Friends, Christians, and Communists

I received a note from John, once my boss, with an amazing video showcasing the abilities of a high-speed camera. I liked the video, but he, like Gravebinder and a few others, reminded me that I'm falling down on the job with respect to my blog. I hate it when friends are right, truly. In my own defense… ok, there's no real defense, but my excuse is actually trying to decide what to write about among the myriad choices is <whine> difficult! So then, I've chosen an old pet peeve…

I've heard that nasty word "social justice" once again, and I'm always interested enough to ask my erstwhile conversation partner what he means by this interesting compound idea. Erstwhile? Former conversation partners because I'm generally opposed to the common or popular notion of what "social justice" constitutes, and my opposition seems to color me as Satan himself to some of the liberal nutroots I've engaged in conversation (despite their intense opposition to religion, it is ok to label opponents as the minions of Beelzebub). Taking the adjective social away from the concept at least leaves the actual noun being modified in some fashion. Make no mistake, English works precisely this way.

"No, no, no, you don't understand. It wasn't simply a man; it was a little green man!"

Granted, that's poking a little fun, but whether used rationally or irrationally, that's the way we use our language. Clearly, progressives are trying to make it plain that they are NOT talking about the classical meaning of justice, and hence, the adjective "social." I had always thought justice by nature and definition must be social. Something else is meant in this case – so, for comparison, let's take a look at the origin of the word "justice." I'll use the Online Etymology Dictionary:

1140, "the exercise of authority in vindication of right by assigning reward or punishment," from O.Fr. justise, from L. justitia "righteousness, equity," from justus "upright, just." The O.Fr. word had widespread senses, including "uprightness, equity, vindication of right, court of justice, judge." The word began to be used in Eng. c.1200 as a title for a judicial officer. Meaning "the administration of law" is from 1303. Justice of the peace first attested 1320. In the Mercian hymns, L. justitia is glossed by O.E. rehtwisnisse.

Generally, "the administration of law" was once a common understanding of the term "justice." On the other hand, the term "social justice" uses the adjective "social" to incorporate the notions often associated with socialism/communism. The always popular "take from those who are more prosperous and give to those who are less prosperous" – whether on a national or global scale depends largely on who is promoting the idea. For example, Anthony Brunt at the University of Iowa puts it this way:

The first component of social justice is a minimum standard of living in the realms of employment, health, housing, and education. This is the portion of social justice that is best dispensed through government agencies. According to the 1999 U.N. Human Development Report, for forty billion dollars the most disadvantaged portions of the world can achieve basic healthcare, education, sanitation facilities, potable water, and an adequate food supply for all. To contrast this amount in relative terms, last year Microsoft chairperson Bill Gates had an estimated net worth of fifty-two billion dollars. I do not believe that allocating an additional forty billion dollars will strain those living in a state of luxury.

Only somewhat tongue in cheek, Kfir Alfia and Alan Lipton in A Field Guide to Left-Wing Wackos, says that communists are "Anyone who likes the things you have, wants them for his own, and doesn't mind if a totalitarian state is what it takes to make that happen." This idea of using a government to accomplish their ends is highlighted by Brunt in the next paragraph of his paper, albeit for logistical concerns.

Why even mention this topic? Because I find it at least a little ironic and humorous that this unusual group of liberals shares so much in common with the very people they are so opposed to having any influence on our society. Truly, the only real difference between the liberal nutroots and the Christians in this case is the means by which they ameliorate poverty. I really cannot say it better than C.S. Lewis on this topic, and he makes the point so forcefully, I'll close with a small portion from The Problem of Pain:

Those who would most scornfully repudiate Christianity as a mere "opiate of the people" have a contempt for the rich, that is , for all mankind except the poor. They regard the poor as the only people worth preserving from "liquidation," and place in them the only hope of the human race. But this is not compatible with a belief that the effects of poverty on those who suffer it are wholly evil; it even implies that they are good. The Marxist thus finds himself in agreement with the Christians in those two beliefs which Christianity paradoxically demands – that poverty is blessed and yet ought to be removed. (C.S. Lewis, 1940, pp. 108-109)

P.S. "And that's Entertainment"

Cheers!

Nature Hike Gone Bad

The family and I went on a Nature Hike up to Opal Creek. I read up on the history of the area and we became especially fascinated with the once 'prosperous gold mining camp'. The clan and I embarked on a 9 mile round trip to view all the sights. We saw birds, flowers, squirrels, fish, waterfalls, and old logging equipment. After hours of hiking, we finally found what we thought we were looking for, an abandoned gold mining tunnel, but to our HORROR it was a MIME SHAFT " as you can see from the photo provided". We will NEVER...NEVER get over that sight!

Biker Buddies and Motorcycle Zen

Not long ago, Dan (biker buddy) introduced me to a little hole-in-the-wall diner named Shirley Mae's (I hope I have that spelling right). Stunningly good food, exceedingly generous helpings (Ms. Skald and I share a plate), and just the right ambience for a couple of bikers. It seems Dan's got a nose for eats, but more, he's got a poet's soul and he liked this blog's notion of Motorcycle Zen – so he couldn't help but send out a bit of a prose poem – here it is for your pleasure and edification:

About 2 years ago, I purchased a Royal Enfield Bullet 500 ES Classic - pure 1950's technology, built in India on 1950's machinery and tooling from Redditch, England. Of course this means that I need to spend time about every 100 miles checking all the bolts, wires, carb settings, etc. But I learned a lot about motorcycling with the wee bike. The only thing that did not thrill me was the max top speed of 67+-. Trucks kept making me nervous.

Then, a year ago I bought a Harley-Davidson motorcycle. A 2004 Fatboy: a Twin Cam 88B, fuel injected, internally balanced (less vibration), 88 cubic inch engine. Lava Red and only 8000 miles on her! Oh, the power when I got her out on the highway and opened up the throttle. She became my main commuter, carrying me the 34 miles one way to work, relegating the faithful little 4 cycle one-lunger to the occasional short ride around town.

But today, I got home and parked the Harley-Davidson and looked over at the Royal Enfield. That black paint and gold pinstripe called to me. I walked over, put the key in, turned on the fuel and kicked him over (yes, it's a him). Brruumm, poppapoppapoppapoppa. I got on and went for a spin. What a difference between the two. One, a big, heavy, fuel injected modern beast versus the other, a light, carbureted, single cylinder running on 1950's technology. No computer to deal with, no idiot lights if things go wrong. Just a 500 cc (32 cubic inch) thumper moving me down the road on a saddle between two tyres (they are Avons, so that is the correct spelling). Simplicity on a sunny, first-of-summer afternoon. Sorry Mr. Harley and you Davidson brothers, but Redditch tech wins today. I will be taking off for work about 30 minutes earlier tomorrow – the back roads are safer for the Enfield than trusting to rushing commuters on I-5.

Flatheads, knuckleheads, panheads and more – oldies worth riding… like Dan said, it's summer, and it's time to pick the June bugs, Mayflies, and love bugs out of our teeth and hair. Well friends, I'll meet you at the pub after the ride.

Stay free, ride hard.

A Tree Falls in the Woods…

There is an old saw in philosophy that cuts this way, "If a tree falls in the woods, and there is no one there to perceive it, then does it make a sound?" Philosophical skeptics such as David Hume and Bishop Berkeley are largely responsible for the notion. They were so consumed with the mechanics of human perception they doubted the existence of a world that existed outside the human mind.

Gravebinder and I were knocking around an idea for a story and this notion of perception came up in regards to freedom. If there is a secret cabal (you know, like the vast neocon conspiracy to wrest control of our government) influencing/manipulating society without their knowledge, is that society free? Is their freedom contingent on their own perception? Is ignorance really bliss?

Seriously, in terms of perception, if a deal is made between two parties, and both parties are satisfied by the deal, haven't they both come out ahead because of their perceived value of the exchange in question? I pay a buck fifty for the Sunday paper because I believe the value of the contents are worth more than my buck fifty, and the newspaper company is convinced the buck fifty is worth more than the paper (the paper is at least suitable to wrap fish). Too capitalist a perspective? Or is freedom not a commodity that can be valued/traded in a market?

For Gravebinder and me, the notion was relative to the observer. If I am unaware of the manipulation moving me in a specific direction, then I would consider myself free to act. If and when I become aware of the manipulation, then I also become aware of the constraints on my freedom. The question becomes whether or not there is a locus of perception greater than myself that defines an objective reality that everyone shares.

Is there an objective reality? Does it make sense for us to hash things out for the best course of action? For Bishop Berkley it makes sense, and Ronald Knox wrote a limerick that comments on why:

There was a young man who said "God
Must think it exceedingly odd
If he finds that this tree
Continues to be
When there's no one about in the Quad."

"Dear Sir, your astonishment's odd;
I am always about in the Quad
And that's why this tree
Will continue to be
Since observed by Yours faithfully, God."

I like these limericks, Gravebinder likes these limericks, and I figured you might like them. A last question to everyone then: Does the tree continue to be?

Cheers all.

Friday the Thirteenth Calf Blogging

Ok, ok – I'll be getting off my duff here shortly, but before the research starts in earnest, I've an obligation to share this baby cow thing I found. Why? Well, first there's the Friday Calf Blogging that Coffee neglected *most evil grin*. Second, I was looking around for something that might be suitable for today's calf blogging and came across a sleeping baby cow… my daughters saw the darn thing – it seems I'm buying three: one each for daughters number three and four, and one for their friend's wedding. I guess she's a cow person. Curses! J

Was it the participation? Friday the thirteenth? That I'm enjoying myself now that I've graduated again? *^%$&@# Click the picture and -- Go buy a cow…

The Vacation’s Over

Hello blogosphere! I'm back from vacation, and as vacations go, parts of it were wonderful! The medical crap, not so fun, but gaming with Gravebinder, and hitting the coast for the Fourth of July were both great fun. We had some crabs, chips, and pickles on the beach with my father and his wife, and all the girls did the beachcomber thing while the two old men sat on their duffs. Now we're planning a campout with my brother up in the Jefferson wilderness somewhere… probably out by Three Fingered Jack – looking forward to fun!

My apologies for not mentioning the week of vacation, but I'll soon be back to more regular entries. I am looking forward to a few new projects – for the blog, for a few friends, and most important, for my family.

Cheers all!

Friday Calf Blogging – A History

Friday calf blogging – and the faithful are more than keeping up – the originator of this lovely "fad" is "bumping it up a notch!" I'll confess I can't keep up with amazing contests and cool videos, but I can do what failed poets do since, well, forever – share someone else's poem. Oh, and a really beautiful old postcard I found somewhere online.

Like most little boys, when I was a little boy, I dreamt of being a cowboy – they were the closest things America had to knights errant, and my grandfather inspired a love of chivalric virtue. My grandfather was one of those rare examples of Christianity that walked the walk rather than wasting a lot of talk. One of my useless advanced degrees was aimed at being a pastor, so this poem captured my imagination. Hope you all enjoy the picture card and the verse!

The Calf Path

One day thru the primeval wood
A calf walked home, as good calves should;
But made a trail, all bent askew,
A crooked trail, as all calves do.
Since then 300 years have fled,
And I infer the calf is dead.
But still, he left behind his trail
And thereby hangs my mortal tale.

The trail was taken up next day
By a lone dog that passed that way.
And then, a wise bell weathered sheep
Pursued the trail, o'er~vale and steep,
And drew the flocks behind him too
As good bell weathers always do.
And from that day, o'er hill and glade
Thru those old woods, a path was made.

And many men wound in and out,
And dodged, and turned, and bent about,
And uttered words of righteous wrath
Because 'twas such a crooked path,
But still they followed, do not laugh,
The first migrations of that calf.
And thru the winding woods they stalked
Because he wobbled when he walked.

This forest path became a lane
That bent, and turned, and turned again.
This crooked lane became a road
Where many a poor horse with his load
Toiled on beneath the burning sun
And traveled some three miles in one.
And thus a century and a half
They trod the footsteps of that calf.

The years passed on in swiftness fleet,
The road became a village street.
And this, before men were aware,
A city's crowed thoroughfare.
And soon the central street was this
Of a renowned metropolis.
And men, two centuries and a half
Trod the footsteps of that calf.

Each day a 100 thousand route
Followed the zig-zag calf about,
And o'er his crooked journey went
The traffic of a continent.
A 100 thousand men were led
By one calf, near three centuries dead.
They followed still his crooked way
And lost 100 years per day.
For this such reverence is lent
To well establish precedent.

A moral lesson this might teach
Were I ordained , and called to preach.
For men are prone to go it blind
Along the calf paths of the mind,
And work away from sun to sun
To do what other men have done.
They follow in the beaten track,
And out, and in, and forth, and back,
And still their devious course pursue
To keep the paths that others do.

They keep the paths a sacred groove
Along which all their lives they move.
But how the wise old wood gods laugh
Who saw that first primeval calf.
Ah, many things this tale might teach,
But I am not ordained to preach.

By Sam Walter Foss

Hitchens and Rage Boy

I just read an item by Christopher Hitchens at Slate, and I hope everybody reads/passes on his article – so as many people as possible actually read it. The article has a compelling start:

If you follow the link, you will be treated to some scenes from the strenuous life of a professional Muslim protester in the Kashmiri city of Srinagar. Over the last few years, there have been innumerable opportunities for him to demonstrate his piety and his pissed-offness. And the cameras have been there for him every time. Is it a fatwah? Is it a copy of the Quran allegedly down the gurgler at Guantanamo? Is it some cartoon in Denmark? Time for Rage Boy to step in and for his visage to impress the rest of the world with the depth and strength of Islamist emotion.

Ridiculously short post here, but the other man at Slate has the goods… please take a look!

Remembering Occam’s Razor

Economy, parsimony, and simplicity… I guess today is nostalgia day. This is a "not so current events" day, and the events are the Civil Rights Act of 1964, United Steel Workers of America v. Brian F. Weber (1979), and Cheryl J. Hopwood, et al. vs. The State of Texas (1994). The motivation for this post is actually Thomas Sowell's The Vision of the Anointed: Self Congratulation as a Basis for Social Policy. "Judicial Activism" was the section I was reading, but more important, it was the subsection concerning definitions and distortions that caught my eye.

I would heartily recommend Thomas Sowell on virtually any topic, but especially on subjects in the area of political philosophy, race and ethnicity/culture, and judicial activism. I know, he's an economist, and not so surprisingly, I purchased his Basic Economics: A Citizen's Guide to the Economy and am enjoying it immensely. My youngest daughter thinks I'm a dweeb, but since she was with me, I provided an incentive for her to read it… I buy her books and let her put the price of both our purchases on her Borders Rewards card instead of mine if she'll agree to read the book. I love incentives! She agreed as long as I read it first because she'll "read it slower and have questions" so I had better learn it first. I also love my daughter ;-)

Now that everyone knows I love my daughters and Thomas Sowell, we'll get back to business. First, the Civil Rights Act is legislation that forbids racial discrimination in "apprenticeship training programs, such as that which excluded a white worker, Brian F. Weber, in order to include black workers with lower qualifications" (Sowell, The Anointed, 1995, p. 233). Where the Civil Rights Act forbids just such discrimination:

Justice Brennan who claimed elsewhere that discerning the original intent of lawmakers was virtually impossible, in this case saw lawmakers' intent so clearly – Congress' "primary concern" for "the plight of the Negro in our economy" – that he disregarded the plain words of the Civil Rights Act (as cited in Sowell, 1995, p. 233).

Instead of focusing on Sowell's primary point in this conversation, I'm going to highlight a secondary point that brings a murky distortion into sharp relief. It was once a goal in this country to make certain things as "color blind" as possible – such as admissions to colleges, apprenticeship training programs, etc. In order to bring this distortion into relief I need another quotation from yet another judge, in this case, a federal judge in Texas:

The plaintiffs have contended that any preferential treatment to a group based on race violates the Fourteenth Amendment and, therefore, is unconstitutional. However, such a simplistic application of the Fourteenth Amendment would ignore the long history of pervasive racial discrimination in our society that the Fourteenth Amendment was adopted to remedy and the complexities of achieving the societal goal of overcoming the past effects of that discrimination (as cited in Sowell, 1995, p. 233-234). Emphasis added.

Thomas Sowell provides a number of excellent responses to such errant nonsense. He pays only passing attention to the word "simplistic" because he already addressed the problem earlier in the book. It's a lesson worth learning. Verbal gymnastics are not the same as an argument or a proof, and judges should know that. It pays to watch for words that prove nothing about the premises of an argument, and more important, contribute nothing to the truth or falsehood of the conclusion. Although the significance of the word simplistic is easy to miss in this context, Sowell makes the point firmly:

As in so many other contexts, the word "simplistic" was not part of an argument but a substitute for an argument. To interpret the Fourteenth Amendment as meaning what it says – equal treatment for all – does not ignore the history which led to the passage of that Amendment (Sowell, 1995, p. 234). Emphasis added.

Personally, I like the rule of law. Moreover, I like the notion that I can count on the rules to remain the same until such time as a legislator changes it – because he represents me by virtue of having won an election. I find the notion that an unelected judge can pass law by fiat from the bench reprehensible. Clearly, the Constitution put the responsibility for law-making outside the bounds of the bench, and unfortunately we, as a free people, have allowed our system of law to become frenchified by blatherskites on the bench. Is there something we can do now? Something like Michigan?

Ok, I'll admit the two linked-words frenchified and blatherskite were a little over the top, but I just learned 'em an' I had to use 'em! They SOUND like insults

J

Happy Sunday!

The Cow and the Calf... Blogging

It seems Terri over at IT(L)TIE has spread this viral thing called "Calf-Blogging" for Fridays, and truly, who am I to fight such a swell of veal? Since the tide is rising, and really, Thorn is kind of cute, I thought I'd include a picture of the Cow and the Calf that I'm sure Thorn would enjoy -- for grazing rights of course

Now that I've "caught" it from Coffee, I'll be searching for the cure before it gets out of hand ;-)... or not. This bellicose bovine bedlam might be the blessing of greater Rombalds Moor! The reference is obscure, but... FUN. Follow the picture's link, I've been there and it were beautimous!

Cheers you two.

Before Fathers’ Day Ends

Father and Son

It's late today, Fathers' Day, and thanks to Gravebinder (I'm guessing) I've been yakking all weekend. Thanks bud! Despite that, I found something out about Fathers' Day that was interesting. I shipped it off to my own Father, and because I liked the history and the sentiment, I thought I'd pass it along. So in addition to my own Father, honors to my brother (known to you as Attila the Pun), my son-in-law (pictured above with his son), Gary, and Dan, all are fathers I've seen in action and admire. Honors to Coffeespy by virtue of his blog and odds and ends I've picked up from Gravebinder. But today, special honors to Gravebinder, who probably best epitomizes why Fathers' Day came to be… the love and sacrifice of a single dad:

The idea for creating a day for children to honor their fathers began in Spokane, Washington. A woman by the name of Sonora Smart Dodd thought of the idea for Father's Day while listening to a Mother's Day sermon in 1909.

Having been raised by her father, William Jackson Smart, after her mother died, Sonora wanted her father to know how special he was to her. It was her father that made all the parental sacrifices and was, in the eyes of his daughter, a courageous, selfless, and loving man. Sonora's father was born in June, so she chose to hold the first Father's Day celebration in Spokane, Washington on the 19th of June, 1910.

In 1926, a National Father's Day Committee was formed in New York City. Father's Day was recognized by a Joint Resolution of Congress in 1956. In 1972, President Richard Nixon established a permanent national observance of Father's Day to be held on the third Sunday of June. So Father's Day was born in memory and gratitude by a daughter who thought that her father and all good fathers should be honored with a special day just like we honor our mothers on Mother's Day.

The excerpt below is from the Silver Anniversary Book on Father's day published in 1935. I would like to thank William Jackson Smart's great granddaughter, Bonnie, for sharing this with me.

"This year, 1935, the Silver Anniversary of Fathers' Day is being observed. Thirty-seven years ago, in the Big Bend hills of Washington, the day had its nativity in a lonely farm dwelling. There Sorrow ministered amid the moaning of the March winds.

A father sat with bowed head in his aloneness. About him clung his weeping children. The winds outside threw great scarfs of powdered snow against the window panes, when suddenly the last born tore himself from the group and rushed out into the storm calling for his mother. Yet even his baby voice could not penetrate the great silence that held this mother.

Hurriedly, the father gathered him back to his protection and for more than two decades, William Jackson Smart, alone, kept paternal vigilance over his motherless children.

This poignant experience in the life of Mrs. John Bruce Dodd of Spokane, Washington, who was then Sonora Louise Smart, was the inspiration for Fathers' Day which materialized through the devotion of this father and the father of her own son, John Bruce Jr., born in 1909. Through the observance of the love and the sacrifice of fathers about her everywhere, her idea of Fathers' Day crystallized in 1910, through a formal Fathers' Day petition asking recognition of fatherhood." Read it all here.

Happy Fathers' Day to all you dads out there, but especially to you single pops! I hope your day was the best of days! I wish I could have been as great a father as those I've mentioned. More important, I pray your sons grow to be better fathers than you are now, that your daughters grow to choose the best of men as fathers for their children, and that we all strive to be better with our children.

Stay well dads.

Comments & Trackbacks & Data, OH MY

Hi Folks. It seems I'm an inveterate fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of guy when it comes to software installation. I've inadvertently destroyed the comments posted to my blog thus far. Try HaloScan! It's an easy two step installation! Now you'll have trackbacks!

First, I'm not certain what a trackback is… exactly, but hey, if it's new, I want one [yeeesh, sounds like a Jessica Simpson commercial] because I'm certain I'll find a use for it… whatever it is. Lucky for me, I've an email or two that have some of the comments – I will be reproducing them as posts.

My abject apologies to everyone L

Here's the first comment, from Jeff, that I'm reproducing. Once I figure HaloScan out, things will be moving a little smoother in the comments section. Anyway, in response to Men Like Orchids Too:

I was listening to DC101, a local radio station, talking about the proposed "all womens' floor" of a Marriot. The woman commentator said women like a place to go to feel secure away from men and not get hit on. I was waiting in the parking lot of a Borders before going in to hear the author of Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants speak (that's another story).

I called up DC101 and said my piece:

If a woman is going to stereotype a man as violent, then the hotel better get ready to make an all white floor, too, because there are plenty of whites who feel threatened by people of other races (and vice versa to be fair). In fact, there is more black on white violence than there is man on women violence (DoJs annual reports back this up). Also, I want a hetero floor, too, so I don't have to worry about homosexuals hitting on me, because you know they're all like that (sarcasm)...

The woman on the radio told me it didn't matter what statistics I could give her, an all woman floor was fine while an all white floor was racist... then she hung up on me.

Face it -- Being a man acting in the essence of man is no longer acceptable. It has given rise to all manner of social discourtesies and petty crimes because most people assume a man won't step up and do what should be done to correct the behavior. And in the cities of this nation, they're largely right.

I'm sure there are some American women left who don't buy into the Oprah ideal of anything with a vagina being too good for anything with a penis unless the penis is in chains and controlled, but I found it easier to look outside the me-centric females here to other countries where a lady expects the door to be held open, finds it romantic if you're jealous, and expects that someone impugning their honor will be dealt with severely.

Wow, Skald. You really set me off, huh?
Posted by Jeff to Skalduggery at June 12, 2007 7:42 PM

Part of the reason for reproducing Jeff's post is because I agree with the content and spirit of the post. What **really sets me off** is the response: "The woman on the radio told me it didn't matter what statistics I could give her, an all woman floor was fine while an all white floor was racist... then she hung up on me."

I heard the same sort of thing during my master's program. My moonbat classmates would categorically reject any statistic that tended to weaken their position and claim statistics could be made to say anything. Of course, this nonsense was only used when the statistic opposed their vision of the world. I'll say here what I said in class in response to the notion that one can make a statistic "say anything":

I disagree on at least a few levels. Part of the reason is pragmatic. If "anyone" can make statistics say what is favorable to their cause, why would any right thinking person bother with doing a statistical analysis, or more important, believe any statistical study? It raised my curiosity when you reported what your stats professor said because later in your post you encouraged smart project managers to prepare "charts and graphics for a presentation to guide and show statistical data."

Supposedly, Benjamin Disraeli said "lies, damned lies, and statistics," a statement Mark Twain popularized by expanding it to "There are three kinds of lies; lies, damned lies, and statistics" (Wiki). Though I find it as humorous as the next, I only agree with it in so far as the statistics are inadvertently or deliberately misused, or the current method doesn't account for a particular model.

If I submit a proposition such as, most red headed Irishmen are taller than 5' 10", collect a valid sample, and discover that in fact the mean is 6'1", the median 5'8", the mode 5'9", and then proceeded to say I was right because the average height of a red headed Irishman is 6'1", then I don't believe I've made statistics say what I want -- I believe I've lied about the statistics. Clearly, since the median is 5'8" (meaning half of all Irishmen are shorter than 5'8") and the mode is 5'9" (the most frequently occurring height), more Irishmen are shorter than 5'10".

I do believe a person can use statistics dishonestly to support a position, but I also believe that is an excellent reason to know how they should be used -- in order to separate mistakes and errors from dishonesty. That is why I would disagree with your stats professor.

'Nuff said. Again, my apologies for screwing up the comments section, but I hope this new software will actually help me manage comments better in the future.

Strength and Honor all.

Men Like Orchids Too

It seems I'm fated to writing assorted essays rather than the nifty posts I find in myriad other places – posts that occasionally make me laugh out loud! Of course, it's difficult not to chuckle at Coffee's rendition of Princess Diana's musings on the subject of boys and girls:

If women could just shed their inhibitions and be completely open, man and woman alike could finally settle onto the same verticle plane — giggity giggity giggity!

The, ummm, "giggity, giggity, giggity!" refers of course to dancing! – Something my Baptist friends assure me is simply a vertical expression of a horizontal desire. I've also heard that "only a man would say something like that." Horse hooey. Actually, what my Baptists friends told me was that making love standing up was verboten because it leads to dancing… Though Princess Diana has a point, I think our great American Poet sees and understands the, uh, root of the matter more clearly:

PAN WITH US

PAN came out of the woods one day,--
His skin and his hair and his eyes were gray,
The gray of the moss of walls were they,--
And stood in the sun and looked his fill
At wooded valley and wooded hill.

He stood in the zephyr, pipes in hand,
On a height of naked pasture land;
In all the country he did command
He saw no smoke and he saw no roof.
That was well! and he stamped a hoof.

His heart knew peace, for none came here
To this lean feeding save once a year
Someone to salt the half-wild steer,
Or homespun children with clicking pails
Who see no little they tell no tales.

He tossed his pipes, too hard to teach
A new-world song, far out of reach,
For a sylvan sign that the blue jay's screech
And the whimper of hawks beside the sun
Were music enough for him, for one.

Times were changed from what they were:
Such pipes kept less of power to stir
The fruited bough of the juniper
And the fragile bluets clustered there
Than the merest aimless breath of air.

They were pipes of pagan mirth,
And the world had found new terms of worth.
He laid him down on the sun-burned earth
And ravelled a flower and looked away–
Play? Play?--What should he play?

Robert Frost in A Boy's Will (1915)

Do we let the male gods die? Is the green-man no longer? The balance of male and female on Beltane is a must! Leaping the fires of May's Eve through to the Maypole celebration simply isn't that obscure. The god and goddess unite in this mythology – I'm reminded of a conversation from The Rock:

John Mason: Are you sure you're ready for this?
Stanley Goodspeed: I'll do my best.
John Mason: Your "best"! Losers always whine about their best. Winners go home and fuck the prom queen.
Stanley Goodspeed: Carla was the prom queen.
John Mason: Really?
Stanley Goodspeed: [cocks his gun] Yeah.

So let us honestly celebrate diversity, especially between the sexes! I'll bore you with some verse (I know, a nasty habit) that celebrates that very thing! This was from a class assignment to twist someone else's poem to my own liking, and I haven't the first idea who's poem I butchered, but here it is:

Beltane's Aftermath

I lie on the
moss-covered forest floor
dappled in moonlight.

Crystalline drops of ecstasy,
attached to your moss-covered mons,
march
across the bridge
of my nose.

Inhaling the musk,
I think about the earth's
revolutions.

Elsewhere,
people are dying.
And I wait,

not impatiently,
for the turning
of the world.

Men… Bad

This is a ridiculously quick post, but I noticed another of Dr. Helen's entries on the marginalization of men…

So the "good advice" for boys has mainly to do with how to handle girls on dates and how to use a kitchen. Apparently, this reviewer's view of good advice for boys is how to turn them into girls!

This is a topic that's been thrown around on this site before, as well as a few other sites. The Coffespy had a book suggestion I think I'll check out:

For the 700th time this year, I'll recommend Throwaway Dads. Not only does it explain why children need fathers, it explains how the United States has allowed the banner of equality, not to be confused with actual equality, to overrun a man's default state and teach him he's wrong for being who he is.

I think this is a topic I'll wind up coming back to… oh… about 700 times.

Truth or Dare and Tithe!

Ahhh, Willamette Valley Vineyards – a wonderful 2004 Riesling I've been saving for, well, drinking at some later date J and today is that later date. Now then, with a couple of glasses of wine the truth of the matter is a little clearer – lucky for me the choice was a Riesling rather than a fruity merlot or some snobbish cabernet variety that's so darn hard to see through…

The truth about what? This comes via Coffeespy's Call to Arms, a multimedia extravaganza concerning the financial straits that the Rightwing Nuthouse is currently navigating. [sigh] If I only had 23 loyal readers to offer! But I do have a baker's dozen… is that thirteen? If I can donate a sawbuck or two so can you [pl.] [evil grin]

Since I've stolen Coffee's poster, because it is kind of cool, I'll also use it to explain the truth about truth. The truth about what? Yup, truth. Pundits like the Coffeespy, Rightwing Nuthouse, and others seem to actually share the knowledge that there is a real, objective, world out there. Moreover, they seem to share the notion that truth can be a property or attribute of a sentence, statement, or proposition. With just a few more steps, we can also reach the idea that there is both good and bad in the world. Dudes and dudettes, Captain America fought against the Nazis because it was the good/right thing to do – the Nazis were an evil regime that was building an evil culture.

While it is "true" that one's enemies rarely view themselves as evil (and sometimes they are not), perception is not the arbiter of truth and good. Comic book writers seem to have a better handle on the common sense notion that there is an objective standard by which we can judge things to be true or false, good or bad. Captain America would not have looked at the cultural practice of "female circumcision" and concluded that it was something to be accepted in the spirit of multiculturalism. For damn sure Wonder Woman would not have! Without an extended discussion of correspondence, coherence, or minimalist theories of truth, the common sense point is easy – one does not "tolerate" vile or evil behavior for the sake of "can't we all just get along?"

Wow, that was a bit much… nahhh. Now go drop your tithe in the Rightwing Nuthouse J

No Excuses, I Am Better Than That

To the left you’ll see my avatar as my daughters, wife, and friends see him – and apparently, even the Coffeespy has found me out! To the right, as part of my banner column, you’ll see a much more accurate rendition of der Skald’s fierce visage… based on, hmmm, in fact, I have this mirror hanging on my wall, and ummm, the reflection is a true image of my, umm, imagination’s imagining my true self, and umm, SEE?

Although the hair is gone and the beard is mostly white, this is a pretty fair representation of... aww, crap. OK, so the guy on the left is more like me than I care to admit, i.e., I love my wife, I love my daughters, I love a good meal, a good mead, and not quite like Volstagg, I like a good fight :-)!

Now then, as soon as I get Coffeespy's boot out of my ass, I'll have another post ready to challenge one's sense of truth... in vino veritas! So pop a cork on your favorite grape or honey, and we'll get down to business.

Comics!

The Coffeespy's blend of current events and comics - well, rocks! It's more than a little fun, and you should drop by and take in the Edwards' and Sheehan's noodling.

After Memorial Day

First, my apologies for letting this languish for a week. With that out of the way, and having celebrated Memorial Day by taking off for the weekend, I was somewhat taken aback by another pundit suggesting we bring back the draft. My response is easy: ABSOLUTELY NOT.

I like the all volunteer force. I like knowing that the soldiers and sailors serving in the armed forces chose to serve their country. After reading and listening to a few odds and ends I find myself appalled by some of the sentiments masquerading around our country as noble! For example, right before Memorial Day I saw a bumper sticker that said "He's not MY president." Now that is another one that deserves the "horseshit" moniker. While serving in the armed forces, one of the presidents I served under was Bill Clinton, a president I wasn't entirely glad to have in charge… especially as my Commander in Chief since he frequently failed to offer the simplest of military courtesies to those who served him honorably. Know what? He was MY president. After the vote was tallied, OUR country had made their choice, WE had a new president.

I like the all volunteer force. I like knowing that the soldiers and sailors serving in the armed forces chose to serve their country. By mutual consent, OUR country's citizenry agree to be governed by those selected via the exercise of OUR franchise. So, when some chubby little Dixie Chick says that veterans are not fighting for or defending her, I don't have a real problem saying that she's an ethical moron. When you eat a steak, you have the same moral standing as the butcher. When you participate in a REPRESENTATIVE democracy, you have the same moral standing as those who represent you.

I like the all volunteer force. I like knowing that the soldiers and sailors serving in the armed forces chose to serve their country. I especially like the way Robert Heinlein put it:

No state has an inherent right to survive through conscript troops and in the long run, no state ever has. Roman matrons used to say to their sons: "Come back with your shield, or on it." Later on, this custom declined. So did Rome.

We deserve to lose our freedoms when our citizens are no longer willing to defend them. I like the all volunteer force. I am more than proud of my father's, my daughters', my family's, and my friends' (you all know who you are) service to country, I honor them and their brothers and sisters in arms.

Both Sides of the Fence

In the book "The Tao of Pooh" by Benjamin Hoff, I read something that was really cool:

An Empty sort of mind is valuable for finding pearls and tails and things because it can see what's in front of it. An Overstuffed mind is unable to. While the Clear mind listens to a bird singing, the Stuffed-Full-of-Knowledge-and-Cleverness mind wonders what kind of bird is singing. The more Stuffed Up it is, the less it can hear through its own ears and see through its own eyes. Knowledge and Cleverness tend to concern themselves with wrong sorts of things, and a mind confused by Knowledge,Cleverness and Abstract Ideas tends to go chasing off after things that don't matter, or that don't even exist, instead of seeing, appreciating, and making use of what is right in front of it.

Let's consider Emptiness in general for a moment. What is it about a Taoist landscape painting that seems so refreshing to so many different kinds of people? The Emptiness, the space that's not filled in. What is it about fresh snow, clean air, pure water? Or good music? As Claude Debussy expressed it, "Music is the space between notes."

… Many people are afraid of Emptiness, however, because it reminds them of Loneliness. Everything has to be filled in, it seems – appointment books, hillsides, vacant lots – but when all the spaces are filled, the Loneliness really begins. Then the Groups are joined, the Classes are signed up for, and the Gift-to-Yourself items are bought. When the Loneliness starts creeping in the door, the Television Set is turned on to make it go away. But it doesn't go away. So some of us do instead, and after discarding the emptiness of the Big Congested Mess, we discover the fullness of Nothing (Hoff, 1982, p. 146-147).

I prefer Classical music over most "Lyrical" music because Classical music allows my mind to wander and take a break, whereas Lyrical music tells me where to wander. Sometimes being told where to go (don't go there Skald) is OK, but I'm too busy as is. My mind needs a break, let it roam with my imagination! Also, in my photographs I tend not to clutter my compositions, I try to express openness, freedom, area to travel, wonder...etc. Here is one of my favorite pictures to help express the meaning of "Both Sides of the Fence" Where some only see a fence, I see What is on both sides of the fence. What side of the fence would you rather be on? The right or the left? The congested side or the side with more room to maneuver? I jumped the fence (caught my pants on the barbs as it happens in life too when you choose a different side) and found a huge, new, vast countryside to roam, explore, and appreciate.

Chapter 18. THE DECAY OF ETHICS

Since I'm off to bed, I figure I'll share another piece of the Tao te Ching:

When the way of the Tao is forgotten,
kindness and ethics need to be taught;
men learn to pretend to be wise and good.
All too often in the lives of men,
filial piety and devotion
arise only after conflict and strife,
just as loyal ministers all too often appear,
when the people are suppressed.

Motorcycle Zen

Not long ago I described a fun flat on my Harley. I managed to damage the rear wheel and rim in addition to shredding the tire – kind of a spendy repair. The shop was able to true the wheel and knock the kinks out of the rim (hallelujah!). I replaced the old rubber, front and rear, with beautifully scribed whitewalls. The ride home was circuitous, allowing time for the Harley mind-meld – that great place where rider and scooter are one… think Caddy Shack, and well, **BE the bike.** My Harley is often helpful in ways other than one might expect. It keeps me from running away from home, from going postal, from just choking the life out of people who disagree with me J

I suppose there are several reasons to mention "just being." Part of it is associated with Winnie-the-Pooh, another part with the Te of Piglet and the Tao of Pooh. In the Tao of Pooh we learn the importance of just being, Pooh just is. In the Te of Piglet we learn about something essential to the Tao – Virtue. This is a virtue that is partly reflected in the Judeo-Christian idea that "as a man thinks in his heart, so is he." The Chinese character can be written two ways according to Benjamin Hoff; one way combines the characters for both "upright" and "heart." "The second way adds the character for 'left-foot,'" Te, or virtue in action.

Why even mention this? Primarily because some new age freaks want to make these ideas mean something other than what they are. These ideas do not deny reality or claim that our thoughts create our reality – that somehow our minds conjure matter. This continual fascination with "best-case scenarios," "positive thinking," and "creative visualization" is becoming a serious obstacle to sensible people. WE NEED OUR EYORES!!! Someone needed to say, "Maybe they won't greet us as liberators." Somebody needed to explore the worst-case.

OK, apart from my gratuitous jab at the administration, the point is that we can't simply "think" our future into existence – we must interact with our REAL environment. We need to DO. We are in Iraq; we need to finish the job. Remember the Goddess Nike? "Just do it." Again, why even mention this? OPRAH WINFREY is why even mentioning this seems prudent. John Gravois of Slate Magazine has a must read article at the previous link. Slate is soliciting anecdotal accounts of when negative thinking, "a healthy dose of pessimism," or envisioning the worst has helped you. Let's send these to Oprah via Slate to illustrate just how dangerous "The Secret" is, and as a result, take steps to prevent the same kind of errant nonsense associated with Christian Scientists refusing medical attention for themselves and their children. Like trying to convince the liberal left, it is extremely difficult to use facts to elicit change in people who deny reality, and "The Secret" advocates essentially that – reality bites, think it away.

Mmmm, maybe I've gone too far… nahhhh.

A Double Murder Relegated to Shades of Grey

Coffeespy tells a story of a horrific double murder that received little to no national media coverage. The story is compelling and it is worth the trip to Coffee's site for his commentary as well as the links to other pundits' positions on the murder and its lack of coverage. Even Wikipedia is keeping a page updated on this unfolding case. The Wiki article links to several examples of black on white murder in which the mainstream media (MSM) fails to report as is typically covered when the crime is white on black. Each of (Ken Tillery murder) these (The Wichita Massacre) articles (James Byrd murder) should be used as a backdrop that makes it clear Mark Alexander from the Patriot Post is absolutely right when he says:

This appalling attack is more than a case study in sociopathic evil. It is also a case study in journalistic malpractice.

I realize I've listed a few links, but they are worth the read – if only to fill out a more complete picture - NOT of the heinousness of the murders, but rather of the MSM's malpractice. Considering the hoopla generated by Imus, the Duke Lacrosse players, and several other instances of MSM "vigilance" and reporting "important breaking news," it seems this double murder might have received a passing nod…

Coffee et al already make the important points about "hate crimes," lack of coverage, etc., but there is another element I believe is noteworthy. It is most easily introduced by comments made at Snopes.com in their article covering this double murder. The writers first reproduce the email describing the murders (as is their SOP), and then proceed to debunk/comment. Normally, I truly like the product at Snopes; however, this particular article over reaches the evidence it provides in the email. It seems appropriate to use similar methods

Some commentators (as cited in the [email]…) have made much of the fact that the bulk of the news reportage about the Newsom/Christian murders has been Local (predominantly in Tennessee, where the crimes took place, and in neighboring Kentucky), while the case has received Little or no national coverage by major news outlets — a phenomenon attributed to supposedly biased news media loath to report black-on-white crime. (Both Christian and Newsom were white: all five of the suspects arrested in connection with their killings are black.)

However, the notion that every major news outlet in the U.S. (all of them competitive, profit-making businesses) has conspired to ignore what would otherwise be a compelling national story is rather implausible. A more rational explanation might be found in the sober observation that murders — even decidedly horrific murders — are unfortunately too frequent an occurrence in the U.S. for all of them to garner national attention. The cases that do tend to attract prolonged, nationwide coverage are ones exhibiting a combination of factors (e.g., scandal, mystery, sexual elements, celebrity involvement, shockingly large numbers of deaths, victims who especially elicit sympathy) that make them particularly fascinating and compelling to the public at large, such as the still-unsolved murder of 6-year-old beauty queen JonBenet Ramsey, the mysterious disappearance (and death) of pregnant Laci Peterson, the massacre of 32 students and faculty at Virginia Tech, and the celebrity trial to determine whether actress Lana Clarkson committed suicide or was killed by reclusive record producer Phil Spector.

I don't have a clue who originated the email, but Snopes is utterly disingenuous in their comments. After acknowledging that there was indeed little to no national coverage and and after reporting that the email writer and other pundits (none cited in the email) blame the lack of coverage on media bias, Snopes then states that a national conspiracy of media outlets is "rather implausible." The email nowhere suggests that "every major news outlet in the U.S. has conspired" to do anything. In fact, conspiracy of any sort is not suggested. Then of course, by implication Snopes suggests that anyone believing the conspiracy their writers create must be irrational, because a more rational explanation is… It is so much fun to pound the stuffing out of straw men!

The Laci Peterson murder, though horrible, simply wasn't as horrific. Since it seems we must compare the shock value, let's compare it to something that is actually "comparable." For example, it seems that if three rich white college men get accused of gang raping a black woman it IS all about race, and of course, there is an attendant media blitzkrieg. On the other hand, if four black men and one black woman get accused of gang rape, torture, mutilate, and ultimately murder two white kids it IS NOT about race, and of course, it doesn't merit the media blitz. That particular Snopes article was extraordinarily disappointing.

The question remains. Was it media bias? Excluding all "conspiracy theories," was it bias? Let me repeat a comment I heard made on CNN's Paula Zahn. Asked directly about black prejudice/bigotry, the guest made it plain that it is simply impossible for blacks to be bigots because they lack power. What errant nonsense. I think Thomas Sowell is right, there is a media bias and it is a result of a serious Conflict of Visions. We are in a serious situation, one that is not easily resolved.

Thomas Sowell has been reviled as a race traitor, but his books indicate otherwise. His commentaries on race, race relations, political struggle, and political philosophy are remarkable. In his book The Vision of the Anointed: Self-Congratulation As a Basis for Social Policy, he provides a much needed bit of clear headedness. He makes it clear we're making mistakes that are not unique to us:

In earlier eras as well, many individuals foresaw the self-destruction of their own civilizations, from the days of the Roman Empire to the eras of the Spanish, Ottoman, and other empires. Yet that alone was not enough to change the course that was leading to ruin. Today, despite free speech and the mass media, the prevailing social vision is dangerously close to sealing itself off from any discordant feedback from reality (Sowell, 1995).

If you don't think our problems with race and race relations aren't every bit as serious as the war or global warming… think again friend, this is another problem that needs addressing in a meaningful and realistic fashion.

Primordial Soup

My family and I took a trip to the Oregon Coast Aquarium, and the photos... When I saw this jellyfish, it left me with what you might call the spirit of Carl Sagan's Cosmos series... Something straight out of the primordial soup.

Which Superhero are YOU?

Just a quick note today. My daughter currently serving in Iraq sent me a fun survey that determines your makeup in terms of superhero-hood. As it turns out, I'm mostly my favorite superhero... THE HULK! My daughter is mostly Supergirl.

Anyway, see the bottom of this page for the link - have fun!

Knowing, Nike, Perfection, and Just Doing It

So I'm motoring down Hwy 99W on my Harley, enjoying a perfect day for riding – (though yesterday was more perfect J, yes, there is an inside joke there) – when suddenly the rear end of the scooter goes into a skid toward oncoming traffic. Well, the old sphincter puckers, I muscle a turn into the skid and apply the front brakes and accelerate to right slide, and it works way too well and I'm now skidding toward the right shoulder. I pretty much do the same thing again, i.e., turn into the skid, and since there is no oncoming traffic, there is no need to apply front brake and accelerate to enhance the correction. I fishtail out of danger, slow, come to stop on the shoulder. I HATE controlling skids on a motorcycle, especially when the rear end just does not behave like it should!

I've been riding motorcycles for a large portion of my fifty years, and I've never had an explosive flat on the rear tire before today. So that's why the rear end behaved so poorly <blink, blink>. After five or ten minutes my sphincter un-puckered enough to let go of the seat, I started breathing, and either my heart finally started beating again or it simply slowed down. My perfect day was no longer, but I did spend the night in…

That wasn't a sea story, and unfortunately, I have a rear tire to repair this weekend. It is however a story that exemplifies the kinds of experience I not only tend to enjoy (in hindsight), but also helps to explain my fascination with philosophy, religion, and just generally being contrary. Danger that brushes up against my mortality spurs me on to re-examinations of my beliefs. Today, it brought to mind a conversation Gravebinder and I had earlier in the day on the nature of perfection. Though we disagreed on the nature of perfection, the conversation raised certain flags for me concerning epistemology – elements of that branch of philosophy I thought I had quite settled…

I realize that to most people understanding the nature of knowledge, i.e., what it is, how it is acquired, and what people actually know is beyond boring. In fact, most people probably disdain the study of any of the five major branches of philosophy, but it does provide foundational material for conversations on the nature of perfection… I mean really, can some perfect thing become "more" perfect? Is the answer to the question obvious? It's a conversation that occurs in philosophy, religion, and BUSINESS, GOVERNMENT, ETC! Nifty, hey?

Maybe I'll just stick with poetry and politics and not be concerned with how I know about these subjects <grin> of course, process is important and perhaps Nike is right:

The Goddess Nike On Performance Anxiety

Her lover said:

Tell me how, tell me where
Tell me when, talk me through
And tell me you came too

Tell me that I know how
To put that look upon your face
That in any other time or place
People would confuse with pain

She said:

Don’t talk unless you talk hard
Don’t ask unless you wanna know
The answers that I have, but oh!

God, don’t tell me what or how and when
But God! Just whisper. Then moan!
Sweet Jesus! Then groan!
Don’t talk, don’t stop, but oh God, Just Do It!

Introducing...

I haven't set my brother up as part of the blogging team yet. It requires a trip to his place. Since he can't access the comments for some reason, I'll post his comments as they show up:

Isn't it great how many outlets we have to express ourselves? Skald has his philosophy, poetry, music, and photography. I have photography and humor. I've never been good with words so I'll let my photos do the talking. Never really good at telling jokes so I'll stick to Puns and/or just being a SmartA$$! It makes me laugh!

Later,
Atilla the Pun

Hmmm, he also has woodworking, archery, and being a general freakin' artisan. ;-) It will definitely all be fun.

Tall Tales and Progressives in Action

There is a tradition in the sea service that makes it clear a fairy tale begins with "Once upon a time…" and a sea story begins with "This is a no-shitter," or "This ain't no shit…" Sailors are renowned for their sea stories! So, this is a no-shitter, dude:

I have a family of nine, my wife, myself, and 7 kids. I have a small arsenal because I believe I should be able to not only defend myself (and family), but also those who are unable to defend themselves. Comes a day and my family gets to defend our neighbors. They were attacked by a group of four gangbangers, and my eldest heard the first shot. I armed myself, my wife, and three of my children. My three eldest and I went to our neighbor's aid. During the fracas, two of my children were killed, my neighbor's wife was killed and two of his children injured, and we killed two of the attackers and subdued the other two for the authorities.

In keeping with a democrat's notion of "restorative justice," adjudication fell out in the following manner:

• The two surviving gangbangers were released on their own recognizance, but ultimately, both were put on probation. However, they filed a civil suit against my family for damages and suffering. We had to pay to rehabilitate the offenders.
  
• My neighbor's injuries were taken care of by their own insurance and a reparations fund from the county.
  
• My family, after paying for the rehab of the offenders, lost a substantial portion of our life savings. Additionally, 75 years later, my family was required to pay compensation to my surviving neighbors and their descendants for the crimes of the gangbangers.
  

Sounds like a tall tale? Sound like a sea story? Sounds like one of those infamous no-shitters? Sort of, kind of, well not exactly. Nope. Hat tip to Michelle Malkin for the link to Gateway Pundit's stellar info on the "Dems Offering Reparations to Guam For Japanese War Crimes." Please take the time to read it – follow the links, and check out the cost. If it doesn't stir your blood, then you need an abdopleximy. What's that? An abdopleximy is a special surgery that installs a piece of Plexiglas into your abdomen so you can see where in the world you're going with your head so far up your ass. I'm only marginally contrite for the off-color language… it seemed, somehow aproposJ!

Photos and Poetry

It’s a Saturday, and lest someone think me all business and no pleasure, I’ll share some more of my brother’s photography. I’ll share parts of the conversation and ideas behind the photos too, as these activities are – well, a pleasure. Now then, this first photo… well, I don’t know a thing about the photo. My brother sent it along with a couple others and said, “Check this one out too.”

No title, but I liked the photo, so for now, until LittleBro gives it a title, it’s called “Wooden Sky.” Enjoy!

UPDATE: Attila the Pun titles this photo "Eave'ning"

Now this second photo does have a title, and it’s a title that reflects what my brother saw when he took the photo. “As Foundations Crumble” and the alternate “Golden Years, Out to Pasture” inspired a conversation worth having. It also conjured up a poem I wrote for my “number three daughter” on her graduation. Here’s the photo and the poem.


January 6, 2005: Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow

For my daughter, on her eighteenth,
Looking forward to graduation.

There we were, your Mom and I,
eighteen years on the other side of yesterday
watching and waiting for you to arrive.

Astonishing! You — determined to be,
your Mother — determined to hold,
I — determined to watch

you slip out; face up, an angel’s kiss
upon your forehead, and clearing your lungs —
you were the life in our daughter’s cry.

The days, the weeks, the years crept by —
you crawled, you toddled, stumbled and walked —
you were the meaning in your first words.

We watched you take deep breaths,
blow your heart across an instrument,
and God, you were the music in your flute.

You pursued everything that seemed to make you smile,
music to marching, to flag waving, to cheering, and on
to being the passion in your dance.

Now, here we are, your Mom and I,
eighteen years on the other side of your birth,
wanting only joy in your life, meaning in your

pursuits, music in your celebrations, and the magic of passion —
passion for everything you do, everyone you love — so that you,
looking back from eighteen years on the other side of tomorrow,

will be soothed to sleep, by a life well lived,
and burrow deep into the summer of your beginning,
when you thought you had forever.


Here’s hoping I haven’t lost what little readership I have as a result of the poetry. I know some feel as Robert Heinlein feels, “A poet who reads his verse in public may have other nasty habits.” it’s true, I have other nasty habits ;-)

Patriot Games?

The Kansas City Star, The Washington Times, and The Chicago Tribune seem to be reporting on the estimable Senator Reid and his penchant for spreading athlete’s tongue. It seems a Senator might want to pay closer attention to his own comments than Rosie O’Donnell pays to her own blather. Now I realize this is old news, but the more I’ve read – the more it chapped my… irritated me. What’s more appalling to me are those citizens who bad mouth their country to foreign nationals, or spew the vilest of hate about their country of choice while maintaining their citizenship. For example:.

Not long ago I met a 70-year-old man who lived on a boat at the local marina. He had sailed the world's oceans for many years, and he hated America. He hated the music, the money, the television, the government; but most of all, he hated the people. In his opinion Americans were selfish and ignorant. After all, they enjoyed a social system called capitalism. America was therefore composed of a nation of thieves, polluters and economic imperialists (Nyquist, 2000).

I mention these tidbits, in part to raise your ire, but also to channel it into a small piece of a poem by Sir Walter Scott. It’s The Lay of the Last Minstrel, in the last canto of the poem. Though it is a small piece of the poem, I admire the skill with which Scott makes his point. Make no mistake, I loved Ivanhoe, but this, to use a new word with new meaning, is sublime:

Breathes there the man, with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land!
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd,
As home his footsteps he hath turn'd,
From wandering on a foreign strand!
If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
For him no Minstrel raptures swell;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust, from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonor'd, and unsung. (The Lay of the Last Minstrel, Sir Walter Scott)

Indeed Senator, any songs of honor will be sung to those men and women in uniform you so callously cast off and apparently attempt to silence. What do I mean? Take a trip over to Michelle Malkin’s initial post concerning the Army crackdown on milbloggers and email and then read the follow up where a soldier asks, “Who will stand up for the rights of soldiers? Fight for us. We fight for you.” … Let’s be selective in our choices of leaders – Republican, Democrat, or otherwise.

School’s Out!

Blossom of the Sky: LittleBro (2007)

It is finished! The monograph, the thesis challenge, and the final class all are finished! The Skald is done with the master's program. This is mostly a note to say that, yes, I survived, and that I'll be spending a little more time keeping this online rag a little more up to date. I've a ton of junk in the trunk for offbeat punditry, but for now, I'm DONE!

Before I sign off for this evening, I'd like to introduce my brother and a little of his artistry. He hasn't chosen a moniker yet, so for the time being, it's LittleBro. He is one hell of a photographer and is just itching for a place to share his work. Were I a studio, I'd display his work, so the shot above is a taste of something different. Look forward to more.

Men Without Chests, Cowardice, and Virtues

Christopher Hitchens, in the first article of a series of three, rages against and castigates the very likes of God and religion. These articles are excerpts from his new book, God Is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything. I can't help it, I like the guy. He's an obnoxious iconoclast – but he THINKS. Can't say that I agree with him on any of a number of things, but there are several elements of this first installment that I do agree with. However, like one of the respondents, not only is there plenty to disagree with, there is much about religion that has produced some of the best in humanity. "When atheism becomes as intolerant as fanatical religion," perhaps it's time to take a step back and watch what spews out of one's mouth. I believe the respondent had the right of it:

…just because religion is conducive to intolerance and bloodlust, Hitchens the belligerent warmonger proves that atheism is no guarantee of benevolence. Certainly Stalin and Mao found other ideologies to justify their appetite for destruction.

Trotskyite that he is, I'm certain Hitchens will excuse atheism and blame the evil Stalin and his perversion of an ideology… mmm, what's that? Hitchens Is Not Great: How People Poison Ideologies.

Blech.

Why the commentary on Mr. Hitchens? Because he attempts to marginalize another, much more humble person I admire. C.S. Lewis wrote The Abolition of Man to address a subject that my friend over at The Coffeespy and a friend at work have knocked around. To use Lewis's phrase, we in the West are raising "Men Without Chests." This discussion might seem a little convoluted, but please, bear with me here – it will come right in the end.

Lewis performs a critical analysis of a school text book as launching off point for a defense of objective values, what he in shorthand, calls the Tao. Throughout the book he uses principles from the Tao, but as he makes clear, this is a word he is using to represent more than the Chinese concept:

The Chinese also speak of a great thing (the greatest thing) called the Tao. It is the reality beyond all predicates, the abyss that was before the Creator Himself. It is Nature, it is the Way, the Road. It is the Way in which the universe goes on, the Way in which things everlastingly emerge, stilly and tranquilly, into space and time. It is also the Way which every man should tread in imitation of that cosmic and super cosmic progression, conforming all activities to that great exemplar.¹⁷ 'In ritual', say the Analects, 'it is harmony with Nature that is prized.'¹⁸ The ancient Jews likewise praise the Law as being 'true'.¹⁹

This conception in all its forms, Platonic, Aristotelian, Stoic, Christian, and Oriental alike, I shall henceforth refer to for brevity simply as 'the Tao' (Columbia's put the book online).

Where Lewis uses a text book on literature to demonstrate that modern man is losing the understanding that there is a real objective value system, I would quote a single passage from the actual Tao. However, before I do, one of his examples is straightforward; the notion that a particular vista is sublime. The literature textbook tries to inculcate in the student that this simply means one has sublime feelings about the scene in question. Lewis, rightly, identifies that as an absurdity. If a person were describing his feelings, then certainly the sentence might start "That makes me feel…"

"That vista makes me feel sublime." First, sublime means "so awe-inspiringly beautiful as to seem almost heavenly" (Encarta). It's an adjective not a feeling. Lewis rightly points out that the emotions one experiences are virtually opposite of the descriptor itself. If one says an ocean view is sublime, it is not because one feels awe-inspiringly beautiful – the emotional correlative is veneration or humility. The scene inspires AWE. More than that, one is saying that the scene is worthy of veneration. Through a long, but entertaining and educational argument, Lewis connects this codswollop to the death of courage as virtue, in fact, to the death of the civic and cardinal virtues.

Now then, the easy way is the way, in the Tao:

When the Tao is lost, there is goodness.

When goodness is lost, there is morality.

When morality is lost, there is ritual.

Ritual is the husk of true faith,

The beginning of chaos (Tao te Ching, #38).

Our culture progresses into idiocy for lack of that central organ in man, the chest, which is atrophied by the very cowards who cut their own hearts out. Lewis reminds us that "the head rules the belly through the chest." The head representing our reason, the belly our appetites, and the chest – "The Chest-Magnanimity-Sentiment—these are the indispensable liaison officers between cerebral man and visceral man. It may even be said that it is by this middle element that man is man: for by his intellect he is mere spirit and by his appetite mere animal" (Lewis, 1943).

I love poetry, especially poetry that inspires awe, celebrates courage, fidelity, loyalty, and so many other virtues associated with the chivalric code. Most recognize Tennyson's noble 600 in the Charge of the Light Brigade, and sometimes people recognize at least a part of Ulysses. Each celebrates various virtues. Lewis finds the fact that these authors of the literature textbook are called intellectuals intolerable:

The operation of The Green Book [the literature textbook] and its kind is to produce what may be called Men without Chests. It is an outrage that they should be commonly spoken of as Intellectuals. This gives them the chance to say that he who attacks them attacks Intelligence. It is not so. They are not distinguished from other men by any unusual skill in finding truth nor any virginal ardour to pursue her. Indeed it would be strange if they were: a persevering devotion to truth, a nice sense of intellectual honour, cannot be long maintained without the aid of a sentiment which Gaius and Titius [the authors] could debunk as easily as any other. It is not excess of thought but defect of fertile and generous emotion that marks them out. Their heads are no bigger than the ordinary: it is the atrophy of the chest beneath that makes them seem so.

And all the time—such is the tragi-comedy of our situation—we continue to clamour for those very qualities we are rendering impossible. You can hardly open a periodical without coming across the statement that what our civilization needs is more 'drive', or dynamism, or self-sacrifice, or 'creativity'. In a sort of ghastly simplicity we remove the organ and demand the function. We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honour and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful (Lewis, 1943).

I've spent too much time harping on a pet peeve. I've been reading books on the CIA, John and Robert Kennedy of late, and I think they were perhaps the last of the liberal Democrats I admired. RFK seemed to recognize the decay CS Lewis identified and set on our dinner tables. RFK's "philosophy, which he urged on others and truly tried to live by himself, was: we may be doomed, but each man must define himself anew each day by his own actions" (Thomas, 2000, p. 22). I think we'd find far fewer traitors in our midst should we define ourselves anew each day by our actions. I'm a retired sailor, so I'll sign off with a final note from Ulysses:

Push off, and sitting well in order smite

The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds

To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths

Of all the western stars, until I die.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Progressives Like Road Apples

Just for fun.

I don't think it's a secret that, well, I'm somewhat neo-conservative-libertarian-etc. It isn't that it's terribly important, but I wouldn't want anyone to think I was so incredibly naïve as to think law, order, & justice are somehow dispensed in a non-partisan fashion. Whether one wants to acknowledge it or not, law & order comes in distinctly republican, democrat(ic), and even libertarian flavors. Maybe it shouldn't, but it does… but c'mon, partisan math??

Remember the post concerning political correctness and Indoctrinate U? In the video trailer a young lady relates her surprise at discovering the political dimensions of say… biochemistry. I know, the point should be easy.

If we take a vote from a population of 9, and regardless of what we are voting on, a 5:4 vote is a simple majority. Now if it was 7:2 majority, one might be inclined to say it was decisive. OK… yes, I'm talking about the Supreme Court. It seems there are an awful lot of 5:4 decisions, and I would agree with CNN's characterization of the court as "sharply divided" concerning a recent decision on the so called "partial birth abortions," or as doctors like to call it "intact dilation and evacuation" (IDX). Five votes to four – yeah, I'd call that sharply divided.

In Farts and Greenhouse Gases I may have been a little snarky concerning some of the reporting, but I didn't mention much about the fact that several news outlets characterized the Supreme Court's decision in this case as being "a stinging defeat for the Bush administration," or as CNN stated, the court "left no doubt that it finds the Bush administration's response to global warming inadequate."

Hey, Yahoos! It's a sharply divided court again you learning impaired, three sandwich eating (no wait, I'm the three sandwich eater)… remember the 5:4 descriptor CNN? Houston Chronicle, and the rest…

ahhh, never mind, this is just a bunch of horse, ummm, pooh-pooh. Guess that might sound a little snarky (yet another new word this old fart learned online), and it was supposed to sound a little snarky… I was feeding the progressives ;-)