in an orderly fashion before this argument turns into a rout.
3. "You see things in black and white, but the world is painted in shades of gray." This argument starts off first with an absurd metaphor. Of course the world isn't painted in black and white, but it isn't painted in gray either. In fact, the world isn't painted at all. What your opponent is really saying here is something akin to "There are no absolutes" or "There is no such thing as right or wrong," or "Everything is relative." There are some major logical problems with this position.
First of all, you can't say that there are no absolutes. It's an autophagic argument (i.e. it destroys itself), for to assert that there are no absolutes is to make an absolute statement.
Second, you can't say that there is no such thing as right or wrong and be right about it, for if you're right, then the statement is false (since nothing is right).
Third, you can't say that everything is relative. If everything is relative, then the assertion that everything is relative is merely relative. This means, in fact, that there are absolutes. Therefore, everything is not relative. Questions of good and evil, elements of logic and moral principles cannot be relative. Of course, some things are relative: I like pizzas with lots of cheese, pepperoni, sausage, onions, green peppers, black olives, and mushrooms. My wife, on the other hand, prefers cheese and pepperoni. That's a relative issue because it's really about little more than taste preferences. It's a relative issue to argue if green peppers taste good. Whether or not green peppers have vitamins is not a relative issue. Even if you think that green peppers taste like elephant feces (by the way, how do you know what pachyderm poop tastes like?), you cannot say that green peppers don't have vitamins. Something like whether or not abortion should be legal is not relative. You might wish that abortion was OK, but that doesn't make it so.
Also, your opponent, if he or she relies upon tricks instead of reason, may resort to other techniques. For one, they may appeal to popularity (ad populum): well Michigan voters have spoken, and gay couples should not be allowed to marry or enjoy the legal benefits of marriage. Does this mean that an anti-Semitic majority that wishes to harm Jews is right? As far as I can observe, a majority proves only the ignorance or maliciousness of the masses. Seriously, if marriage is a religious act, then the law (as brought down by the state) ought to have none of it.
Then again, your enemy may wish to make you tremble in your boots. These are the kind who constantly tell you how crucial the issue of global warming is. If you for one second think, "Hey, hasn't the globe been warming naturally for tens of thousands of years since the last Ice Age?" then these people will thwart you by warnings that you and your children and your grand children and your great-grandchildren etc. will die. Since your really not dumb enough to fall into this trap, they'll make you feel sorry for penguins and polar bears (seriously, there's a conspiracy to make you feel bad for arctic and antarctic wildlife because deep inside you know that their predictions of what will happen to people is a load of BS). The fact that they resort to making you (and especially your children) simply sympathize with arctic/antarctic wildlife should be enough to make you see through their weak arguments.
There are more, but it's late, and I'm tired.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Fantasy Football Season Is Coming!
Here's the roster for one of my new Fantasy Football leagues. In this league, we kept one player from last season (he is indicated by an *). I thought I drafted well, considering that there are twelve teams in the league, and that means that a lot of the talent gets snatched up pretty quickly.
QB: John Kitna (starter), Alex Smith, Brett Favre
RB: Frank Gore* (starter), Rudi Johnson (starter), Jamal Lewis,
WR: Larry Fitzgerald (starter), Javon Walker (starter), Braylon Edwards, Muhsin Muhammad
TE: Chris Cooley (starter), Daniel Owens
K: David Akers (starter), John Kasey
D/ST: Cowboys (starter), Raiders
In my other league (ten teams in this league), I was able to keep six players. I kept
QB: Peyton Manning
RB: Larry Johnson, Rudi Johnson
WR: Steve Smith
TE: Tony Gonzales
D/ST: Bears
I traded Plaxico Buress (WR) for a first round pick, so I have the fourth and the eighth picks of the first round.
QB: John Kitna (starter), Alex Smith, Brett Favre
RB: Frank Gore* (starter), Rudi Johnson (starter), Jamal Lewis,
WR: Larry Fitzgerald (starter), Javon Walker (starter), Braylon Edwards, Muhsin Muhammad
TE: Chris Cooley (starter), Daniel Owens
K: David Akers (starter), John Kasey
D/ST: Cowboys (starter), Raiders
In my other league (ten teams in this league), I was able to keep six players. I kept
QB: Peyton Manning
RB: Larry Johnson, Rudi Johnson
WR: Steve Smith
TE: Tony Gonzales
D/ST: Bears
I traded Plaxico Buress (WR) for a first round pick, so I have the fourth and the eighth picks of the first round.
Stupid Computer
My computer is acting up again, and worse than ever before. In so many ways, this computer (not the one that I'm actually using, but the one that's on the fritz) has been the best that I've ever had. In other ways, however, it's been a huge mess.
It's pretty much conclusive. I'm done with PCs. If it's not a Windows problem, then its a hardware problem. The only thing left is an act of God (who knows what might happen--I've said, "God damn this computer" so many times that He might just do it).
Once I've scraped together enough money, I'm going Mac, and I'm not turning back. Sure, Macs aren't impervious to problems, but a.) they don't use Windows, and b.) their hardware is much more reliable. c.) They appeal better to the eye, and d.) becoming a Mac owner will help me enjoy those "Hello, I'm a PC; Hi, I'm a Mac" commercials a lot more.
It's pretty much conclusive. I'm done with PCs. If it's not a Windows problem, then its a hardware problem. The only thing left is an act of God (who knows what might happen--I've said, "God damn this computer" so many times that He might just do it).
Once I've scraped together enough money, I'm going Mac, and I'm not turning back. Sure, Macs aren't impervious to problems, but a.) they don't use Windows, and b.) their hardware is much more reliable. c.) They appeal better to the eye, and d.) becoming a Mac owner will help me enjoy those "Hello, I'm a PC; Hi, I'm a Mac" commercials a lot more.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Holy Fart, Batman!
Pardon me. You may not wish to know this, but after yesterday's Hamburger Helper and today's very cheesy pizza, if farting were a crime, then I'd be sentenced to death.
However, the worst fart on record is still held by my good friend Jeff P.
However, the worst fart on record is still held by my good friend Jeff P.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Pointless Comment
For no good reason at all--heck, I haven't even heard it in months--the song "Scotch and Soda" by The Kingston Trio has been stuck in my head all day.
I just picked it out on my ukulele. In a word, it's delightful.
I just picked it out on my ukulele. In a word, it's delightful.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Keep Scrolling for Some Pics!
Forgive the indulgence on my part, but here are a few pics of my little ones.
The pictures are posted with permission from Pamela Heckel Photography. Not only is she a close, personal friend and a Hillsdale College graduate, she is a genius behind the camera. She operates out of Allen, Michigan, and is an outstanding professional. If you are ever in southern Michigan, especially the Allen, Quincy, Hillsdale, Jonesville, Litchfield areas, schedule an appointment with her!
Ironic Songs
In 1958, Bobby Darin recorded what Frank Sinatra called "the definitive version" of "Mack the Knife." It's an upbeat tune that really swings. The irony is that it's a song about a cold-blooded killer.
In a similar irony, The Beatles's "Maxwell's Silver Hammer" sounds like a delightful children's tune.
In a similar irony, The Beatles's "Maxwell's Silver Hammer" sounds like a delightful children's tune.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Orson Scott Card and Islam
Earlier, I posted my fondness for Orson Scott Card's Ender's Game. Well, since then I have devoured the sequels and companion novels, enjoying all of them and wishing for more.
In Shadow of the Giant, Card makes a fine point about radical Islam. He says that Islam cannot be a legitimate religion until it recognizes peoples' rights to disbelieve and until it allows lapsed Muslims (i.e. people who leave Islam) to go freely and without harm. Until then, it is a tyranny. In a nutshell, he suggests that Islam ought to embrace the idea of separation of Church and State--that a religious offense is not punishable by violence (i.e. intimidation, fines, incarceration, torture, execution).
I can already hear the critics say that Islam already does this, that it is a religion of peace; but come on, who's kidding whom?
Show me the Islamic state with a good record on human rights in general, and the rights of religious minorities specifically.
Read some history. Islam spread via the sword, and it stays because of the sword.
Of course there are many Muslims who disagree and say that their brethren who so speak and behave are in a minority, but what they really mean is that such people are in a minority in the West. Where they are not in the minority, they rule with an iron fist. Look at the fatwah against Salman Rushdie.
By the way, just in case any half-wit reads this and figures that I'm saying something ridiculous like, "All Muslims are terrorists," re-read what I said, for I said no such thing. What I said is that presently, Islam--as it pours from the Middle East as it has for over a millenium--is aggressive, expansionistic, and imperialistic. Many nations have been this way in the past and changed. As Card points out, Islam is perfectly capable of changing too. Doing so will not dilute its theology, but will instead make it a rational religion that seeks members because they believe, not because they are frightened.
Now a truly astute critic will say that Christianity has just as much blood on its hands as Islam, and such a critic is probably (though I really mean absolutely) right.
However, Christianity long ago rejected the notion that men and women could (and should) be forced into the religion. Historically, Christianity must answer for much (e.g. the inquisition and the witch hunts in Europe and the American colonies).
Such an astute critic ought to see that the problem for both religions centers on the issue of Church and State. In the inquisition and the witch hunts, the coercive powers of the State were put to use for "religious" purposes. Only once predominantly Christian nations began to draw the line between crimes against God and crimes against society (i.e. harming the life, liberty, or property of others), did Christianity once again became a peaceful religion.
Yes, Christianity has blood on its hands, but it has long since coagulated. The blood on Islam's hands is still fresh.
In Shadow of the Giant, Card makes a fine point about radical Islam. He says that Islam cannot be a legitimate religion until it recognizes peoples' rights to disbelieve and until it allows lapsed Muslims (i.e. people who leave Islam) to go freely and without harm. Until then, it is a tyranny. In a nutshell, he suggests that Islam ought to embrace the idea of separation of Church and State--that a religious offense is not punishable by violence (i.e. intimidation, fines, incarceration, torture, execution).
I can already hear the critics say that Islam already does this, that it is a religion of peace; but come on, who's kidding whom?
Show me the Islamic state with a good record on human rights in general, and the rights of religious minorities specifically.
Read some history. Islam spread via the sword, and it stays because of the sword.
Of course there are many Muslims who disagree and say that their brethren who so speak and behave are in a minority, but what they really mean is that such people are in a minority in the West. Where they are not in the minority, they rule with an iron fist. Look at the fatwah against Salman Rushdie.
By the way, just in case any half-wit reads this and figures that I'm saying something ridiculous like, "All Muslims are terrorists," re-read what I said, for I said no such thing. What I said is that presently, Islam--as it pours from the Middle East as it has for over a millenium--is aggressive, expansionistic, and imperialistic. Many nations have been this way in the past and changed. As Card points out, Islam is perfectly capable of changing too. Doing so will not dilute its theology, but will instead make it a rational religion that seeks members because they believe, not because they are frightened.
Now a truly astute critic will say that Christianity has just as much blood on its hands as Islam, and such a critic is probably (though I really mean absolutely) right.
However, Christianity long ago rejected the notion that men and women could (and should) be forced into the religion. Historically, Christianity must answer for much (e.g. the inquisition and the witch hunts in Europe and the American colonies).
Such an astute critic ought to see that the problem for both religions centers on the issue of Church and State. In the inquisition and the witch hunts, the coercive powers of the State were put to use for "religious" purposes. Only once predominantly Christian nations began to draw the line between crimes against God and crimes against society (i.e. harming the life, liberty, or property of others), did Christianity once again became a peaceful religion.
Yes, Christianity has blood on its hands, but it has long since coagulated. The blood on Islam's hands is still fresh.
Miniver Cheevy
Miniver Cheevy, child of scorn,
Grew lean while he assailed the seasons.
He wept that he was ever born,
And he had reasons.
Miniver loved the days of old
When swords were bright and steeds were prancing;
The vision of a warrior bold
Would send him dancing.
Miniver sighed for what was not,
And dreamed, and rested from his labors;
He dreamed of Thebes and Camelot,
And Priam's neighbors.
Miniver mourned the ripe renown
That made so many a name so fragrant;
He mourned Romance, now on the town,
And Art, a vagrant.
Miniver loved the Medici,
Albeit he had never seen one;
He would have sinned incessantly
Could he have been one.
Miniver cursed the commonplace
And eyed a khaki suit with loathing;
He missed the medieval grace
Of iron clothing.
Miniver scorned the gold he sought,
But sore annoyed was he without it;
Miniver thought, and thought, and thought,
And thought about it.
Miniver Cheevy, born too late,
Scratched his head and kept on thinking;
Miniver coughed, and called it fate,
And kept on drinking.
--Edwin Arlington Robinson
Grew lean while he assailed the seasons.
He wept that he was ever born,
And he had reasons.
Miniver loved the days of old
When swords were bright and steeds were prancing;
The vision of a warrior bold
Would send him dancing.
Miniver sighed for what was not,
And dreamed, and rested from his labors;
He dreamed of Thebes and Camelot,
And Priam's neighbors.
Miniver mourned the ripe renown
That made so many a name so fragrant;
He mourned Romance, now on the town,
And Art, a vagrant.
Miniver loved the Medici,
Albeit he had never seen one;
He would have sinned incessantly
Could he have been one.
Miniver cursed the commonplace
And eyed a khaki suit with loathing;
He missed the medieval grace
Of iron clothing.
Miniver scorned the gold he sought,
But sore annoyed was he without it;
Miniver thought, and thought, and thought,
And thought about it.
Miniver Cheevy, born too late,
Scratched his head and kept on thinking;
Miniver coughed, and called it fate,
And kept on drinking.
--Edwin Arlington Robinson
Sunday, August 12, 2007
I Coulda Been a Contender
There's a lot of sentimental crap that comes out in movies. Watch Titanic if you don't believe me. Most of these stories involve rather flat characters and what I will call "forced" dialogue (again, see Titanic).
However, there are some times when a dialogue flows naturally from a well developed character, and it is in these times that we can discover insight into the human condition.
Take for instance the scene in On the Waterfront, when Martin Brando's character, Terry, says to his brother, (who had forced him to take a dive in his big fight--his one chance at the title):
"You don't understand. I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am, let's face it."
This line has been replicated in many forms and parodied in its exact form. Even without the backdrop to the story, it means something to all of us. The idea that we "coulda" done something great, but we (for whatever reason) decided against it and took the easy (i.e. fast money--as Charlie reminds Terry) way out.
Perhaps I am out of line, or only speaking for myself, to suggest that we in the middle lament that if we had stood tall, ignored those pressuring us, dug in, and fought for ourselves alone, then we could have been more than we are.
There are times when I sit and sigh, for I do believe that "I coulda been a contender." There's still time, I suppose, but time is relative in more ways than Einstein imagined. While it creeps so unbearably slowly in your first twenty years, the remaining years seem to slip through your fingers like a heap of sand.
Then again, it's a load of crap. Terry chose to take the dive.
In the end, we all pocket our silver and reap the whirlwind. We sit in our cubicles and input data. We say, "Yes sir!" When we really should say, "What the hell are you thinking, sir?"
We sell ourselves short because it's so easy to be a "coulda been." It's harder actually to be, so we decide instead to hate such people and figure (dishonestly) that they simply had more opportunities.
The bottom line is that the contenders are there because they took the jabs and the hooks and kept their feet. Those who either couldn't keep their feet or took the dive for the short-term game belong in the middle or the bottom.
Either I need to sit my fat ass down and write the damn novel that's in my head, or I need to accept that I'll forever be just someone who "coulda been a contender" but decided not to be one.
At least I never paid a two-bit airline for a coke. Even if I did, I wouldn't decline my wife's bedside in lieu of a rant. You disappoint me, Murdock. Unlike you, I have never denied your wife...
However, there are some times when a dialogue flows naturally from a well developed character, and it is in these times that we can discover insight into the human condition.
Take for instance the scene in On the Waterfront, when Martin Brando's character, Terry, says to his brother, (who had forced him to take a dive in his big fight--his one chance at the title):
"You don't understand. I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am, let's face it."
This line has been replicated in many forms and parodied in its exact form. Even without the backdrop to the story, it means something to all of us. The idea that we "coulda" done something great, but we (for whatever reason) decided against it and took the easy (i.e. fast money--as Charlie reminds Terry) way out.
Perhaps I am out of line, or only speaking for myself, to suggest that we in the middle lament that if we had stood tall, ignored those pressuring us, dug in, and fought for ourselves alone, then we could have been more than we are.
There are times when I sit and sigh, for I do believe that "I coulda been a contender." There's still time, I suppose, but time is relative in more ways than Einstein imagined. While it creeps so unbearably slowly in your first twenty years, the remaining years seem to slip through your fingers like a heap of sand.
Then again, it's a load of crap. Terry chose to take the dive.
In the end, we all pocket our silver and reap the whirlwind. We sit in our cubicles and input data. We say, "Yes sir!" When we really should say, "What the hell are you thinking, sir?"
We sell ourselves short because it's so easy to be a "coulda been." It's harder actually to be, so we decide instead to hate such people and figure (dishonestly) that they simply had more opportunities.
The bottom line is that the contenders are there because they took the jabs and the hooks and kept their feet. Those who either couldn't keep their feet or took the dive for the short-term game belong in the middle or the bottom.
Either I need to sit my fat ass down and write the damn novel that's in my head, or I need to accept that I'll forever be just someone who "coulda been a contender" but decided not to be one.
At least I never paid a two-bit airline for a coke. Even if I did, I wouldn't decline my wife's bedside in lieu of a rant. You disappoint me, Murdock. Unlike you, I have never denied your wife...
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Barry Bonds
Barry Bonds is the most hollow man to break a hallowed record. Some defend him--for now--saying that until actual proof exists that he used steroids and other enhancements to help catapult him past Hank Aaron, we cannot render judgment against him.
But this is not the case.
The issue of "Who is the best slugger in baseball history" is not one bound by the law of innocent until proven guilty. It is thoroughly a matter of public, nay individual, opinion.
Hank Aaron acquired and held his record for so long because he was purely talented, not because he was juiced. That makes him better than Bonds.
What we can't do is throw Barry Bonds in jail. What we can't do (yet) is strip him of his current title.
However, as thinking beings we can deny him our adoration and label him as the scumbag that he is.
Just because Michael Jackson hasn't been convicted of the crimes for which he is suspected doesn't mean that I wouldn't be a madman to let my children stay with him and share his bed.
Just because O.J. Simpson walks freely does not mean that I should trust and consort with the likes of him.
Just because Al Capone was only found guilty of tax-evasion does not make him any less of a cold-blooded killer.
There comes a point when circumstantial evidence is so overwhelming that only a fool looks the other way. Barry Bonds deserves jeers, not cheers. He should go down in hisses, not history.
But this is not the case.
The issue of "Who is the best slugger in baseball history" is not one bound by the law of innocent until proven guilty. It is thoroughly a matter of public, nay individual, opinion.
Hank Aaron acquired and held his record for so long because he was purely talented, not because he was juiced. That makes him better than Bonds.
What we can't do is throw Barry Bonds in jail. What we can't do (yet) is strip him of his current title.
However, as thinking beings we can deny him our adoration and label him as the scumbag that he is.
Just because Michael Jackson hasn't been convicted of the crimes for which he is suspected doesn't mean that I wouldn't be a madman to let my children stay with him and share his bed.
Just because O.J. Simpson walks freely does not mean that I should trust and consort with the likes of him.
Just because Al Capone was only found guilty of tax-evasion does not make him any less of a cold-blooded killer.
There comes a point when circumstantial evidence is so overwhelming that only a fool looks the other way. Barry Bonds deserves jeers, not cheers. He should go down in hisses, not history.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Happy Birthday to Me
Hey, I just turned 31.
There are some who say that they stop counting after 29.
Those people are pathetic. Even if you refuse to count (which you don't really do anyway), the number doesn't change.
There are some who say that they stop counting after 29.
Those people are pathetic. Even if you refuse to count (which you don't really do anyway), the number doesn't change.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Readings (and re-readings this summer), an assigned letter grade, and a very brief comment.
I recommend all of these except for A People's History of the Civil War. If you like to read in the bathroom, then pick that one up because it can at least be useful for spare paper (but beware of paper cuts).
Speaker of the Dead, by Orson Scott Card (A-)--Rarely has a sequel been so different than the original, but still great reading.
Xenocide, by Orson Scott Card (B)--Good, but a bit slow in many parts.
Children of the Mind, by Orson Scott Card (B)--The ending could have been a bit more satisfying.
Ender's Shadow, by Orson Scott Card (A)--If you liked Ender's Game, then you MUST read this.
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, by J.K. Rowling (A)--My favorite of them all.
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, by J.K. Rowling (B+)--As good as the first, second, and fourth installments.
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, by J.K. Rowling (A-)--Tied with Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkeban as my second favorite of the series.
The Civil War: A Narrative volume 3, by Shelby Foote (A)--Almost perfect.
A People's History of The Civil War, by David Williams (D)--Great reading, if you're a socialist who doesn't really care about the truth. When are Marxists going to realize that dialectical materialism is a load of crap, and that poverty is not the result of economic injustice in a capitalist system?
Superstrings: A Theory of Everything?, by P. C. W. Davies and Julian Brown (B)--This is very handy to people who don't like when scientists publish only for other scientists. It's geared toward the curious amateur.
Speaker of the Dead, by Orson Scott Card (A-)--Rarely has a sequel been so different than the original, but still great reading.
Xenocide, by Orson Scott Card (B)--Good, but a bit slow in many parts.
Children of the Mind, by Orson Scott Card (B)--The ending could have been a bit more satisfying.
Ender's Shadow, by Orson Scott Card (A)--If you liked Ender's Game, then you MUST read this.
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, by J.K. Rowling (A)--My favorite of them all.
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, by J.K. Rowling (B+)--As good as the first, second, and fourth installments.
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, by J.K. Rowling (A-)--Tied with Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkeban as my second favorite of the series.
The Civil War: A Narrative volume 3, by Shelby Foote (A)--Almost perfect.
A People's History of The Civil War, by David Williams (D)--Great reading, if you're a socialist who doesn't really care about the truth. When are Marxists going to realize that dialectical materialism is a load of crap, and that poverty is not the result of economic injustice in a capitalist system?
Superstrings: A Theory of Everything?, by P. C. W. Davies and Julian Brown (B)--This is very handy to people who don't like when scientists publish only for other scientists. It's geared toward the curious amateur.
Saturday, August 04, 2007
Going to Africa
Mark wants to go to Africa. Specifically, he wants to go on a hunting safari. More specifically, he wants to shoot a lion.
"I'll tell you what, buddy," I said. "You get a full ride scholarship to college, and I'll take you hunting in Africa."
"Okay," He replied.
Unfortunately, he has no idea what college is, let alone a scholarship--remember, he just turned four--, so he had no idea that he had just made a deal with me that will take a full 14 years before it takes effect.
The poor kid thinks that we're going to Africa soon--really soon.
To wit, I was headed to the grocery store, and I figured that I'd bring Mark along.
"Mark," I called. "Get your shoes on and get in the car."
He came running with his shoes and a big smile on his face. "Are we going to Africa now?" He asked.
"Sorry, dude. We're just going to the store," I confessed. "We won't be able to go to Africa for a long time."
"Oh," he replied in a sinking tone to match his fading smile.
I decided on a compromise--I took him to the WalMart on 12 Mile road, but it wasn't enough to mend his broken heart.
Friday, August 03, 2007
No recent Posts
Just in case you're wondering why I haven't posted recently, there are two reasons.
One is that, since I'm married with three children, I haven't as much time to myself as I used to have.
The other is that the news sucks.
Lindsay Lohan is in and out of rehab and trouble?
She's about as much news as the fact that Budweiser makes me fart.
A government funded project (in this case a bridge in Minnesota that collapsed) failed?
There are times when I'm not sure if I shouldn't just go to the bathroom after a Budweiser (just to be on the safe side).
Hugo Chavez loves Sean Penn?
Idi Amin thought that Hitler was a great man.
That's our news, folks. And you wonder why I haven't posted much!
By the way, I just burped, and I tasted some of the White Castles that I ate over two hours ago.
Now that's news.
One is that, since I'm married with three children, I haven't as much time to myself as I used to have.
The other is that the news sucks.
Lindsay Lohan is in and out of rehab and trouble?
She's about as much news as the fact that Budweiser makes me fart.
A government funded project (in this case a bridge in Minnesota that collapsed) failed?
There are times when I'm not sure if I shouldn't just go to the bathroom after a Budweiser (just to be on the safe side).
Hugo Chavez loves Sean Penn?
Idi Amin thought that Hitler was a great man.
That's our news, folks. And you wonder why I haven't posted much!
By the way, I just burped, and I tasted some of the White Castles that I ate over two hours ago.
Now that's news.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
A Loosely Organized Rant
I complain about a lot, but I firmly believe that anyone should be able to do anything that does not harm the rights to life, liberty, or property of anyone else.
However, that doesn't mean that I cannot say that certain things that certain people do aren't just plain stupid.
There's a difference, you see, between that and what the neo-national socialist republicrats do and say. I say, "That's stupid." They say, "There should be a law against that."
It's not really such a fine line. There's a big difference between disapproving something and utilizing the coercive power of government against it.
To wit, if I don't like smoking in restaurants, then I will either not patronize restaurants that allow smoking, or I will begrudgingly go to one because I value the food above the tobacco haze.
Others, however, who dislike smoking in restaurants would seek to harness the violent power of the state to prohibit said practice.
Let's get this straight. Restaurants, bars, or any other businesses are not public. They are private. They are owned by a person or people, which makes them, by definition, not public. Public places would be defined as street corners, parks, or any buildings owned by government on any level.
As the owner of any establishment, any man or woman ought to be able on his or her own to decide whether or not to allow patrons to smoke. If you don't like it, then don't patronize the place. As for workers, no one has to work at any given business. If you don't like smoking, then don't apply for a job at a bar, nightclub, bowling alley, etc.
As for banning smoking in actual public places, that is ridiculous. The argument that second hand smoke is harmful is merely an hypothesis. No actual data exists to prove it. Even if it were, in open areas like parks or sidewalks, the amount of second hand smoke actually inhaled by non-smokers is so negligible that to make it an issue is as silly as to argue--as the old theologians did--if angels could be small enough to dance on the head of a pin.
All this said, I'd like to mention something that I found stupid.
I took my family to Burger King (some national socialist republicrats would like to prevent such a meal, of course, but I digress). Both kids ordered kids' meals, and they were delighted to find that the meals came in a Simpsons bag with Simpsons toys (Mark got Barney, and Natalie got Apu).
What I thought was stupid was that on the bag, in smaller print, below The Simpsons, was printed something like, "This film is rated PG13--Some content may be inappropriate for anyone under the age of 13."
As if anyone under 13 is ordering kids' meals! The reason that Burger King had to place that warning is that they wanted to promote The Simpsons to kids, but they also wanted to be able to say, "Hey, we said that it's not for kids."
What's next, a Paris Hilton Sex Video kids meal--some content may not be appropriate for anyone under age 17 or with an ounce of taste or conscience?
I, as a free thinking, rational, good parent will allow my children to eat their kids meals and even play with their Barney and Apu toys, but I will not allow them to watch The Simpsons movie.
The opposition, however, will try to say that Burger King should not be allowed to market the movie to children. It should be against the law, they say. Which is tantamount to saying that violent force should be used (or at least threatened) to prevent them from doing so.
If that is your opinion, then keep your kids from the theater and leave me alone. Sure, you can tell me that I shouldn't allow my children to watch such material, but you should not be able to forcibly prevent me from doing so (pardon the split infinitive). Take care of yourself and your own. That's your job. Leave me and mine alone. If you're better, then the results will become obvious. However, every time in history that the puritans have taken over, we've gotten more problems then we started with (e.g. witch trials, prohibition-era violence, the drug war, etc.).
If you truly believe in freedom, then you cannot advocate anything that prevents anyone from doing anything as long as it doesn't harm anyone else. Pay attention to the main verb of that last clause. "Harm" is not synonymous with "annoy" or "bother" or "irritate." If something pisses you off, then create a blog and post your whinings (as is my preferred method).
Ron Paul for president.
However, that doesn't mean that I cannot say that certain things that certain people do aren't just plain stupid.
There's a difference, you see, between that and what the neo-national socialist republicrats do and say. I say, "That's stupid." They say, "There should be a law against that."
It's not really such a fine line. There's a big difference between disapproving something and utilizing the coercive power of government against it.
To wit, if I don't like smoking in restaurants, then I will either not patronize restaurants that allow smoking, or I will begrudgingly go to one because I value the food above the tobacco haze.
Others, however, who dislike smoking in restaurants would seek to harness the violent power of the state to prohibit said practice.
Let's get this straight. Restaurants, bars, or any other businesses are not public. They are private. They are owned by a person or people, which makes them, by definition, not public. Public places would be defined as street corners, parks, or any buildings owned by government on any level.
As the owner of any establishment, any man or woman ought to be able on his or her own to decide whether or not to allow patrons to smoke. If you don't like it, then don't patronize the place. As for workers, no one has to work at any given business. If you don't like smoking, then don't apply for a job at a bar, nightclub, bowling alley, etc.
As for banning smoking in actual public places, that is ridiculous. The argument that second hand smoke is harmful is merely an hypothesis. No actual data exists to prove it. Even if it were, in open areas like parks or sidewalks, the amount of second hand smoke actually inhaled by non-smokers is so negligible that to make it an issue is as silly as to argue--as the old theologians did--if angels could be small enough to dance on the head of a pin.
All this said, I'd like to mention something that I found stupid.
I took my family to Burger King (some national socialist republicrats would like to prevent such a meal, of course, but I digress). Both kids ordered kids' meals, and they were delighted to find that the meals came in a Simpsons bag with Simpsons toys (Mark got Barney, and Natalie got Apu).
What I thought was stupid was that on the bag, in smaller print, below The Simpsons, was printed something like, "This film is rated PG13--Some content may be inappropriate for anyone under the age of 13."
As if anyone under 13 is ordering kids' meals! The reason that Burger King had to place that warning is that they wanted to promote The Simpsons to kids, but they also wanted to be able to say, "Hey, we said that it's not for kids."
What's next, a Paris Hilton Sex Video kids meal--some content may not be appropriate for anyone under age 17 or with an ounce of taste or conscience?
I, as a free thinking, rational, good parent will allow my children to eat their kids meals and even play with their Barney and Apu toys, but I will not allow them to watch The Simpsons movie.
The opposition, however, will try to say that Burger King should not be allowed to market the movie to children. It should be against the law, they say. Which is tantamount to saying that violent force should be used (or at least threatened) to prevent them from doing so.
If that is your opinion, then keep your kids from the theater and leave me alone. Sure, you can tell me that I shouldn't allow my children to watch such material, but you should not be able to forcibly prevent me from doing so (pardon the split infinitive). Take care of yourself and your own. That's your job. Leave me and mine alone. If you're better, then the results will become obvious. However, every time in history that the puritans have taken over, we've gotten more problems then we started with (e.g. witch trials, prohibition-era violence, the drug war, etc.).
If you truly believe in freedom, then you cannot advocate anything that prevents anyone from doing anything as long as it doesn't harm anyone else. Pay attention to the main verb of that last clause. "Harm" is not synonymous with "annoy" or "bother" or "irritate." If something pisses you off, then create a blog and post your whinings (as is my preferred method).
Ron Paul for president.
Friday, July 27, 2007
Bobo!
Bobo--a.k.a. Robbie--is doing well. Here's an updated photograph of him.
Just look at the size of that ear!
Monday, July 16, 2007
I Like Women
So my recent praise of Jack Johnson and the picture of him surfing has led my friend, Murdock, to the conclusion that I might be just a little on the fruity side.
I'm not the least bit fruity.
Not only did he tease me in person, he set aside time to conceive of and execute a spoof so grand that I'm actually honored.
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Saturday, July 14, 2007
Some Jack Johnson Lyrics
I wrote earlier about how much I enjoy Jack Johnson's music. It's art done in such a way as to reflect the soul of the artist--as Don Maclean saw the tortured soul in Van Gogh's paintings. However, in this case the soul is at peace. Johnson is not pretentious, nor is his music. He doesn't dress like a dandy or act like a thug. He just plays his music.
What appeals most, to me, is the relaxing nature of his songs and the pleasant story-likeness of his lyrics.
To wit:
Do You Remember
Do you remember when we first met? I sure do.
It was some time in early September.
You were lazy about it; you made me wait around.
I was so crazy about you; I didn't mind.
So I was late for class; I locked my bike to yours.
It wasn't hard to find; you'd painted flowers on.
Guess that I was afraid that if you rolled away
You might not roll back my direction real soon.
Well, I was crazy about you then and now,
But the craziest thing of all: over ten years have gone by,
And you're still mine; we're locked in time.
Let's rewind
Do you remember when we first moved in together?
The piano took up the living room
You played me boogie-woogie; I played you love songs.
You'd say we're playing house; now you still say we are
We built our getaway up in a tree we found.
We felt so far away, though we were still in town.
Now I remember watching that old tree burn down.
I took a picture that I don't like to look at.
Well all these times they com.e and go,
And alone don't seem so long.
Over ten years have gone by.
We can't rewind; we're locked in time,
But you're still mine
Do you remember?
Constellations
The light was leaving
in the west it was blue
The children's laughter sang
and skipping just like the stones they threw
the voices echoed across the way
its getting late
It was just another night
with the sun set
and the moon rise not so far behind
to give us just enough light
to lay down underneath the stars
listen to papas translations
of the stories across the sky
we drew our own constellations
The west winds often last too long
the wind may calm down
nothing ever feels the same
Sheltered under the Kamani tree
waiting for the passing rain
clouds keep moving to uncover the scene
stars above are chasing the day away
to find the stories that we sometimes need
Listen close enough
all else fades
fades away
It was just another night
with the sun set
and the moon rise not so far behind
to give us just enough light
to lay down underneath the stars
listen to all the translations
of the stories across the sky
we drew our own constellations
Better Together
There's no combination of words
I could put on the back of a postcard
No song I could sing
But I can try for your heart
Our dreams, and they are made out of real things
like a, shoebox of photographs
with sepiatone loving
Love is the answer,
at least for most of the questions in my heart
Like why are we here? and where do we go?
And how come we're so hard?
It's not always easy and
sometimes life can be deceiving
I'll tell you one thing its always better when we're together
It's always better when we're together
look at the stars when we're together
its always better when we're together
Yeah, its always better when we're together
And all of these moments
just might find there way into my dreams tonight
But I know that they'll be gone
when the morning light sings
and brings new things
but tomorrow night you see
that they'll be gone too
too many things I have to do
But if all of these dreams might find there way
into my day to day scene
Ill be under the impression
i was somewhere in between
With only two
Just me and you
Not so many things we got to do
or places we got to be
We'll Sit beneath the mango tree
It's always better when we're together
Somewhere in between together
its always better when we're together
Yeah, its always better when we're together
I believe in memories
they look so, so pretty when I sleep
Hey now, and when I wake up,
you look so pretty sleeping next to me
But there is no time,
and there is no song I could sing
and there is no, combination of words I could say
but I will still tell you one thing
We're Better together
Friday, July 13, 2007
Harry Potter is Coming! (At Last, for the Last Time, Alas)
The seventh and supposedly final Harry Potter installment is due in a week and a few minutes.
I started reading the Potter books two years ago with my daughter. I read the first three and a half to her. Halfway through the fourth book, she took over to read on her own, and I decided to blaze on ahead.
While the books are neither exquisite literature nor poorly written, they are extremely entertaining. The major problem that I have with them is a bit of characterization. Perhaps someone else has (probably has) written or spoken of this, but I've neither read nor heard them.
Here's the problem.
The good characters tend to be dynamic. Harry and his friends are not perfect. They have moral highs and lows; but while they can be immature, tend to break rules when convenient, and occasionally cut corners, they do not turn to evil. They are realistic characters: good, but not perfectly good.
However!
The evil characters are terribly static. There are no moral highs for the evil characters (Voldemort, Draco & Lucius Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle, etc.). They are unrealistically evil in that they are perfectly evil.
The evil characters even have evil sounding names. The good guys get either regular names or irregular but charming names: Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, Albus Dumbledore, Neville Longbottom, Colin Creavy, etc. But the evil guys apparently must have evil sounding names.: Lord Voldemort, Draco (Dracula?--also I think that it's Latin for dragon) Malfoy (Malum /Malus is Latin for evil or bad, and we use it as a prefix to indicate evil or unfitting: malevolent, maladapted, malfeasance, etc. ), Lucius (Lucifer?) Malfoy, Goyle (Gargoyle), Delores Umbrage (i.e. offense, annoyance, displeasure), Severus Snape, etc.
The only good character with an evil sounding name is Sirius Black--and it had to be an evil sounding name because the first three quarters of The Prisoner of Azkeban required the reader to think that Black was a mass-murderer who sought to add Harry to his list of unfortunate victims.
On an artistic level, this is author J.K. Rowling's worst offense. It's to literature what bubble-gum pop is to music, or what "I'm Being Eaten By a Boa Constrictor" is to poetry. Still, I've always been able to get past it and enjoy the stories. You should too.
I started reading the Potter books two years ago with my daughter. I read the first three and a half to her. Halfway through the fourth book, she took over to read on her own, and I decided to blaze on ahead.
While the books are neither exquisite literature nor poorly written, they are extremely entertaining. The major problem that I have with them is a bit of characterization. Perhaps someone else has (probably has) written or spoken of this, but I've neither read nor heard them.
Here's the problem.
The good characters tend to be dynamic. Harry and his friends are not perfect. They have moral highs and lows; but while they can be immature, tend to break rules when convenient, and occasionally cut corners, they do not turn to evil. They are realistic characters: good, but not perfectly good.
However!
The evil characters are terribly static. There are no moral highs for the evil characters (Voldemort, Draco & Lucius Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle, etc.). They are unrealistically evil in that they are perfectly evil.
The evil characters even have evil sounding names. The good guys get either regular names or irregular but charming names: Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, Albus Dumbledore, Neville Longbottom, Colin Creavy, etc. But the evil guys apparently must have evil sounding names.: Lord Voldemort, Draco (Dracula?--also I think that it's Latin for dragon) Malfoy (Malum /Malus is Latin for evil or bad, and we use it as a prefix to indicate evil or unfitting: malevolent, maladapted, malfeasance, etc. ), Lucius (Lucifer?) Malfoy, Goyle (Gargoyle), Delores Umbrage (i.e. offense, annoyance, displeasure), Severus Snape, etc.
The only good character with an evil sounding name is Sirius Black--and it had to be an evil sounding name because the first three quarters of The Prisoner of Azkeban required the reader to think that Black was a mass-murderer who sought to add Harry to his list of unfortunate victims.
On an artistic level, this is author J.K. Rowling's worst offense. It's to literature what bubble-gum pop is to music, or what "I'm Being Eaten By a Boa Constrictor" is to poetry. Still, I've always been able to get past it and enjoy the stories. You should too.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Banana Pancakes Jack Johnson Band Live
The audio's a bit skippy in the beginning, but it straightens out soon enough.
Jack Johnson Fan
Lately, I can't get enough of Jack Johnson's music. My favorites are, in no particular order: Sitting, Waiting, Listening; Constelations, Do You Remember, Banana Pancakes, Belle, and Better Together.
The two above posts are of Jack playing live.
Even those titles omitted from my overly brief list are worth a listening.
The two above posts are of Jack playing live.
Even those titles omitted from my overly brief list are worth a listening.
Monday, July 09, 2007
An Apology and a Reiteration
I stand rebuked and humbled by a mentor and a friend. My most recent post on Global Warming was riddled with foul language and a non sequitor reference to George Carlin's Seven Words that You Can't Say on TV (which is, by the way, a really funny bit regardless of utterly necessary foul language).
My argument is strong enough without the vulgar language, but my problem comes with trying to speak to vulgar people, for these are the only people who can believe the eco-fascist agenda.
Sure, there are plenty of smart eco-facists, and they are certainly not vulgar, but I don't think that most of them actually believe their arguments. Instead, they use the issue as a springboard to power. Look at Al Gore. If the man truly believed what he professes, then would he lead such a carbon-rich lifestyle?
I resort to foul language out of frustration. It's easy for the climate change people to demonstrate that global temperatures have risen. The problem is that the connection to human activity is hypothetical. In fact, the connection is ridiculous, since the global temperature has risen for eons, completely independent of man-made carbon emmissions.
Suppose a man was riding a bus (see how I cater to the green-folks?). Let's say that the bus is crowded with people who had been to an "All You Can Eat" special at the local Mexican restaurant.
Our hero did not eat at the Mexican restaurant, but all of his riding companions had.
Needless to say, these people have gas, and they let it out.
Just after a 350 pound Samoan dude rips a big one, our hero clutches his chest and falls to the ground.
The bus stops, and paramedics arrive, but they pronounce the man dead.
The global warming crew would say that this guy died because everyone else in the bus farted--especially that Samoan dude (who must be a metaphor for the U.S.).
However, let's look at the dead guy's history. Since he was a young boy, he had eaten four twinkies a day. He never exercised. He smoked three packs of cigarrettes a day for forty years, and he was born with a congenital heart defect.
Knowing the dead guy's past history, how do you think that he really died?
That's right. It wasn't the fart. So why do you believe Al Gore?
My argument is strong enough without the vulgar language, but my problem comes with trying to speak to vulgar people, for these are the only people who can believe the eco-fascist agenda.
Sure, there are plenty of smart eco-facists, and they are certainly not vulgar, but I don't think that most of them actually believe their arguments. Instead, they use the issue as a springboard to power. Look at Al Gore. If the man truly believed what he professes, then would he lead such a carbon-rich lifestyle?
I resort to foul language out of frustration. It's easy for the climate change people to demonstrate that global temperatures have risen. The problem is that the connection to human activity is hypothetical. In fact, the connection is ridiculous, since the global temperature has risen for eons, completely independent of man-made carbon emmissions.
Suppose a man was riding a bus (see how I cater to the green-folks?). Let's say that the bus is crowded with people who had been to an "All You Can Eat" special at the local Mexican restaurant.
Our hero did not eat at the Mexican restaurant, but all of his riding companions had.
Needless to say, these people have gas, and they let it out.
Just after a 350 pound Samoan dude rips a big one, our hero clutches his chest and falls to the ground.
The bus stops, and paramedics arrive, but they pronounce the man dead.
The global warming crew would say that this guy died because everyone else in the bus farted--especially that Samoan dude (who must be a metaphor for the U.S.).
However, let's look at the dead guy's history. Since he was a young boy, he had eaten four twinkies a day. He never exercised. He smoked three packs of cigarrettes a day for forty years, and he was born with a congenital heart defect.
Knowing the dead guy's past history, how do you think that he really died?
That's right. It wasn't the fart. So why do you believe Al Gore?
Saturday, July 07, 2007
Lincoln Humor
I was reading the paper today, and I came across a quote so good that I cannot help but post.
Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?
It reminds me of another joke that I modified to be more historical:
What was the last think to go through Abraham Lincoln's mind?
A .50 caliber bullet.
Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?
It reminds me of another joke that I modified to be more historical:
What was the last think to go through Abraham Lincoln's mind?
A .50 caliber bullet.
Global Warming: Rated "P-13" for Moderately Foul Language
Live Earth: musicians pool their talents to convince people to think, preach, and act counterintuitively to the truth.
It reminds me of the failed "Vote for Change" tour of musicians (e.g. Bruce Springsteen, John Mellancamp, etc.) who tried to convince us that John Kerry was a statesman.
Neither is true. It doesn't matter that Springsteen and Mellancamp are responsible for great lyrics like
Down in the shadow of the penitentiary
Out by the gas lines of the refinery
I'm ten years burning down the road
Nowhere to run, ain't go nowhere to go (Springsteen)
or
Life goes on
Long after the thrill
Of livin' is gone. (Mellancamp)
They are musicians. They act like philosophers and they try desperately to speak like poets, but in the end they hold a guitar in one hand, a joint in the other, and talk as if recording a hit album was the equivalent of walking out of Plato's cave.
How many times do I have to say it? The earth has been warming naturally since the end of the Ice Age. Let's talk scientific facts. There was an Ice Age. Everything was really freaking cold. Tens of thousands of years ago--before factories, cars, etc.--the Earth started to warm. We have been warming ever since. These are freaking facts, and still these freaking (choose one) a. fascist b. communist c. retarded a-holes are running around like chicken little because data shows that the climate is warming.
No crap, Corky. If the climate wasn't warming, then my ass would be frozen on a glacier. Thanks for the info, dude.
I'm sorry for the use of such crass language, but I'm at the end of my wits here. Are people so freaking stupid that they follow this crap? The global warming 'tards say that we need to listen to them because it concerns the future for your children and grandchildren, etc.
I say this, if we do listen to you, then there's not much hope for our children and grandchildren, etc.
By the way, if anyone ever says "and et cetera," do me a favor and call them ignorant. the et in et cetera already means "and."
!
It reminds me of the failed "Vote for Change" tour of musicians (e.g. Bruce Springsteen, John Mellancamp, etc.) who tried to convince us that John Kerry was a statesman.
Neither is true. It doesn't matter that Springsteen and Mellancamp are responsible for great lyrics like
Down in the shadow of the penitentiary
Out by the gas lines of the refinery
I'm ten years burning down the road
Nowhere to run, ain't go nowhere to go (Springsteen)
or
Life goes on
Long after the thrill
Of livin' is gone. (Mellancamp)
They are musicians. They act like philosophers and they try desperately to speak like poets, but in the end they hold a guitar in one hand, a joint in the other, and talk as if recording a hit album was the equivalent of walking out of Plato's cave.
How many times do I have to say it? The earth has been warming naturally since the end of the Ice Age. Let's talk scientific facts. There was an Ice Age. Everything was really freaking cold. Tens of thousands of years ago--before factories, cars, etc.--the Earth started to warm. We have been warming ever since. These are freaking facts, and still these freaking (choose one) a. fascist b. communist c. retarded a-holes are running around like chicken little because data shows that the climate is warming.
No crap, Corky. If the climate wasn't warming, then my ass would be frozen on a glacier. Thanks for the info, dude.
I'm sorry for the use of such crass language, but I'm at the end of my wits here. Are people so freaking stupid that they follow this crap? The global warming 'tards say that we need to listen to them because it concerns the future for your children and grandchildren, etc.
I say this, if we do listen to you, then there's not much hope for our children and grandchildren, etc.
By the way, if anyone ever says "and et cetera," do me a favor and call them ignorant. the et in et cetera already means "and."
!
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Hiatus
I ran into a problem with my computer. It looks like a Windows problem, so my computer's back under repair. Please forgive the hiatus. I'll be blogging up a storm once it's back.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
A Thought
The reaction to Salman Rushdie's recent honor (British knighthood) shows how sick his opponents are. They believe neither in freedom nor in a good God. They are--ironically--idolatrists, in their worship of Mohammad. Listening to them, one can hardly fathom that Allah is actually their god.
I am quite annoyed by supposed religious types who use God as an excuse to speak and act in ghastly manners. Those who would execute the fatwah on Rushdie are no better than klansmen.
I am quite annoyed by supposed religious types who use God as an excuse to speak and act in ghastly manners. Those who would execute the fatwah on Rushdie are no better than klansmen.
Rushdie
It's one thing to think that Salmon Rusdie is a heretic, even an infadel. It's another thing to proclaim upon him a death sentence because he dared to write a novel. It's still another thing to threaten the British people with violence because they recently knighted him.
The reaction to Rushdie's knighthood shows how sick his opponents are. They believe neither in freedom nor in a good God. They are--ironically--idolitrists, in their worship of Mohammad.
The reaction to Rushdie's knighthood shows how sick his opponents are. They believe neither in freedom nor in a good God. They are--ironically--idolitrists, in their worship of Mohammad.
Harry Potter and Meat
If you haven't yet read them, then do read the Harry Potter novels. They are quite good. The first two novels are typical(but quality) teenage literature. However, the subsequent ones are much deeper, darker, and satisfying--but only if you start from the beginning.
In light of this, I must confess that I would not be a well behaved wizard.
I read up to The Goblet of Fire with Natalie, and then turned it over to her, but she's so painfully slow in her progress--probably because she just turned seven--that I could not wait and read ahead. I'm now nearly finished with The Order of the Phoenix--the best one yet.
I simply couldn't wait for her, not since the final installment is nearly due--and I want to read it myself before I hear about it.
Like I said, I would not have been a well behaved wizard. Ever since I started The Goblet of Fire, I keep wishing for Harry to use Avada Kedavra on several characters (e.g. Umbridge, Snape, Fudge, both Malfoys, the Crabbes, the Goyles, and (of course) Wormtail and Voldemort).
While I am pretty much against the use of violence, there are times when, I dare say, people need killing (or at least hurting)--see my previous comments on Hugo Chavez and Keanu Reeves.
So much for me being a pacifist.
I'm like a vegetarian who craves beef.
MMM--beef. It's what's for dinner.
Hell yes, it is!
And Pork's not just the other white meat. It is the white meat. Chicken is for peasants, though it's quite good when cooked on a grill.
In light of this, I must confess that I would not be a well behaved wizard.
I read up to The Goblet of Fire with Natalie, and then turned it over to her, but she's so painfully slow in her progress--probably because she just turned seven--that I could not wait and read ahead. I'm now nearly finished with The Order of the Phoenix--the best one yet.
I simply couldn't wait for her, not since the final installment is nearly due--and I want to read it myself before I hear about it.
Like I said, I would not have been a well behaved wizard. Ever since I started The Goblet of Fire, I keep wishing for Harry to use Avada Kedavra on several characters (e.g. Umbridge, Snape, Fudge, both Malfoys, the Crabbes, the Goyles, and (of course) Wormtail and Voldemort).
While I am pretty much against the use of violence, there are times when, I dare say, people need killing (or at least hurting)--see my previous comments on Hugo Chavez and Keanu Reeves.
So much for me being a pacifist.
I'm like a vegetarian who craves beef.
MMM--beef. It's what's for dinner.
Hell yes, it is!
And Pork's not just the other white meat. It is the white meat. Chicken is for peasants, though it's quite good when cooked on a grill.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Paris Hilton and Undigested Corn
Am I the only one who doesn't give a rip about Paris Hilton? Seriously, I don't think that she is news. If she'd gone to jail for, say, shooting someone (preferably another no-talent pseudo-celebrity), then that might be considered news.
Presently, the "news" about Paris Hilton fits into the same category as the "news" that I ate a lot of corn the other day, and it came out undigested. Hell, at least this latter story is one to which you can probably relate.
Presently, the "news" about Paris Hilton fits into the same category as the "news" that I ate a lot of corn the other day, and it came out undigested. Hell, at least this latter story is one to which you can probably relate.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Happy Me
Don't expect any rants for at least a few days. Right now, I'm just content with my life. The rest of the world can go to Hell, and all I'll note is how wonderful my three children are.
How uncharacteristic is this post of me? Here's a fix: Hugo Chavez is a liar, an a-hole, a power-hungry demagogue, and the most dangerous man in the hemisphere. I hope that he dies soon and painfully.
Now that's more like it!
How uncharacteristic is this post of me? Here's a fix: Hugo Chavez is a liar, an a-hole, a power-hungry demagogue, and the most dangerous man in the hemisphere. I hope that he dies soon and painfully.
Now that's more like it!
Monday, June 18, 2007
Friday, June 15, 2007
My Kid v. Lebron James's Kid
LeBron James's new son was only 21 inches long at birth. Ha!
My new boy was 21.5 inches!
I can't wait until Robbie Crossen dunks over Bryce James.
My new boy was 21.5 inches!
I can't wait until Robbie Crossen dunks over Bryce James.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
My Three Kids
Here's a picture taken today of the three wee-ones. Mark turned four last Sunday, and Natalie turns seven this Sunday. Robbie, of course, turned 0 last Friday.
Baby
Baby Robert (a.k.a Robby, Robbie, Captain Diaper Rash), weighing in at seven pounds, nine ounces, and measuring a full 21.5 inches long arrived on Friday at 1302 hours. Stay tuned for more pics and such.
Friday, June 01, 2007
Jake Shimabukuro
Murdock is right. Watching Jake really is proof that I suck at the ukulele.
What the hell, I'm still better than all of you (both of you, that is) who read this blog!
Ender's Game
I recently read Ender's Game, by Orson Scott Card. This was the first book in quite some time that I completely devoured.
I've asked several peers if they've read it, and those who have agree that it is one of the best Sci-Fi novels ever written. I am pretty sure that when the end of the year comes, it will be Ender's Game that receives my nod for my best reading of the year.
Rumor has it that Wolfgang Peterson has signed on to create the film version. While I'm excited to see the film (supposedly to be released in 2008), I cannot help but lament in advance that even the most skilled director won't get it right.
I've asked several peers if they've read it, and those who have agree that it is one of the best Sci-Fi novels ever written. I am pretty sure that when the end of the year comes, it will be Ender's Game that receives my nod for my best reading of the year.
Rumor has it that Wolfgang Peterson has signed on to create the film version. While I'm excited to see the film (supposedly to be released in 2008), I cannot help but lament in advance that even the most skilled director won't get it right.
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