One of my favorite guests in recent memory on "The Daily Show" was Rosalyn Carter, who appeared in the May 4th, 2010 episode. She is a stalwart advocate of the mentally ill and tried to persuade Jon to become involved as an investigative journalist on behalf of mental health issues. Her biography on Wikipedia is impressive. She sat in on Cabinet Meetings in the White House.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Get Them on Camera
Another film maker has captured the face of homophobia on camera, documenting the money trail from the Mormon Church to the passage of Proposition 8, which banned gay marriage in California. Capturing the homophobes on camera creates a record that will damn them for all time. It will help historians in the task of assigning of blame and praise when describing our era.
The state senator pictured in the above article, described as a "proud homophobe," should be in the dictionary right beside the word "homophobe." They are not easy on the eyes, to say the least.
The state senator pictured in the above article, described as a "proud homophobe," should be in the dictionary right beside the word "homophobe." They are not easy on the eyes, to say the least.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Signposts
One of the problems that faced gay youth in former decades was the lack of signposts in our society. Growing up, there didn't seem to be much of a future. There were few or no role models. Marriage was not an option and still is not in most states. All teachers at school either professed to be or were straight, or else never alluded to their love lives, leaving it an unmentionable mystery. A student could get a detention just for asking! As for the other students, everyone referred to gays as "fags," and their understanding of it, if any deeper than the label itself, went no further than the sex acts, described in the crudest manner. To make matters worse, homosexuality was associated with AIDS and death. "GAY" stood for "Got Aids Yet?", a formula recited by millions of schoolchildren the world over. Of course, no one at Church was gay! That goes without saying. Homosexuality was never mentioned from the pulpit in either a positive or a negative way.
The local newspaper occasionally mentioned the subject, but only in the context of crime: man rapes boy; undercover officer arrests homosexual in public bathroom or park; young men tie up and rob homosexual lawyer, who reports the crime only to be exposed as a homosexual in the newspaper. Sometimes the paper printed right-wing editorials that characterized homosexuals as every conceivable type of villain imaginable. My blood used to boil reading those editorials, because I knew they were outrageously unfair. Sometimes I wrote a letter to the editor to complain about it, but I was never bold enough to sign my own name, being a teenager at the time. I was sure it would get me in trouble somehow. The newspaper never published my letters anyway.
My letters tended to be discarded without response, whether I was writing to the newspaper, a magazine, or to the man who wrote a weekly column in our paper. In the last case, however, I remember writing a letter arguing in the most passionate terms for the inclusion of young gay men in the military. This time, I wrote in longhand, without a computer, to make it more personal, and signed the letter with my name. I said that I myself was eighteen years old, six feet tall, of sound mind and body, strong and brave and ready to die to defend my country. How can anyone deny me the right to serve my country? He did not respond, and I thought my effort was wasted. However, ten years later, he wrote in his column in favor of gays in the military. I think my letter may have had a delayed impact. Sometimes one plants a seed, and long does it take to root and grow. But all that I had written was true. I did not say anything that I did not believe in with all my soul. When one writes the truth, it carries great weight among those that are capable of discerning truth from falsehood. Never forget this. It is to the credit of good people, because they speak the truth. Evil-doers must lie, because it is their nature, but they will be discovered.
In many cases, I later learned that the most outspoken homophobes were themselves closeted homosexuals, which filled me with a sense of sadness and irony. Why would they betray their own kind? Homophobia was a common kind of self-hate. The men most likely to tolerate homosexuals were the ones that were popular with women and completely comfortable with their heterosexuality. A heterosexual man is pleased to find that there is less competition for females. Only the men that were uncertain about their sexual preference felt they had something to prove. They were the ones that wrote slander against homosexuals in newspapers and magazines.
My parents excluded all adult gays from their society, so I was never exposed to productive, mature, working adult gays. The lack of signposts are a negative influence upon gay youth. For my part, I fell in with criminal elements, the drop-outs and outcasts of our society, because I felt that I must be one too. There was a sense of kinship, of shared destiny. I rather wish there had been signposts, visible guides that demonstrated for me an obtainable future. Censorship, repression, and bullying did not help. Instead, they reinforced a sense that I was different, possibly bad.
I am not sure that the right-wingers really understand the benefits that will trickle down to everyone. Their view of human nature tends to be rather paranoid and punitive. Despite the kicking and screaming of the right-wingers, we are becoming a more human society, more genuine and closer to the heart. The changes that have come about in this country in the area of gay rights so far have been encouraging and signs of positive growth for our society. There will be many that lead happier and more productive lives as a result. A stronger nation will result. No one ever wanted sexuality to be a political issue. I would prefer my love life to be private and of no consequence. When confronted with systematic injustice, politicization becomes a necessity. We have other issues of great importance to confront, and by no means is homosexuality the final frontier. There is also poverty, disease, war, and the environment. But having a more enlightened approach to homosexuality helps. It is one more brick placed into the foundation of a sane society.
The local newspaper occasionally mentioned the subject, but only in the context of crime: man rapes boy; undercover officer arrests homosexual in public bathroom or park; young men tie up and rob homosexual lawyer, who reports the crime only to be exposed as a homosexual in the newspaper. Sometimes the paper printed right-wing editorials that characterized homosexuals as every conceivable type of villain imaginable. My blood used to boil reading those editorials, because I knew they were outrageously unfair. Sometimes I wrote a letter to the editor to complain about it, but I was never bold enough to sign my own name, being a teenager at the time. I was sure it would get me in trouble somehow. The newspaper never published my letters anyway.
My letters tended to be discarded without response, whether I was writing to the newspaper, a magazine, or to the man who wrote a weekly column in our paper. In the last case, however, I remember writing a letter arguing in the most passionate terms for the inclusion of young gay men in the military. This time, I wrote in longhand, without a computer, to make it more personal, and signed the letter with my name. I said that I myself was eighteen years old, six feet tall, of sound mind and body, strong and brave and ready to die to defend my country. How can anyone deny me the right to serve my country? He did not respond, and I thought my effort was wasted. However, ten years later, he wrote in his column in favor of gays in the military. I think my letter may have had a delayed impact. Sometimes one plants a seed, and long does it take to root and grow. But all that I had written was true. I did not say anything that I did not believe in with all my soul. When one writes the truth, it carries great weight among those that are capable of discerning truth from falsehood. Never forget this. It is to the credit of good people, because they speak the truth. Evil-doers must lie, because it is their nature, but they will be discovered.
In many cases, I later learned that the most outspoken homophobes were themselves closeted homosexuals, which filled me with a sense of sadness and irony. Why would they betray their own kind? Homophobia was a common kind of self-hate. The men most likely to tolerate homosexuals were the ones that were popular with women and completely comfortable with their heterosexuality. A heterosexual man is pleased to find that there is less competition for females. Only the men that were uncertain about their sexual preference felt they had something to prove. They were the ones that wrote slander against homosexuals in newspapers and magazines.
My parents excluded all adult gays from their society, so I was never exposed to productive, mature, working adult gays. The lack of signposts are a negative influence upon gay youth. For my part, I fell in with criminal elements, the drop-outs and outcasts of our society, because I felt that I must be one too. There was a sense of kinship, of shared destiny. I rather wish there had been signposts, visible guides that demonstrated for me an obtainable future. Censorship, repression, and bullying did not help. Instead, they reinforced a sense that I was different, possibly bad.
I am not sure that the right-wingers really understand the benefits that will trickle down to everyone. Their view of human nature tends to be rather paranoid and punitive. Despite the kicking and screaming of the right-wingers, we are becoming a more human society, more genuine and closer to the heart. The changes that have come about in this country in the area of gay rights so far have been encouraging and signs of positive growth for our society. There will be many that lead happier and more productive lives as a result. A stronger nation will result. No one ever wanted sexuality to be a political issue. I would prefer my love life to be private and of no consequence. When confronted with systematic injustice, politicization becomes a necessity. We have other issues of great importance to confront, and by no means is homosexuality the final frontier. There is also poverty, disease, war, and the environment. But having a more enlightened approach to homosexuality helps. It is one more brick placed into the foundation of a sane society.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Orrin Hatch on Gays
Recently, Hatch opined that "gays and lesbians don't pay tithing; their religion is politics." He characterized the comment as praise. Perhaps he did mean the comment as praise. I am willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.
I think the problem that some in the gay community have with the comment is that Orrin Hatch is not known for supporting equal rights. To have someone on the "other side" paint the entire community with one broad brush is apt to invite criticism.
I wonder whose "religion" would stand up best to intense scrutiny--mine or that of Orrin Hatch? My religion is rather simple. I believe in science, compassion, and love. That is all.
As for Orrin Hatch, his religion is complicated, requiring a book to explain. He would be hard-pressed to summarize his beliefs.
Many people brag about tithing to their church. Tithing is a voluntary socialist regime whereby members contribute funds to an exclusive group in order to receive material benefits in return. Because it is called "tithing," the practice is tax-free under U.S. law as part of our guarantee of religious freedom. People use tithing to evade taxation and undermine the secular government. They seek to aid and assist only their own little tribe.
I think the problem that some in the gay community have with the comment is that Orrin Hatch is not known for supporting equal rights. To have someone on the "other side" paint the entire community with one broad brush is apt to invite criticism.
I wonder whose "religion" would stand up best to intense scrutiny--mine or that of Orrin Hatch? My religion is rather simple. I believe in science, compassion, and love. That is all.
As for Orrin Hatch, his religion is complicated, requiring a book to explain. He would be hard-pressed to summarize his beliefs.
Many people brag about tithing to their church. Tithing is a voluntary socialist regime whereby members contribute funds to an exclusive group in order to receive material benefits in return. Because it is called "tithing," the practice is tax-free under U.S. law as part of our guarantee of religious freedom. People use tithing to evade taxation and undermine the secular government. They seek to aid and assist only their own little tribe.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Putin the Chessplayer
A recent media story notes that Russia declined to ship S-300 missiles to Iran.
The whole missile deal was just a cynical bargaining chip by Putin, who sought to extract various other concessions from the West in return for not arming the brutal Iranian dictatorship against the United States and Israel.
Both Putin and the Iranian dictatorship are absolute evil. Of the two, Putin is less obnoxious, because he is better educated and can be counted upon to exhibit enlightened selfishness, which is better than brutish, stupid, self-defeating selfishness, as exhibited by the Iranian dictator, who has embraced Thanatos.
The whole missile deal was just a cynical bargaining chip by Putin, who sought to extract various other concessions from the West in return for not arming the brutal Iranian dictatorship against the United States and Israel.
Both Putin and the Iranian dictatorship are absolute evil. Of the two, Putin is less obnoxious, because he is better educated and can be counted upon to exhibit enlightened selfishness, which is better than brutish, stupid, self-defeating selfishness, as exhibited by the Iranian dictator, who has embraced Thanatos.
Any Regrets in the "Red" Gulf States?
As the BP oil spill enters our food chain, I wonder whether the majority living in the "Red" Gulf States regrets supporting George W. Bush and various conservative Republicans in Congress in 2000 and 2004. It was his Administration that was responsible for reducing the oversight over oil and gas companies. Now the chickens have come home to roost. Ye reap what ye sow.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Mainstream Media Comments, Continued
I found an entertaining comment today at the Washington Post written by a user called rashton:
In the interest of fairness, I am including a link with actual photographs of Teabagger demonstrations. I believe it is important to show both sides of an issue.
I watched the teabaggers throng onto the Boston Common in a staged circus when Sarah Paleface sea-gulled her appearance here -- swooping in, dropping a load and swooping back out. The teabaggers were bussed in -- I saw the caravans arriving from out of town -- or drove in from other parts of the country. They were overwhelmingly white -- and the same is true of teabag crowds in news photos and non-staged television tapes from all the teabagger events. They told student reporters to go f*** themselves, because they had been warned to speak with no reporters except those from Fox (of course, they were ignorant enough to actually repeat these instructions to the college reporters. The teabagger interlopers were also instructed to bring small children if they had them, to reinforce an image of "familiness" that went along with the whiteness to create a picture that harkened back to an Ozzie and Harriet/Father Knows Best/Leave It To Beaver America they long for and hope to represent.This comment impressed me so much I wish to record it in my blog. It contains first-hand observations, rather than canned prejudices and threats of violence, as one often finds from the right-wingers who tend to crowd the comments section. However, I prefer the term "teabaggers" over "tea suckers," which doesn't make sense. "Teabaggers" was the original moniker chosen by the Tea Partyers themselves, and I think it should be retained out of respect for their wishes.
So, yes, we DO know who the teabaggers are. They are ill-educated, misguided people frightened of change and easy to manipulate. They want easy answers to the complex issues that scare them. They feed on Fox News and blind themselves to reality -- like the irreversible demographic shift that's making their version of America increasingly irrelevant. It is a movement that will crumble under the weight of the actual world. As jaxas70 put it well when he told the teabaggers that, if they win, "You are going to have to act. And once you do, you are going to find out that talking platitudes about our problems is soooo much easier than actually having to govern. Governing is something you tea suckers don't care much for. But, in the big leagues, the voters are going to expect you to do more than just blather 18th century platitudes that don't amount to a hill of beans."
In the interest of fairness, I am including a link with actual photographs of Teabagger demonstrations. I believe it is important to show both sides of an issue.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
No More Gays Because of Evolution?
This is a follow-up to the post where I criticized the comments section on major news sites for showcasing the ignorant. The smaller the brain, the bigger the mouth.
A user named celticwitch left the following comment on CNN.com:
Long ago, the haters claimed that only 2% of the population was homosexual. Celticwitch doubles that estimate, which is better, although no one really knows the actual number, and it is dishonest to claim in certain terms that the population is known. I am interested in this idea that before caring what happens to a group, we must count the numbers. Unless there is a majority, who cares? Stuff them in ovens and scatter their ashes. Is that the underlying logic?
Now the evolutionary argument is attempted, which is a new development that I did not encounter decades ago as a gay teenager, reading the angry thoughts of homophobes in my town's newspaper. So, we are on the way out? Gays will be eliminated by evolution? Should I be concerned? Not really. I could care less. However, I am interested in this idea of evolution eliminating homosexuality.
Indeed, why do homosexuals exist at all? According to the theory of evolution, we should be eliminated, no? I have several thoughts regarding that puzzle. The more I consider the question, the more factors become apparent. It is not a simple case of an individual failing to reproduce and his or her trait becoming extinguished in the next generation. If things were that easy, then many traits would be extinguished by now, such as multiple sclerosis. One factor is that traits are interlinked with other traits, rather than carried in isolation. Another factor is that homosexuality is much more diverse than an ignoramus like celticwitch could ever dream. There are as many variations to homosexuals as there are to heterosexuals. Bisexuality is one such variant.
Ironically enough, homophobia encourages homosexuality to persist by pressuring gays to pretend to be other than what they are and to procreate. When society tolerates exclusive homosexuality, then homosexuality may actually decline, assuming that homosexuality has primarily a genetic or prenatal component, which I think has been established. (It used to be that arguments would rage over whether homosexuality was learned behavior, but this is seldom a point of debate anymore, and even celticwitch avoided that line of argument.)
The concept of reproductive success is misunderstood by celticwitch. Genes are reproduced, not individuals, at least until such time that scientists perfect a technique for human cloning. The genes are shared among many family members and dispersed throughout the human race. Therefore, any consideration of reproductive success must also take into account entire families and also the wider community, because traits are shared universally. To consider only an individual is to mistake the tree for the woods.
Male homosexuality is best understood as a love and admiration for the male sex. When the same trait manifests in women, reproductive benefits may accrue. A woman with enthusiasm for men will be likely to have more children and to enjoy a passionate, healthy relationship with her partner. Thus, traits associated with male homosexuality may result in greater reproductive success much of the time, only incurring a penalty when arising in the male gender.
Another factor to consider are the contributions that a homosexual makes to his tribe when allowed to do so. There are many historical examples of homosexuals that made important contributions in the fields of science, medicine, art, literature, politics, philosophy, and even war. Many names will never be certain due to the secrecy that attended homosexual relations in earlier times. To ignore documented and undocumented contributions is to imagine that humans live in perfect isolation from one another in some kind of artificial laboratory environment. In reality, everyone exerts a certain amount of influence upon others, sometimes a very great influence.
It may be that homosexuality is necessary for the survival of the species, because the general trend for men has been to war with one another. A trend where men do something besides fight is not such a bad thing. Homosexuals tend to increase the peace by transcending races, cultures, and classes. Their intended role is that of peacemaker. It is no coincidence that evil-doers around the world oppose homosexuals, even going so far as to impose the death penalty. Evil-doers favor war and wish for the world to end in fire, and so they always oppose those perceived as agents of a different plan for mankind.
Even if homosexuals were on the way out, the thought would not trouble me, because I identify with the larger group, H. Sapiens, more than the subset, homosexuals, except when observing homophobes that want to make a divisive issue out of sexuality. I would be concerned if compassion were extinguished from the race, because that would result in a diminishing of our race into brutish savages.
As to the subject of the CNN post above, concerning whether Elton John should or should not play at Rush Limbaugh's wedding, I don't have an opinion. Celebrities do not interest me that much. I have to agree with other commentators that Elton is a minor deity. His transgression would have to be severe indeed to fall from grace in the public mind. Perhaps Elton is privy to secret information that is not available to the media or the general public. He may have his reasons, and I for one would be willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.
I'm surprised to read in the CNN article that Rush Limbaugh supports civil unions for gays, but I wonder what that means? For my part, I don't care what the procedure is called, as long as the legal rights become available and are comparable to marriage. I find a pragmatic approach to be acceptable.
The last time I tuned in to Rush, about twenty years ago, he had nothing positive to say about gays or civil rights for gays. I remember him standing up and saying something foolish to the effect that all real Americans play football, and any high school student that didn't play football and do "American" things wasn't a real American. That is when I made up my mind that Rush was an idiot. Since that time, he has called for longer sentences for drug offenders, when he himself was a drug addict. Instead of prison time, he received the finest medical care for his addiction. It is typical of conservatives that they want harsh punishments for poor people that have problems, but for themselves, only the easy road. I doubt he's changed his tune that much. If he really does support civil unions, then he should discuss the issue in depth on one of his shows and call some of fellow conservatives to task for playing the bigot.
A user named celticwitch left the following comment on CNN.com:
Why all this fighting? Homosexuals make up only 4% of the world's population. That number has not changed in 20 years. Why? They cannot reproduce as easily as heterosexuals. Unless we evolve into an asexual species, their numbers will continually decline. It only seems like it's growing because fewer people are hiding their anomaly. In reality, they are a very small minority.
Long ago, the haters claimed that only 2% of the population was homosexual. Celticwitch doubles that estimate, which is better, although no one really knows the actual number, and it is dishonest to claim in certain terms that the population is known. I am interested in this idea that before caring what happens to a group, we must count the numbers. Unless there is a majority, who cares? Stuff them in ovens and scatter their ashes. Is that the underlying logic?
Now the evolutionary argument is attempted, which is a new development that I did not encounter decades ago as a gay teenager, reading the angry thoughts of homophobes in my town's newspaper. So, we are on the way out? Gays will be eliminated by evolution? Should I be concerned? Not really. I could care less. However, I am interested in this idea of evolution eliminating homosexuality.
Indeed, why do homosexuals exist at all? According to the theory of evolution, we should be eliminated, no? I have several thoughts regarding that puzzle. The more I consider the question, the more factors become apparent. It is not a simple case of an individual failing to reproduce and his or her trait becoming extinguished in the next generation. If things were that easy, then many traits would be extinguished by now, such as multiple sclerosis. One factor is that traits are interlinked with other traits, rather than carried in isolation. Another factor is that homosexuality is much more diverse than an ignoramus like celticwitch could ever dream. There are as many variations to homosexuals as there are to heterosexuals. Bisexuality is one such variant.
Ironically enough, homophobia encourages homosexuality to persist by pressuring gays to pretend to be other than what they are and to procreate. When society tolerates exclusive homosexuality, then homosexuality may actually decline, assuming that homosexuality has primarily a genetic or prenatal component, which I think has been established. (It used to be that arguments would rage over whether homosexuality was learned behavior, but this is seldom a point of debate anymore, and even celticwitch avoided that line of argument.)
The concept of reproductive success is misunderstood by celticwitch. Genes are reproduced, not individuals, at least until such time that scientists perfect a technique for human cloning. The genes are shared among many family members and dispersed throughout the human race. Therefore, any consideration of reproductive success must also take into account entire families and also the wider community, because traits are shared universally. To consider only an individual is to mistake the tree for the woods.
Male homosexuality is best understood as a love and admiration for the male sex. When the same trait manifests in women, reproductive benefits may accrue. A woman with enthusiasm for men will be likely to have more children and to enjoy a passionate, healthy relationship with her partner. Thus, traits associated with male homosexuality may result in greater reproductive success much of the time, only incurring a penalty when arising in the male gender.
Another factor to consider are the contributions that a homosexual makes to his tribe when allowed to do so. There are many historical examples of homosexuals that made important contributions in the fields of science, medicine, art, literature, politics, philosophy, and even war. Many names will never be certain due to the secrecy that attended homosexual relations in earlier times. To ignore documented and undocumented contributions is to imagine that humans live in perfect isolation from one another in some kind of artificial laboratory environment. In reality, everyone exerts a certain amount of influence upon others, sometimes a very great influence.
It may be that homosexuality is necessary for the survival of the species, because the general trend for men has been to war with one another. A trend where men do something besides fight is not such a bad thing. Homosexuals tend to increase the peace by transcending races, cultures, and classes. Their intended role is that of peacemaker. It is no coincidence that evil-doers around the world oppose homosexuals, even going so far as to impose the death penalty. Evil-doers favor war and wish for the world to end in fire, and so they always oppose those perceived as agents of a different plan for mankind.
Even if homosexuals were on the way out, the thought would not trouble me, because I identify with the larger group, H. Sapiens, more than the subset, homosexuals, except when observing homophobes that want to make a divisive issue out of sexuality. I would be concerned if compassion were extinguished from the race, because that would result in a diminishing of our race into brutish savages.
As to the subject of the CNN post above, concerning whether Elton John should or should not play at Rush Limbaugh's wedding, I don't have an opinion. Celebrities do not interest me that much. I have to agree with other commentators that Elton is a minor deity. His transgression would have to be severe indeed to fall from grace in the public mind. Perhaps Elton is privy to secret information that is not available to the media or the general public. He may have his reasons, and I for one would be willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.
I'm surprised to read in the CNN article that Rush Limbaugh supports civil unions for gays, but I wonder what that means? For my part, I don't care what the procedure is called, as long as the legal rights become available and are comparable to marriage. I find a pragmatic approach to be acceptable.
The last time I tuned in to Rush, about twenty years ago, he had nothing positive to say about gays or civil rights for gays. I remember him standing up and saying something foolish to the effect that all real Americans play football, and any high school student that didn't play football and do "American" things wasn't a real American. That is when I made up my mind that Rush was an idiot. Since that time, he has called for longer sentences for drug offenders, when he himself was a drug addict. Instead of prison time, he received the finest medical care for his addiction. It is typical of conservatives that they want harsh punishments for poor people that have problems, but for themselves, only the easy road. I doubt he's changed his tune that much. If he really does support civil unions, then he should discuss the issue in depth on one of his shows and call some of fellow conservatives to task for playing the bigot.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Never Serve Evil
It is better to earn $50 by helping a good person with their computer system than $5000 by improving the system of an enterprise run by evil-doers. Never serve evil, because to serve evil is to be evil. Let actions mirror beliefs, or else the beliefs are of no consequence.
There is more to this post than meets the eye. Hidden within are honeypots intended for the Chinese-language spambot that has plagued my blog since its inception. Let's see whether it has a sweet tooth.
Why hello, 123.13.206.59! So nasty of you to drop by. Since you did drop by and attempt (but fail) to spam, your IP has been captured and is now exposed for all the world to see.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Dungeon Crawl Sprint
I scored my first victory in Dungeon Crawl Stone Soup's -sprint module. I like sprint! My hat's off to the Stone Soup team. Wait a minute. I don't wear a hat! Well, you get the idea.*
Two flavors that blend well together are DCSS -sprint and regen.bat, my technique for avoiding sudden death. I have updated the batch to play sprint and execute faster.
A word of advice: beware of Lom Lobon. I was not able to beat him with my Deep Elf Ice Elementalist, but eluded death by luring him to another section of the dungeon. A Blink spell would have been helpful!
The Spriggan Artificer equipped with a wand of Enslavement has a fair chance for survival. However, once the wands run out of charges, all bets are off until a Wand Shop can be found. Stealth is very important in -sprint, and therefore Spriggans have excellent chances. A combo I like even better for -sprint is Spriggan Enchanter. If possible, stab Igyb. If this does not slay him outright, line up the first three monsters in a neat little row, drink the beserker potion, and dispatch them one after the other, in order of the danger they pose. It will then be possible to open the Spriggan's mind to Confuse and Enslave.
Two flavors that blend well together are DCSS -sprint and regen.bat, my technique for avoiding sudden death. I have updated the batch to play sprint and execute faster.
A word of advice: beware of Lom Lobon. I was not able to beat him with my Deep Elf Ice Elementalist, but eluded death by luring him to another section of the dungeon. A Blink spell would have been helpful!
The Spriggan Artificer equipped with a wand of Enslavement has a fair chance for survival. However, once the wands run out of charges, all bets are off until a Wand Shop can be found. Stealth is very important in -sprint, and therefore Spriggans have excellent chances. A combo I like even better for -sprint is Spriggan Enchanter. If possible, stab Igyb. If this does not slay him outright, line up the first three monsters in a neat little row, drink the beserker potion, and dispatch them one after the other, in order of the danger they pose. It will then be possible to open the Spriggan's mind to Confuse and Enslave.
[*] Actually, I used to wear a hat until I noticed a young waitress in a restaurant grinning at me. I was reminded of a Seinfeld episode where George Costanza wears a hat to conceal his baldness.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Comments on Mainstream Media Sites
The Comments section on mainstream media web sites, such as the New York Daily News and many other newspapers, television and radio stations, express base sentiments. Armchair generals advocate lynching, beating, and torture for every conceivable misdemeanor. The reaction to any irritant, domestic or foreign, involves wielding the club. Men not far advanced above chimpanzees express racism, homophobia, sexism, and every other variety of hatred. They would be ashamed of their own words if called upon to defend their thoughts in front of a live audience. The Comments section gives the incorrect impression that idiots are the majority, and that nobody bothers thinking matters through in any depth. Maybe it is a mistake to have a Comments section where the lowest common denominator inserts its less-than-two-cents. Note that I am only talking about MSM sites, not my own, where comments have been pretty good as a rule, with two exceptions, a spambot fluent in Chinese, and a drunkard who remains nameless for the moment*.
Nowadays it is possible to jot down an errant thought without delay. The lack of delay discourages reflection. Brute impulses may be transmitted straight from the amygdala. When writing, I try to let the prefrontal cortex remain in charge. The animal-nature betrays a writer and will never win any support from individuals that operate at a high level of thinking**.
If the writing process required a quill pen, parchment, postage, and a messenger-boy, the correspondent might trouble himself to compose a message containing ideas rather than threats or deprecation. Only those that felt their words had weight would trouble themselves to sit down and write a letter in longhand with a quill pen.
I am old enough to remember a time when a personal letter, whether from a friend, acquaintance, or stranger, was of great importance, enough to make me stop everything that I was doing and devote my whole attention to the message, written in longhand of course. That the letter would be of a certain minimal quality was almost certain.
Writing should be superior to the spoken word. When it is not, I know that I am dealing with a lazy writer who cannot be troubled to proofread. If the writer will not proofread his message, then I will not read it. Proofreading catches grammatical, structural, and organizational errors. It is like the error correction protocol used in many of our technological devices. Without proofreading, errors of every variety are likely to betray the writer, making him look like a fool. I do not know anyone who can pump out sterling prose without revising their text many times. If there is such an exceptional individual, then he might make a good President or Prime Minister, assuming he is not really just a plagiarist.
My goal on this blog is to write nothing that I would regret later. If I write something that I later regret, then I delete it. I have done so at least a hundred times. Sometimes when I go to bed, one of my posts troubles me. I sense that something is amiss, even if I am not sure exactly what it is. When I wake up in the morning, I review the message. If the message has only a minor fault, such as a grammatical error, I edit. If the message appears beyond redemption, I delete. Sometimes I am too quick to delete. I miss some of my old posts that are gone forever. Partial remains of these victims to my internal critic can be found via a Google Search, but they are not to be found on this blog. Even so, I think quality control is a good idea for any blog. There is no predicting which post a reader may begin with. Each post may be my one and only opportunity to make an impression.
Nowadays it is possible to jot down an errant thought without delay. The lack of delay discourages reflection. Brute impulses may be transmitted straight from the amygdala. When writing, I try to let the prefrontal cortex remain in charge. The animal-nature betrays a writer and will never win any support from individuals that operate at a high level of thinking**.
If the writing process required a quill pen, parchment, postage, and a messenger-boy, the correspondent might trouble himself to compose a message containing ideas rather than threats or deprecation. Only those that felt their words had weight would trouble themselves to sit down and write a letter in longhand with a quill pen.
I am old enough to remember a time when a personal letter, whether from a friend, acquaintance, or stranger, was of great importance, enough to make me stop everything that I was doing and devote my whole attention to the message, written in longhand of course. That the letter would be of a certain minimal quality was almost certain.
Writing should be superior to the spoken word. When it is not, I know that I am dealing with a lazy writer who cannot be troubled to proofread. If the writer will not proofread his message, then I will not read it. Proofreading catches grammatical, structural, and organizational errors. It is like the error correction protocol used in many of our technological devices. Without proofreading, errors of every variety are likely to betray the writer, making him look like a fool. I do not know anyone who can pump out sterling prose without revising their text many times. If there is such an exceptional individual, then he might make a good President or Prime Minister, assuming he is not really just a plagiarist.
My goal on this blog is to write nothing that I would regret later. If I write something that I later regret, then I delete it. I have done so at least a hundred times. Sometimes when I go to bed, one of my posts troubles me. I sense that something is amiss, even if I am not sure exactly what it is. When I wake up in the morning, I review the message. If the message has only a minor fault, such as a grammatical error, I edit. If the message appears beyond redemption, I delete. Sometimes I am too quick to delete. I miss some of my old posts that are gone forever. Partial remains of these victims to my internal critic can be found via a Google Search, but they are not to be found on this blog. Even so, I think quality control is a good idea for any blog. There is no predicting which post a reader may begin with. Each post may be my one and only opportunity to make an impression.
* On Memorial Day, I received three comments in one day to three ancient posts of mine. None of the comments addressed the substance of the posts, which seemed to be picked at random. The comments were nothing but insults. My first thought was of a spambot, but instead it was a hatebot, an insulting drunkard who left anonymous comments, afraid to reveal his identity. Nothing that he wrote is worth repeating. I removed the Anonymous Comment feature due to this example of its abuse. It makes me smile to imagine all of this advanced computer technology put to the service of conveying the screeching of baboons.
[**] A fascist will respond by saying he does not care what the liberals think, because he is only preaching to others like himself, lazy armchair generals addicted to anger, who watch FOX News 24/7 and believe everything they are told.
[**] A fascist will respond by saying he does not care what the liberals think, because he is only preaching to others like himself, lazy armchair generals addicted to anger, who watch FOX News 24/7 and believe everything they are told.
The Human Nature
One of my beliefs, which no one I have ever met agrees with, is that the human intelligence is software that evolved over time. It is nothing but software. Our brains are compilations of code, object-oriented subroutines. We are nothing but an elegant and elephantine C++ program. The creator was evolution.
Evolution is not particularly moral. Nor are we. Evolution should never guide our philosophy. Some people, Republicans, think evolution is the answer. It is not. Evolution will lead us to self-destruction. If you slay me, you will be slain in turn. My vengeance is assured, because the willingness to slay will follow your descendants. This is clear to anyone that studies history. What promotes dominance is not necessarily good. Sometimes death is preferable. There are moral imperatives that are higher than survival. We should want what is really good to prevail in the world. Our own lives are not as important as the greater good.
For my part, I think compassion should prevail, not just toward other humans, but toward all life and toward beauty and knowledge. Survival is not everything, and if it were, it would be a ridiculous philosophy, because we are dust, gone in the blink of an eye. I often sense a cosmic smile, as from a god, upon all the vanity of the world and upon my own vanity, because I am just a temporary spark put into being for a brief period of time. It will not be long before I am long gone, and then there will be many others, too many to count, and I will be completely forgotten as though I never existed. Everyone will be forgotten, and that thought may startle the rich and the powerful, whose energies are consumed in getting and fighting with others. They are dust. No one will even know their names.
As I have studied human anatomy, it is clearer to me now that we are like the programs I created during my career. Our scientific knowledge has progressed farther than I anticipated. Everyone knows about DNA. That is old news. What else? We now know what happens in the human body down to the atomic level. Our lives are based upon the interaction of calcium, phosphate, sodium, and other atoms and molecules. We exist because we have to exist. We do what we do because we have no other choice. We are mechanical, not spirits, not elegant entities derived from the Word--or perhaps all is derived from the Word, and I am mistaken. That could be as well. When studying the intricacies of our design, it is difficult to believe that the beautiful and fantastic design could arise through the survival of the fitness. There is a desire to believe that we are the product of a grand scheme. It is difficult to know. Sometimes I believe there is a great Power, a personality, and sometimes I believe instead that everything, good and bad, is a manifestation of the One.
Perhaps the human race is the flower of all these atoms and molecules, produced by a stormy season upon a wet planet. Perhaps love and truth derive from calcium, sodium and phosphate. I do not know. By the way, I think those are the most beautiful words in the English language, "I do not know," because so many people think that they do know, when they do not. Arrogance is uncomely. I will not be like that. To say things about God and portray him as an ignorant, backwoods prude--I think such people know nothing about God and are far away from the creative impulse of the universe. Such religious people, or so they call themselves, have embraced Chaos, which is to say evil, and they do not know what is good. Their punishment is gullibility, because those who cannot discern good from evil will fall prey to the con artists of the world, who are great in number.
Evolution is not particularly moral. Nor are we. Evolution should never guide our philosophy. Some people, Republicans, think evolution is the answer. It is not. Evolution will lead us to self-destruction. If you slay me, you will be slain in turn. My vengeance is assured, because the willingness to slay will follow your descendants. This is clear to anyone that studies history. What promotes dominance is not necessarily good. Sometimes death is preferable. There are moral imperatives that are higher than survival. We should want what is really good to prevail in the world. Our own lives are not as important as the greater good.
For my part, I think compassion should prevail, not just toward other humans, but toward all life and toward beauty and knowledge. Survival is not everything, and if it were, it would be a ridiculous philosophy, because we are dust, gone in the blink of an eye. I often sense a cosmic smile, as from a god, upon all the vanity of the world and upon my own vanity, because I am just a temporary spark put into being for a brief period of time. It will not be long before I am long gone, and then there will be many others, too many to count, and I will be completely forgotten as though I never existed. Everyone will be forgotten, and that thought may startle the rich and the powerful, whose energies are consumed in getting and fighting with others. They are dust. No one will even know their names.
As I have studied human anatomy, it is clearer to me now that we are like the programs I created during my career. Our scientific knowledge has progressed farther than I anticipated. Everyone knows about DNA. That is old news. What else? We now know what happens in the human body down to the atomic level. Our lives are based upon the interaction of calcium, phosphate, sodium, and other atoms and molecules. We exist because we have to exist. We do what we do because we have no other choice. We are mechanical, not spirits, not elegant entities derived from the Word--or perhaps all is derived from the Word, and I am mistaken. That could be as well. When studying the intricacies of our design, it is difficult to believe that the beautiful and fantastic design could arise through the survival of the fitness. There is a desire to believe that we are the product of a grand scheme. It is difficult to know. Sometimes I believe there is a great Power, a personality, and sometimes I believe instead that everything, good and bad, is a manifestation of the One.
Perhaps the human race is the flower of all these atoms and molecules, produced by a stormy season upon a wet planet. Perhaps love and truth derive from calcium, sodium and phosphate. I do not know. By the way, I think those are the most beautiful words in the English language, "I do not know," because so many people think that they do know, when they do not. Arrogance is uncomely. I will not be like that. To say things about God and portray him as an ignorant, backwoods prude--I think such people know nothing about God and are far away from the creative impulse of the universe. Such religious people, or so they call themselves, have embraced Chaos, which is to say evil, and they do not know what is good. Their punishment is gullibility, because those who cannot discern good from evil will fall prey to the con artists of the world, who are great in number.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Know Thyself
Just because one is correct most of the time, does not mean one is always correct. Beware of the exceptions. Many people do not know their own limitations. In the name of self-esteem, a person overlooks his deficiencies. Mistakes result. Arrogance is a species of blindness.
How does one become self-aware? The most difficult things are to listen, observe, and most of all, reflect. The analytical habits of mind allow one to reflect and to succeed in penetrating into the truth of a matter.
I have known managers and professors that were intelligent, but had no awareness of their deficiencies, or were aware at a subconscious level, but denied that they had any flaw. They were doomed to repeat the same mistakes. I feel pity for such people. Those who know their limitations allow themselves to cheat by seeking advice and help from others. I like cheating. Why suffer the consequences of every defect bestowed by nature? There is no need to suffer. Instead, admit to the shortcoming--not so much to others, but to one's own self--and compensate for it. Others are willing to help and glad to be recognized for their strengths.
How does one become self-aware? The most difficult things are to listen, observe, and most of all, reflect. The analytical habits of mind allow one to reflect and to succeed in penetrating into the truth of a matter.
I have known managers and professors that were intelligent, but had no awareness of their deficiencies, or were aware at a subconscious level, but denied that they had any flaw. They were doomed to repeat the same mistakes. I feel pity for such people. Those who know their limitations allow themselves to cheat by seeking advice and help from others. I like cheating. Why suffer the consequences of every defect bestowed by nature? There is no need to suffer. Instead, admit to the shortcoming--not so much to others, but to one's own self--and compensate for it. Others are willing to help and glad to be recognized for their strengths.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Tee-ball
At the age of six, I was enrolled into tee-ball baseball, a variation for little kids that does not involve pitching. Instead, the ball is placed upon a tee, where the batter hits it, which should be a sure bet for any competent player, which I wasn't. I didn't have much interest in tee-ball. My thoughts tended to be elsewhere. I had a rich inner world. I believed in magic, God, the Devil, and all kinds of things that I had picked up from Church, television and my friends. I liked thinking about these things rather than things like tee-ball. I liked to imagine that as yet unseen spirits might want to get in touch with me and give me gifts or grant me special powers that would be completely cool and awesome.
Due to all this daydreaming, I was in the habit of striking out or hitting the tee-ball somewhere easy for a quick out. My coach wanted to win. I still remember him even to this day. He was a tall, muscular, good-looking high school stud with dark hair who wore a gold chain and spat, used slang and cursed more than may have been appropriate for our tee-ball league. I disapproved of the cursing because I knew my parents would disapprove, but no one else seemed to mind, so I decided he must be an unusual exception to the no-cursing rule. The parents were overlooking his cursing because he was such a good coach, I decided.
The coach crouched beside me as I swung the plastic bat at the tee-ball. He tried to show me the best way to hit the ball. He even held my forearms and tried to swing the bat for me, using my grip on the bat and his aim. The opposing coach objected to this as cheating, and my coach had to back off, but he stayed nearby to give advice. There was another delay as the opposing coach called a time-out, because one of his players had to go to the bathroom. While waiting, I hummed a parody of "The Batman and Robin Show" that was making the rounds at school:
At the end of the season, I think we won first or second place in the league. The parents got together and presented the coach with a bonus check of a hundred dollars, unimaginable wealth to someone like me accustomed to a dollar-fifty a week allowance. I quit tee-ball after the first season because I found it boring, although I liked the coach. I probably would have liked him even more about ten years later.
Due to all this daydreaming, I was in the habit of striking out or hitting the tee-ball somewhere easy for a quick out. My coach wanted to win. I still remember him even to this day. He was a tall, muscular, good-looking high school stud with dark hair who wore a gold chain and spat, used slang and cursed more than may have been appropriate for our tee-ball league. I disapproved of the cursing because I knew my parents would disapprove, but no one else seemed to mind, so I decided he must be an unusual exception to the no-cursing rule. The parents were overlooking his cursing because he was such a good coach, I decided.
The coach crouched beside me as I swung the plastic bat at the tee-ball. He tried to show me the best way to hit the ball. He even held my forearms and tried to swing the bat for me, using my grip on the bat and his aim. The opposing coach objected to this as cheating, and my coach had to back off, but he stayed nearby to give advice. There was another delay as the opposing coach called a time-out, because one of his players had to go to the bathroom. While waiting, I hummed a parody of "The Batman and Robin Show" that was making the rounds at school:
Jingle Bells,My coach snapped, "I ain't laid no egg!" I turned to him in surprise. Then I remembered that his name was Robin, and I laughed. He repeated his denial. I tried to explain that the song had nothing to do with him, but I don't think he ever caught the part about Batman. I gave up trying to explain and concentrated on the tee-ball. I scored a hit and made it to the first base, only to be caught out later.
Batman smells,
Robin laid an egg!
The Batmobile
Lost its wheel
and the Joker ran away---ay!
At the end of the season, I think we won first or second place in the league. The parents got together and presented the coach with a bonus check of a hundred dollars, unimaginable wealth to someone like me accustomed to a dollar-fifty a week allowance. I quit tee-ball after the first season because I found it boring, although I liked the coach. I probably would have liked him even more about ten years later.
How to Disable the File Properties Window in ACDSee
A bug afflicts earlier versions of ACDSee, although I went for years without its cropping up on my install. About a year ago, something went amiss with the configuration of the full screen view. When clicking on a thumbnail to view the full image, a File Properties window pops up for no apparent reason. File properties informs me of the EXIF data and other minor details while obscuring a large portion of the screen. I am very pleased that ACDSee knows these things, but I don't want to see them with every single image! This annoying behavior persists every time the application is loaded, and there is no obvious way to stop it in the Options menu.
After much searching, I finally found a solution here, which is to press Alt-Enter while in view mode. The File Properties goes away and stays away forever. This is far from intuitive, but is the only known method that really works. I went so far as to install Irfanview in order to replace ACDSee before I found the solution. I learned enough to write a capsule review about Irfanview, though not a favorable one.
I was unimpressed with Irfanview, which demands that the user learn a new method of navigation much different from the Windows standard. Common tasks such as selecting, copying, and pasting files do not work in the expected manner. At one point, a single file was highlighted. I pressed the delete key, expecting that file to be deleted. Instead, Irfanview deleted the entire subdirectory containing the file. Another unnecessary annoyance is that Irfanview begins with a dark screen, rather than displaying all the thumbnails in the default directory, which would seem the obvious thing to do. Irfanview does not offer any navigation to change the sorting order, an option I grew accustomed to in ACDSee. Instead, Irfanview alphabetizes. What about sorting by modified-date, file-size, width, height, and so on? These options are not on the screen where they belong. I consider these options to be essential, so I uninstalled Irfanview. My last experiment with it a few years ago went the same way. ACDSee is expensive, but even the older versions seem superior to its competitors.
I blog about issues like this as a way to save the information for future reference for myself. If other people find these notes helpful, so much the better.
After much searching, I finally found a solution here, which is to press Alt-Enter while in view mode. The File Properties goes away and stays away forever. This is far from intuitive, but is the only known method that really works. I went so far as to install Irfanview in order to replace ACDSee before I found the solution. I learned enough to write a capsule review about Irfanview, though not a favorable one.
I was unimpressed with Irfanview, which demands that the user learn a new method of navigation much different from the Windows standard. Common tasks such as selecting, copying, and pasting files do not work in the expected manner. At one point, a single file was highlighted. I pressed the delete key, expecting that file to be deleted. Instead, Irfanview deleted the entire subdirectory containing the file. Another unnecessary annoyance is that Irfanview begins with a dark screen, rather than displaying all the thumbnails in the default directory, which would seem the obvious thing to do. Irfanview does not offer any navigation to change the sorting order, an option I grew accustomed to in ACDSee. Instead, Irfanview alphabetizes. What about sorting by modified-date, file-size, width, height, and so on? These options are not on the screen where they belong. I consider these options to be essential, so I uninstalled Irfanview. My last experiment with it a few years ago went the same way. ACDSee is expensive, but even the older versions seem superior to its competitors.
I blog about issues like this as a way to save the information for future reference for myself. If other people find these notes helpful, so much the better.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Memories of my Father
- No, I can't play ball with you. No, I can't take you anywhere. No, I don't want to go for a walk. No, I don't want to go to the park. I want to watch a TV show. I want to take a nap. I want to read my books. Go find someone else your own age to play with.
- I don't approve of your friends. They seem low-class to me. Vulgar and ignorant. I don't want them in this house anymore.
- I don't care whether you love me. I just want your respect. Respect is all that matters. One day you'll understand. One day you'll thank me. You may not think so now, but you will later.
- Homosexuals are perverted. They hate women. And they get bitter when they get older. I know all about it, because there's one in our department. He's that way. No, I never talk to him, because he's homosexual. They are different from us. We're normal. They're not. No, I never plan to invite him over. Why do you ask?
- If you were a homosexual, that would be a terrible thing. Yes, worse than death! You would have to go to a psychiatrist. It is a sickness! That's a medical fact. If you have any homosexual thoughts, try to nip them in the bud. Don't think that way. You want to grow up to be normal, don't you? I would be terribly ashamed of you if you were homosexual.
- I wrote a poem dedicated to the "Afghan Freedom Fighters" and am going to post it on the bulletin board outside my office door! Here, take a look. I'm rather proud of it. It rhymes, too.
- Don't write poetry or fiction. You're not creative enough. You just don't have any talent for it. Stick to technical writing. You seem to do okay with that.
- I can't really tell you what's wrong with your writing. It's just not good enough. I don't have time to explain why. Just focus on your schoolwork. That's what's important.
- Come read this new poem that I wrote, dedicated to our brave allies, the Freedom Fighters of Aghanistan! No, this is a different version from the last. A new and improved version. I'm going to try and get it published. Give me some feedback on it.
- Marijuana is a terrible drug, much worse than alcohol. It leads to hard drugs like heroin. The government says so, and the government wouldn't lie about a thing like that. If it's illegal, it is illegal for a good reason. Has to be! Do you think you're smarter than the government? Well, you're not!
- I have to spy on you, search your room from top to bottom when you're not there, and eavesdrop on all of your conversations, in part to make sure you're not using marijuana. Otherwise, I wouldn't be a good parent. You should be thanking me for it. Believe me, I don't enjoy doing it. It's not one of my pleasures, and I don't like it when you accuse me of enjoying it.
- Guess what? I found a roach, or a roach clip, or a lighter, or ashes, or a plastic bag, or traces of marijuana! Don't deny it! You're lying! I'm going to call the police! You're grounded for six months! I took all of your money! I took away your computer! No more television for you! You're worthless! You're a drug addict! You're lazy! You're addicted to marijuana!
- No, I don't care if you drink, because that's legal. I used to drink. People drink. It's a normal thing to do.
- You're not really gay. You only think you're gay because you're trying to emulate Wordsworth.
- Did I make you gay? No? Whew, that's a relief. I was worried about that. You weren't attracted to me, were you?
- Did you steal a $5 teacup from my bookshelf? It went missing. I think you stole it! I'm not going to speak to you again!
- He's in town visiting? I don't care. I'm not going to see him. No, don't put him on the phone. I don't want to talk to him. He stole a $5 teacup from me. I know he did. He's just lying when he says he didn't.
- How come you didn't write a thank-you card for the $30 I sent you for Christmas?
The Death Toll of Prohibition
Government thugs in Jamaica burn bodies to cover up their crimes. The death toll is "73 civilians, two police officers and one soldier." The authorities are killing people left and right in their attempts to catch a so-called "marijuana and cocaine kingpin" who has handed out food, sent children to school and built medical centers.
Marijuana itself causes no deaths at all, alleviates the symptoms of several diseases, and is incapable of causing physical addiction, unlike tobacco, alcohol, and caffeine. George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and Abraham Lincoln would be puzzled by the modern era's hysteria over a plant they themselves consumed. Many other historical figures would take issue with Prohibition. No rational person, presented with the facts and an accurate history of Prohibition and its impact upon the world, could continue to support it in good conscience.
Marijuana itself causes no deaths at all, alleviates the symptoms of several diseases, and is incapable of causing physical addiction, unlike tobacco, alcohol, and caffeine. George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and Abraham Lincoln would be puzzled by the modern era's hysteria over a plant they themselves consumed. Many other historical figures would take issue with Prohibition. No rational person, presented with the facts and an accurate history of Prohibition and its impact upon the world, could continue to support it in good conscience.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Dogs and Pigs
I'm flattered to read that the tyrant Mugabe of Zimbabwe believes gays like me are "lower than dogs and pigs". To be insulted by such scum is an honor. To be praised by scum would be the real insult. Former Gov. Campbell of South Carolina (R) made a similar remark long ago. I felt the same about the governor's remark.
Humble animals such as a dog or a pig never conceive of doing evil on the scale of a human villain like Mugabe. I would much rather be a dog or a pig than be Mugabe and be responsible for the many deaths and tortures that have marked his bloody reign.
If the Christians are right, and God punishes the wicked, then Mugabe should dread his approaching death. But I think it is not so. The justice of Hell is only an imagined consolation, sweet to the oppressed but false. Mugabe has succeeded in marring his world a little bit. He may never encounter the hand of justice. All the same, I would not want to be him. He has created a hell of his own making. To be feared by all, loved by none, and always watching one's back does not sound like a good life.
What is the difference between Mugabe and the HIV virus? Both cause death. Neither has a conscience. They are both problems that need solutions, but solutions are in short supply in a world that is always creating new problems. Of the two, the HIV virus has wreaked more havoc and poses the greater danger to the human race. The sole virtue of Mugabe is that he is a self-correcting problem, because he is destined to die. His death will be an occasion for rejoicing among millions of people. I will drink a glass of Merlot to his death.
Death is the great equalizer, worthy of praise, though he takes all without prejudice, good and bad, great and small. I worry about the future when scientists do find an answer to the problem of human mortality. They are working day and night on a solution, but it seems a premature goal, unwise at this stage of human development. The rich and the powerful will monopolize any technology designed to prolong life. Throughout history, death has freed many people that languished under the rule of a paranoid despot. Remember Stalin, whose death was a cause of rejoicing throughout the world. Death should not be defeated until the problem of evil is resolved. While powerful men remain wicked, let there be a death to lay them low. When powerful men become good, and their actions are tempered by compassion, then let an answer be found for mortality.
Humble animals such as a dog or a pig never conceive of doing evil on the scale of a human villain like Mugabe. I would much rather be a dog or a pig than be Mugabe and be responsible for the many deaths and tortures that have marked his bloody reign.
If the Christians are right, and God punishes the wicked, then Mugabe should dread his approaching death. But I think it is not so. The justice of Hell is only an imagined consolation, sweet to the oppressed but false. Mugabe has succeeded in marring his world a little bit. He may never encounter the hand of justice. All the same, I would not want to be him. He has created a hell of his own making. To be feared by all, loved by none, and always watching one's back does not sound like a good life.
What is the difference between Mugabe and the HIV virus? Both cause death. Neither has a conscience. They are both problems that need solutions, but solutions are in short supply in a world that is always creating new problems. Of the two, the HIV virus has wreaked more havoc and poses the greater danger to the human race. The sole virtue of Mugabe is that he is a self-correcting problem, because he is destined to die. His death will be an occasion for rejoicing among millions of people. I will drink a glass of Merlot to his death.
Death is the great equalizer, worthy of praise, though he takes all without prejudice, good and bad, great and small. I worry about the future when scientists do find an answer to the problem of human mortality. They are working day and night on a solution, but it seems a premature goal, unwise at this stage of human development. The rich and the powerful will monopolize any technology designed to prolong life. Throughout history, death has freed many people that languished under the rule of a paranoid despot. Remember Stalin, whose death was a cause of rejoicing throughout the world. Death should not be defeated until the problem of evil is resolved. While powerful men remain wicked, let there be a death to lay them low. When powerful men become good, and their actions are tempered by compassion, then let an answer be found for mortality.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Best Friends, Chapter 4: Postscript
This is a continuation of an earlier story, "Best Friends, Chapter 3: The End."
---
A few years passed before Brian and I saw each other again. At the time, we were both sixteen. My mother and I were walking in the mall. I recall many details that are irrelevant, such as what we were wearing, the time, the date, and why we were at the mall. I remember the feeling I had that something was about to happen.
He was seated at a table in the Orange Julius, drinking a soda. Seated by him was a boy I recognized named Chris, who ranked high on the list of boys I found attractive. He was our age, athletic, and handsome. He’d sat in front of me in my sophomore English class, before I had changed schools. I’d studied his excellent posterior the better part of a school year. I felt a suspicion that Brian shared my taste.
Chris and I could never be rivals, not over Brian or anyone else. We’d got on well. I’d made him laugh once by pointing out an amusing spectacle during class. The teacher, annoyed by my whispering, demanded I share my observation with everyone. She thought I was talking about her. I wasn’t. I liked her, despite her suspicion to the contrary. I directed her attention to an adjacent chair, which was unoccupied. Seeing nothing, she repeated her demand. I said, “On that chair are a pair of fornicating flies.” One boy asked what fornicating meant. Coloring, she said, “You’re lying!” I said, “No, I’m not. We’ve got Romeo and Juliet back here.” She said, “Flies don’t do that.” I said, “These do. Come back here and see for yourself.” She declined. I received a detention or a suspension. All that mattered to me was that Chris thought it was amusing.
When they saw me, they whispered together. Should Brian ignore me or say hello? I stopped, unsure of what to say or do. Brian’s eyes met mine. I waved hello, expecting to be ignored by both of them, but I underestimated Brian. He disregarded the whispered counsel of Chris, who tried to stop him, and walked toward my mother and me. He greeted my mom, who had always liked him. Towards my mom, he felt a certain regard. Towards me, he felt contempt. The feeling filled all the space around him. I couldn’t prevail against it. He said how glad he was to see my mother and me, but his words sounded false. He studied my face for a reaction, smiling, expecting me to be annoyed, but I wasn't.
At that moment, my thoughts drifted back four years, when I watched from a second floor window as Brian’s mother pulled into our driveway in her small economy car. This was just a month into our friendship, when all was fresh and new between us. Brian opened the car door and stepped out. He was handsome, a dashing hero, a worthy friend. He looked up and noted the admiration in my expression. He smiled, gratified. I waved, but he only nodded, too cool to wave. In the next moment, his expression changed to one of alarm. He’d almost forgotten his Dungeons & Dragons books and dice! Had seeing me distracted him? I laughed. He darted back into the car, picked them up, and shut the door. We were going to play all day long and have a wonderful time. I raced down the stairs to greet him.
As I looked at my ex-friend, that memory seemed strange, as though from another life not my own. The corpse of our friendship was in an advanced stage of decomposition. I was persona non grata. He had already told me just what he thought of me. The time for words was long past, which is why I was silent.
He offered his hand, and I shook it. His grip was soft, not his familiar firm handshake. We parted on as good terms as can be expected. Later when I was alone at home, I wanted to call him. I picked up the phone, only to listen to the dial tone before placing it back. I knew all too well what his response would be.
He sometimes saw me at school. If I said hello, he might turn for an instant, but upon realizing the source, would turn away, and thereafter ignore me. It was as though I no longer existed in his reality. He had sworn that we would be friends forever, but I discovered the worth of his words.
---
A few years passed before Brian and I saw each other again. At the time, we were both sixteen. My mother and I were walking in the mall. I recall many details that are irrelevant, such as what we were wearing, the time, the date, and why we were at the mall. I remember the feeling I had that something was about to happen.
He was seated at a table in the Orange Julius, drinking a soda. Seated by him was a boy I recognized named Chris, who ranked high on the list of boys I found attractive. He was our age, athletic, and handsome. He’d sat in front of me in my sophomore English class, before I had changed schools. I’d studied his excellent posterior the better part of a school year. I felt a suspicion that Brian shared my taste.
Chris and I could never be rivals, not over Brian or anyone else. We’d got on well. I’d made him laugh once by pointing out an amusing spectacle during class. The teacher, annoyed by my whispering, demanded I share my observation with everyone. She thought I was talking about her. I wasn’t. I liked her, despite her suspicion to the contrary. I directed her attention to an adjacent chair, which was unoccupied. Seeing nothing, she repeated her demand. I said, “On that chair are a pair of fornicating flies.” One boy asked what fornicating meant. Coloring, she said, “You’re lying!” I said, “No, I’m not. We’ve got Romeo and Juliet back here.” She said, “Flies don’t do that.” I said, “These do. Come back here and see for yourself.” She declined. I received a detention or a suspension. All that mattered to me was that Chris thought it was amusing.
When they saw me, they whispered together. Should Brian ignore me or say hello? I stopped, unsure of what to say or do. Brian’s eyes met mine. I waved hello, expecting to be ignored by both of them, but I underestimated Brian. He disregarded the whispered counsel of Chris, who tried to stop him, and walked toward my mother and me. He greeted my mom, who had always liked him. Towards my mom, he felt a certain regard. Towards me, he felt contempt. The feeling filled all the space around him. I couldn’t prevail against it. He said how glad he was to see my mother and me, but his words sounded false. He studied my face for a reaction, smiling, expecting me to be annoyed, but I wasn't.
At that moment, my thoughts drifted back four years, when I watched from a second floor window as Brian’s mother pulled into our driveway in her small economy car. This was just a month into our friendship, when all was fresh and new between us. Brian opened the car door and stepped out. He was handsome, a dashing hero, a worthy friend. He looked up and noted the admiration in my expression. He smiled, gratified. I waved, but he only nodded, too cool to wave. In the next moment, his expression changed to one of alarm. He’d almost forgotten his Dungeons & Dragons books and dice! Had seeing me distracted him? I laughed. He darted back into the car, picked them up, and shut the door. We were going to play all day long and have a wonderful time. I raced down the stairs to greet him.
As I looked at my ex-friend, that memory seemed strange, as though from another life not my own. The corpse of our friendship was in an advanced stage of decomposition. I was persona non grata. He had already told me just what he thought of me. The time for words was long past, which is why I was silent.
He offered his hand, and I shook it. His grip was soft, not his familiar firm handshake. We parted on as good terms as can be expected. Later when I was alone at home, I wanted to call him. I picked up the phone, only to listen to the dial tone before placing it back. I knew all too well what his response would be.
He sometimes saw me at school. If I said hello, he might turn for an instant, but upon realizing the source, would turn away, and thereafter ignore me. It was as though I no longer existed in his reality. He had sworn that we would be friends forever, but I discovered the worth of his words.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Just Not Fast Enough
One of the things I have noticed as I've gotten older is that my reaction time has gone downhill. I am just not fast enough. An example of my slowness occurred in my Anatomy class today. Over the course of two weeks, I had studied about twenty hours for a test on the bones of the human body, including not just the bones but the parts of the bones, such as the tibial tuberosity on the tibia or the intertrochanteric crest on the femur. I can name and spell these parts without much difficulty. I also know the general locations at least according to the illustrations in my lab workbook. But if the same parts are presented to me out of context, without my familiar landmarks, I am liable to be lost. In particular, if I am shown a closeup photograph of an actual bone, depending upon its alignment (medial, lateral, anterior, posterior), I may be lost.
We had a test today in which we were allotted fifteen seconds per question to identify a Powerpoint presentation of bone parts based upon closeup photographs. After fifteen seconds, the photograph was gone forever, with no review possible. I had a difficult time. I fear that I performed poorly, despite all my studying. On some questions, I was unable to decide within the allotted time and wound up guessing, although I endeavored to make educated guesses whenever possible. The test was multiple choice, which meant I could eliminate answers that were obviously out of context. However, I am most doubtful I made an "A". This distresses me, because I invested much time in studying. I could sit down and draw several diagrams of the human body with most of the bones and bone parts correctly labeled. I know the material. But I am not quite good enough or fast enough to make a decision within fifteen seconds based upon snapshots of closeups of actual bones. Maybe it is because I am old and my brain has lost its reaction time. Maybe I did not study in the proper manner. I relied too much upon the lab book, when I should have spent more time in lab handling actual bones. The professor had warned us ahead of time that the test would be based upon photographs and closeups, so it is my fault, and my fault alone, if I did not heed the warning and spend more time in the lab handling bones.
This is par for the course as far as I am concerned, because I always do things the hard way, never the easy way. In so doing, sometimes I make observations that other people do not make, because they are traveling at high speed along a paved highway, whereas I am trudging by foot along a dirt road. Other times, I get waylaid by bandits, knocked senseless and robbed of all my possessions.
I am scared to check my actual score on the bones test. The professor said she would post them immediately and she usually does whenever we use the scantron form, which can be graded by a machine. However, my courage has been fortified by a 24 ounce serving of "Olde English 800 Malt Liquor," which has become my new favorite beer. Let me just take a little peek at my grade.
81%.
Hmm! Not as bad as I feared. My other A's should pull it up. Everyone had said that this was the toughest test of all anyway. My other scores on lab tests are 98 and 95. Word on the street is that the next lab test is a cinch, so I will shoot for 100.
We had a test today in which we were allotted fifteen seconds per question to identify a Powerpoint presentation of bone parts based upon closeup photographs. After fifteen seconds, the photograph was gone forever, with no review possible. I had a difficult time. I fear that I performed poorly, despite all my studying. On some questions, I was unable to decide within the allotted time and wound up guessing, although I endeavored to make educated guesses whenever possible. The test was multiple choice, which meant I could eliminate answers that were obviously out of context. However, I am most doubtful I made an "A". This distresses me, because I invested much time in studying. I could sit down and draw several diagrams of the human body with most of the bones and bone parts correctly labeled. I know the material. But I am not quite good enough or fast enough to make a decision within fifteen seconds based upon snapshots of closeups of actual bones. Maybe it is because I am old and my brain has lost its reaction time. Maybe I did not study in the proper manner. I relied too much upon the lab book, when I should have spent more time in lab handling actual bones. The professor had warned us ahead of time that the test would be based upon photographs and closeups, so it is my fault, and my fault alone, if I did not heed the warning and spend more time in the lab handling bones.
This is par for the course as far as I am concerned, because I always do things the hard way, never the easy way. In so doing, sometimes I make observations that other people do not make, because they are traveling at high speed along a paved highway, whereas I am trudging by foot along a dirt road. Other times, I get waylaid by bandits, knocked senseless and robbed of all my possessions.
I am scared to check my actual score on the bones test. The professor said she would post them immediately and she usually does whenever we use the scantron form, which can be graded by a machine. However, my courage has been fortified by a 24 ounce serving of "Olde English 800 Malt Liquor," which has become my new favorite beer. Let me just take a little peek at my grade.
81%.
Hmm! Not as bad as I feared. My other A's should pull it up. Everyone had said that this was the toughest test of all anyway. My other scores on lab tests are 98 and 95. Word on the street is that the next lab test is a cinch, so I will shoot for 100.
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