Me: The Night Writer, John Stewart; 50 years old and smart enough to have married my trophy wife first.
They're back!
Wife and daughter arrived safely from the distant land. Luggage to follow.
Gotta go. Kind of busy...
Gotta go. Kind of busy...
Thursday, July 28, 2005
I feel as if I've been drinking Red Bull through a Twizzler...
Another communications black out for my wife and daughter as they turn toward home ... almost. An engineer friend of mine from college is working in the capital city of the distant and mysterious land and he was able to cross paths with them last night. They tried using his international cell phone to get through to me but couldn't. He tried again a couple of hours ago and got through with an important message:
My wife wants me to buy her a watermelon.
I don't know if this is indicative of a desire on her part to eat fresh fruit that doesn't have to be sterilized first, or an indication of how much (or what) they may have had to drink at dinner. I'm leaning toward the former.
Anyway, my friend reports they are looking well and everything is in order for their return trip in just a few more hours. They're coming on a flight he himself has taken many times that is typically very punctual, and once even had the benefit of a 175 mph tailwind. Yes!
I am so stoked to see them again. I'm planning to go to Keegan's tonight for trivia and to celebrate surviving my singleness. If you see me you might want to allow a little space.
Yee-hah!
My wife wants me to buy her a watermelon.
I don't know if this is indicative of a desire on her part to eat fresh fruit that doesn't have to be sterilized first, or an indication of how much (or what) they may have had to drink at dinner. I'm leaning toward the former.
Anyway, my friend reports they are looking well and everything is in order for their return trip in just a few more hours. They're coming on a flight he himself has taken many times that is typically very punctual, and once even had the benefit of a 175 mph tailwind. Yes!
I am so stoked to see them again. I'm planning to go to Keegan's tonight for trivia and to celebrate surviving my singleness. If you see me you might want to allow a little space.
Yee-hah!
This just in...
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Moonbats on the hoof
I was out in my front yard last night, bringing in another bumper crop of dandelion greens for the guinea pig when two young ladies walked up my driveway. The one in front had unnaturally black hair and a demure ring in her right nostril. Her companion was wearing a St. Benedict's sweatshirt. Overall their attire suggested they might be homeless, or perhaps trying to raise money for a latte. Then I noticed the clipboard. Ah, a petition!
I had a hunch I probably wouldn't go along with whatever they were supporting, but I smiled pleasantly because that's what I do. They were also very sweet in demeanor. The first young lady informed me that they were in my neighborhood on behalf of NARAL to show support for protecting women's rights. "Do you support women's rights?" she asked me.
"Indeed I do," I said. "Just not in the way that your group goes about it."
"Do you mean you don't think asking people to sign petitions is a good idea?"
"No," I said, still smiling pleasantly. "I mean I support the rights of all women, including the unborn ones."
There was a bit of a pause as she cogitated my statement. Ding! "Oh, you're not pro-choice then," she said.
"Choose life," I said, still smiling. They thanked me and went off. I went in the house where Faith was waiting.
"What did they want?" she asked. I told her.
"Did you play with her mind like it was a drunk kitten?" she asked.
Sigh. "You know me so well."
I had a hunch I probably wouldn't go along with whatever they were supporting, but I smiled pleasantly because that's what I do. They were also very sweet in demeanor. The first young lady informed me that they were in my neighborhood on behalf of NARAL to show support for protecting women's rights. "Do you support women's rights?" she asked me.
"Indeed I do," I said. "Just not in the way that your group goes about it."
"Do you mean you don't think asking people to sign petitions is a good idea?"
"No," I said, still smiling pleasantly. "I mean I support the rights of all women, including the unborn ones."
There was a bit of a pause as she cogitated my statement. Ding! "Oh, you're not pro-choice then," she said.
"Choose life," I said, still smiling. They thanked me and went off. I went in the house where Faith was waiting.
"What did they want?" she asked. I told her.
"Did you play with her mind like it was a drunk kitten?" she asked.
Sigh. "You know me so well."
Top 11 reasons Chad's new son will blog
I've waited for Sisyphus at Nihilist in Golf Pants to jump on this, but now that he's watching the Real World on television it might be awhile. Therefore I'm borrowing the automatic Top 11 generating computer to commemorate the arrival of Chad the Elder's new son, and the tyke's imminent appearance as a Fraters contributor.
11. Has already received Hugh Hewitt autographed diaper bag and copy of "Blog."
10. Don't let the babyface fool you; it hasn't hurt Brian "St. Paul" Ward.
9. Falls asleep listening to NARN broadcasts (perhaps that's not so unique).
8. Already knows the difference between a tax and a fee.
7. Every bit as cute as David Strom and Margaret Martin.
6. Had Adam Smith's "Wealth of Nations" read to him in utero.
5. Already knows what Wellstone would do, and doesn't like it.
4. His custom onesies have Ronald Reagan's face on the front...and Ted Kennedy's on the butt.
3. Not intimidated by Atomizer's "Rock Solid" award.
2. MOB pool has him as the 3-1 favorite in the race to see who will post next between him and JB Doubtless.
1. He has to be ready to respond to whatever Nick Coleman's new baby writes.
11. Has already received Hugh Hewitt autographed diaper bag and copy of "Blog."
10. Don't let the babyface fool you; it hasn't hurt Brian "St. Paul" Ward.
9. Falls asleep listening to NARN broadcasts (perhaps that's not so unique).
8. Already knows the difference between a tax and a fee.
7. Every bit as cute as David Strom and Margaret Martin.
6. Had Adam Smith's "Wealth of Nations" read to him in utero.
5. Already knows what Wellstone would do, and doesn't like it.
4. His custom onesies have Ronald Reagan's face on the front...and Ted Kennedy's on the butt.
3. Not intimidated by Atomizer's "Rock Solid" award.
2. MOB pool has him as the 3-1 favorite in the race to see who will post next between him and JB Doubtless.
1. He has to be ready to respond to whatever Nick Coleman's new baby writes.
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
A little girl's prayer
I can't talk much yet about the things that are happening with my wife and daughter and their little group, but lately I've been reminded of something I received in an email a few years ago. It's an account by missionary Helen Roseveare of God's wondrous provision and encouragement. This story moved me so that I wanted to confirm it's authenticity, and with a little research I found out more about this remarkable woman and the tremendous impact she had in the Congo - at great personal cost. (See this link for more information.)
The story still moves me, even though I know it practically by heart. And it is always on my mind when we pack a Christmas box for Samaritan's Purse or put together a care package for our Soldier's Angels soldier. Sometimes all you need to do to be part of a miracle is simply listen...
Monday, July 25, 2005
No news from the dark side of the moon
We're in the countdown of the final days before my wife and youngest daughter return from their mission to a distant and mysterious land. Email communications had been regular since they arrived until this past weekend when they moved to a new place where we thought the connection might not be so readily available. By Tuesday evening they should be back in "range" and I eagerly await word of what has gone on since the last cliff-hanger message.
It's kind of like the days of the Apollo missions when Houston would lose contact with the spacecraft while it orbited the dark side of the moon, leaving the guys in Mission Control to stand vigil, watching the clock tick down until the ship came back into radio contact.
I calculate 12 hours, 15 minutes from now before I can first expect word.
Of course those crew-cut guys in their white shirts and dark ties in Mission Control were cool, calm veterans, relying on their technology and their elaborate testing, knowing the communications blackout was a natural, expected part of the plan, nothing to worry about and thank god they can smoke on the job and watching the clock gave them something to do to relieve the boredom. Really, what could go wrong?
T-minus 12 hours, 11 minutes.
We are operating under the assumption that emails in and out of the country where they are staying are being monitored, and we know certain words can lead to problems. Therefore, for example, we refer to prayer as "thinking." This part of their trip was scheduled to include a sight-seeing boat ride that would take them within view of the land of an elevator-shoe-wearing tyrant with bad hair and an even worse temper. My wife said they were planning to think deeply about this man and this country while they were that close.
Six years ago my wife went to the Philippines with a group to help train pastors and leaders of several churches that we are connected with over there. They were also going to conduct a three-night long children's crusade and my oldest daughter, then 10 or 11, was part of the team. That time I was left behind with our youngest, who was about five. In those days you could go right to the departure gate at the airport to see people off and everyone was holding up well until my wife disappeared down the jetway - where she fortunately couldn't hear our youngest begin to wail, "I want my mommy! I want my mommy!" This continued without let-up all the way back through the concourse as I carried her in my arms and waited for airport security to tackle me for attempted child abduction.
This time it's the little one who got to go, and the oldest daughter doesn't seem to be on the brink of a meltdown. We've hung out, sipped lattes, made a quick trip up to Duluth, and had some good talks. She's also found things to do to keep busy. I'm just not nearly as cuddly as her mom, however, and I know she misses curling up next to her to ask for help in figuring me out - at least that's what I figure they're giggling about since they get quiet and just grin at me if I walk into the room.
Just four more days and we'll all be back together to hear in detail about their adventures, the food, the people, the markets, the dead body that was left all day behind the place where they've been working...
T-minus 11 hours, 43 minutes.
It's kind of like the days of the Apollo missions when Houston would lose contact with the spacecraft while it orbited the dark side of the moon, leaving the guys in Mission Control to stand vigil, watching the clock tick down until the ship came back into radio contact.
I calculate 12 hours, 15 minutes from now before I can first expect word.
Of course those crew-cut guys in their white shirts and dark ties in Mission Control were cool, calm veterans, relying on their technology and their elaborate testing, knowing the communications blackout was a natural, expected part of the plan, nothing to worry about and thank god they can smoke on the job and watching the clock gave them something to do to relieve the boredom. Really, what could go wrong?
T-minus 12 hours, 11 minutes.
We are operating under the assumption that emails in and out of the country where they are staying are being monitored, and we know certain words can lead to problems. Therefore, for example, we refer to prayer as "thinking." This part of their trip was scheduled to include a sight-seeing boat ride that would take them within view of the land of an elevator-shoe-wearing tyrant with bad hair and an even worse temper. My wife said they were planning to think deeply about this man and this country while they were that close.
Six years ago my wife went to the Philippines with a group to help train pastors and leaders of several churches that we are connected with over there. They were also going to conduct a three-night long children's crusade and my oldest daughter, then 10 or 11, was part of the team. That time I was left behind with our youngest, who was about five. In those days you could go right to the departure gate at the airport to see people off and everyone was holding up well until my wife disappeared down the jetway - where she fortunately couldn't hear our youngest begin to wail, "I want my mommy! I want my mommy!" This continued without let-up all the way back through the concourse as I carried her in my arms and waited for airport security to tackle me for attempted child abduction.
This time it's the little one who got to go, and the oldest daughter doesn't seem to be on the brink of a meltdown. We've hung out, sipped lattes, made a quick trip up to Duluth, and had some good talks. She's also found things to do to keep busy. I'm just not nearly as cuddly as her mom, however, and I know she misses curling up next to her to ask for help in figuring me out - at least that's what I figure they're giggling about since they get quiet and just grin at me if I walk into the room.
Just four more days and we'll all be back together to hear in detail about their adventures, the food, the people, the markets, the dead body that was left all day behind the place where they've been working...
T-minus 11 hours, 43 minutes.
Update:
Hmmm. Sounds like my bachelor days. Mental note: clean bathroom before they get back.
"...so glad to be back in this hotel. It's a palace compared to what we had to endure in xxx. Moldy ceilings, dried feces on the toilet, a floor that is never vacuumed, overflowing toilets, rock hard beds, not enough light and on and on...."
Friday, July 22, 2005
Those gulags can be unpleasant
Andy at Residual Forces has the story and commentary on Sen. Ted Kennedy's visit to Massachusetts troops serving at Guantanamo Bay.
It appears, however, that the senator was not forced to women's underwear, though his face might have been flushed.
Check it out.
It appears, however, that the senator was not forced to women's underwear, though his face might have been flushed.
Check it out.
And your mother dresses you funny
Michelle Malkin noted this article from Robin Givhan at the Washington Post. It included this:
And this...
OK, they're having trouble so far getting political traction against the nominee, they've tried "outing" his wife as a radical Catholic who volunteers in her church and for pro-life organizations, and now it's time to go after the kids by saying, "you're too perfect and your mother dresses you funny."
Look, the president didn't invite the family to drop by the White House for a cook-out. Perhaps the family's thought process went, "Hmmm, president, White House, cameras...flip-flops or church clothes?"
Here's another thought (which puts me at least two ahead of Ms. Givhan): how about Ozzy Osbourne for Chief Justice?
It has been a long time since so much syrupy nostalgia has been in evidence at the White House. But Tuesday night, when President Bush announced his choice for the next associate justice of the Supreme Court, it was hard not to marvel at the 1950s-style tableau vivant that was John Roberts and his family.
There they were — John, Jane, Josie and Jack — standing with the president and before the entire country. The nominee was in a sober suit with the expected white shirt and red tie. His wife and children stood before the cameras, groomed and glossy in pastel hues — like a trio of Easter eggs, a handful of Jelly Bellies, three little Necco wafers...
And this...
In a time when most children are dressed in Gap Kids and retailers of similar price-point and modernity, the parents put young master Jack in an ensemble that calls to mind John F. "John-John" Kennedy Jr.
Separate the child from the clothes, which do not acknowledge trends, popular culture or the passing of time. They are not classic; they are old-fashioned. These clothes are Old World, old money and a cut above the light-up/shoe-buying hoi polloi.
OK, they're having trouble so far getting political traction against the nominee, they've tried "outing" his wife as a radical Catholic who volunteers in her church and for pro-life organizations, and now it's time to go after the kids by saying, "you're too perfect and your mother dresses you funny."
Look, the president didn't invite the family to drop by the White House for a cook-out. Perhaps the family's thought process went, "Hmmm, president, White House, cameras...flip-flops or church clothes?"
Here's another thought (which puts me at least two ahead of Ms. Givhan): how about Ozzy Osbourne for Chief Justice?
Good on ya, mate!
Hugh Hewitt posts Australian Prime Minister John Howard's comments in response to the latest terrorism in London, and whether Australia has made itself a target by supporting the war in Iraq:
"The first point of reference is that once a country allows its foreign policy to be determined by terrorism, it has given the game away, to use the venacular, and no Australian government that I lead will ever have policies determined by terrorism or terrorist threats, and no self respecting government of any political stripe in Australia would allow that to happen. Can I remind you that the murder of 88 Australians in Bali took place before the operation in Iraq? And can I remind you that the 11th of September occured before the operation in Iraq? Can I also remind you that the very first occasion that bin Laden specifically referred to Australia was in the context of Australia's involvement in liberating the people of East Timor? Are people by implication suggesting that we shouldn't have done that? When a group claimed responsibility on the website for the attacks on the 7th of July, they talked about British policy not just in Iraq but in Afghanistan. Are people suggesting we shouldn't be in Afghanistan? When Sergio DeMillo was murdered in Iraq, a brave man, a distinguished international diplmat, immensely respected for his work in the United Nations, when al Qaeda gloated about that, they referred specifically to the role that DeMillo had carried out in East Timor because he was the United Nations administrator in East Timor. Now I don't know the minds of the terrorist. By definition you can't put yourself in the mind of a successful suicide bomber. I can only look at objective facts. And the objective facts are as I have cited. The objective fact is that Australia was a terrorist target long before the operation in Iraq and indeed all the evidence as distinct from the suppositions suggest to me that this is about hatred of a way of life, this is about the perverted use of the principles of a great world religion, that at its root preaches peace and cooperation, and I think we lose sight of the challenge we have if we allow ourselves to see these attacks in the context of particular circumstances rather than the abuse through a perverted ideology of people and their murder."
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Filings: What's "good" for you?
A friend of mine e-mailed to gently chide me about a recent post I wrote drawing parallels between the Supreme Court decisions on Kelo and the Ten Commandments and how the Constitution and the Ten Commandments concern themselves with standards of behavior. In that post I had a toss-off line (I buy them three for a dollar) that "in my opinion, those who find the Commandments offensive are offended more by the suggestion that there should be such a standard of behavior (other than their own) than by the mention of God." I'll include his entire comment later in this post, but the part of it that was most related to my original essay and the struggle I see is as follows:
We believe that standards of behavior as established by the state should not pander to any one religious order but rather to the collective will of the moralities of all the American religions, which includes no religion. Contrary to fundamentalist belief, even humanists have morality.
: )
Oh my goodness.
Or is it, "Oh, my goodness"?
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
99 - 0
I have to be up and out earlier than usual Wednesday morning so the unfinished post I'm currently working on will have to wait until tomorrow. I hope you'll ultimately think it is worth the wait, but in the meantime I'd like to direct your attention to this Tuesday evening update from Varifrank on President Bush's Supreme Court nominee, who was previously confirmed unanimously by the Senate for his present seat on the U.S. Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia:
With Justice Roberts' previous confirmation it is going to take a lot of Poligrip for certain senators to get those fangs back in their mouths. Not that they won't try, of course (and special interest groups will be rushing boxes of the stuff to their offices). In the meantime, count on a lot of gums flapping and lips sputtering.
I don't know much about the Judge Roberts beyond the initial information, but on a political level this is a breath-taking stroke by the man the left considers too stupid to be president.
UPDATE: Judge John C. Roberts Jr.
NOT - The two Ediths.
NOT - Alberto Gonzalez.
NOT - John Cornyn.
NOT - A Woman.
Don't Pundits have some sort of a shelf life if they continue to guess wrong?
UPDATE: Confirmed by 99-0 in the Senate. That means Schumer voted for him, Boxer voted for him, Reid voted for him. Kerry voted for him. What are they going to say? Oh we didn't mean it? Oh, but look at his record? We have concerns? How does Schumer get to say "I didn't vote for him in committee but I voted for him in the full Senate?
I have no doubt that the left will now paint this excellent pick as the spewed-from-his-forehead-spawn-of-satan himself.
See, Winning counts.
With Justice Roberts' previous confirmation it is going to take a lot of Poligrip for certain senators to get those fangs back in their mouths. Not that they won't try, of course (and special interest groups will be rushing boxes of the stuff to their offices). In the meantime, count on a lot of gums flapping and lips sputtering.
I don't know much about the Judge Roberts beyond the initial information, but on a political level this is a breath-taking stroke by the man the left considers too stupid to be president.
Monday, July 18, 2005
The horror, the horror
Saw this over on Amy Ridenour's National Center blog:
Just think what information we could get from the detainees if we threw in a couple of screaming two-year-olds and also made them cook breakfast for the rest of the camp. And if that didn't break them we could then send in ... the breast pump.
Regarding Gitmo Torture Allegations...
...if wearing a bra and being forced to stay awake 20 hours straight constitutes torture, 99 percent of all mothers of newborns qualify as torture victims.
Just think what information we could get from the detainees if we threw in a couple of screaming two-year-olds and also made them cook breakfast for the rest of the camp. And if that didn't break them we could then send in ... the breast pump.
Bulletin: France raises terrorist alert level
I received this story today in my e-mail:
I haven't been able to conclusively verify this story, but it could be true.
Be aware that the French government announced yesterday that it
has raised its terror alert level from 'Run' to 'Hide'. The only two higher levels in France are 'Surrender' and 'Collaborate'. The rise was precipitated by a recent fire which destroyed France's only white flag factory, effectively paralyzing their military.
I haven't been able to conclusively verify this story, but it could be true.
Friday, July 15, 2005
You're a great audience, and don't forget to tip your waitresses!
I've always wanted to say that! Here's why:
Today I'm up to the fifth month of the six-month trial blogging period I set for myself when I started this blog. During this time I've had people ask me why I blog and I think this is a great question - a question I was asking myself before I even started and for which I still don't have a firm answer.
There is one analogy, however, that I think fits: this blog is my garage band. You see, ever since I was a kid I've wanted to be a singer in a hot band. The problem is, I can't sing a lick (or play one for that matter) and my sense of rhythm is such that no band would ever let me shake a tambourine (more cowbell!). For that matter, my dancing is even worse than my singing, and I have little artistic ability. But, oh, to be in a band! It wouldn't even have to be a great band, or even a band with a recording contract. Just to be good enough to be in a garage band would be so cool.
Why do people play in garage bands? Obviously, I can't say. Some perhaps hope to be "discovered" but I'd hazard to say that few see it as a way to fame and fortune. Some musicians may just like collaborating with others to create something. Others see it as a fun way to make some money doing something they enjoy, and perhaps for others it is just because they love to make music - whether anyone else likes it or not. Perhaps if you asked them, they'd have as hard a time finding a single answer as I have in answering people who ask me why I blog.
The only skill I have is in observation and stringing words together. I don't think I'm a bad public speaker when the opportunity arises, but my "stage" is likely to always be obscure. Blogging gives me the opportunity to use the gift, such as it is, that has been given to me, to stretch out the boundaries of my comfort zone and appreciate whatever satisfaction I get from doing so.
Perhaps musicians of every ability also yearn for those moments when they get that perfect mix of time and place where the music transcends the mere notes themselves and touch a soul. Me too! Somewhere out there is the perfect line waiting to be written; the perfect note of irony in response to the day's events; the sparest description that illuminates completely; the spark of inspiration that starts a brushfire in someone's mind - the shock of recognition that causes someone to say, "Yes, yes! That is exactly what it is like to be me, and now I see myself in a slightly different light!"
Umm..okay, getting a little carried away there. I think, however, that this is at the heart of why I blog. I don't do it to become rich and famous (though that would be nice). I don't do it to change the world (though that would be nice, too). I certainly hope people enjoy the experience, but, essentially, it's about my enjoyment first.
Earlier this week Joe Carter at the Evangelical Outpost wrote about the addiction he sometimes feels toward his Site Meter count and Technorati and TTLB rankings. To which I have to say, "Preach it, brother." I check my own counts at least a couple of times a day, and I'm fascinated by the "referrals" page that shows from where people are coming to my blog. Some of the Google references have been very interesting. I suppose this is displays a weakness of character on my part, but as Joe himself has said, "If you don't care if anyone reads you then you don't have a blog, you have a diary."
Like others who have gazed at their own blogging navel recently, the things I appreciate about the last few months are the many new friends I've met (some in person, some only electronically), the comments and trackbacks I get that show I've made at least a small ripple somewhere. Here's to you, Leo, Kelley G, Emily, Muzzy, Sandy and the rest of the Squad, Bruce, Derek, the NARN, Kevin, the Saint and Roller Pauls, Doug and all the other MOBsters. Without this contact this blog wouldn't have lasted a month.
One month - or six months - from now, who knows? I still haven't come up with a satisfactory answer to the first question I posed to myself when I considered starting this blog: How will I tell if this is successful or not? One thing I am learning - and that I wouldn't have expected when I started - is that success may be measured, but not defined, by Site Meter or NZ Bear. I think a large part of it has to do with the people I mentioned above, and the ones I've yet to "meet."
Thank you, and good night! Rock on!
Today I'm up to the fifth month of the six-month trial blogging period I set for myself when I started this blog. During this time I've had people ask me why I blog and I think this is a great question - a question I was asking myself before I even started and for which I still don't have a firm answer.
There is one analogy, however, that I think fits: this blog is my garage band. You see, ever since I was a kid I've wanted to be a singer in a hot band. The problem is, I can't sing a lick (or play one for that matter) and my sense of rhythm is such that no band would ever let me shake a tambourine (more cowbell!). For that matter, my dancing is even worse than my singing, and I have little artistic ability. But, oh, to be in a band! It wouldn't even have to be a great band, or even a band with a recording contract. Just to be good enough to be in a garage band would be so cool.
Why do people play in garage bands? Obviously, I can't say. Some perhaps hope to be "discovered" but I'd hazard to say that few see it as a way to fame and fortune. Some musicians may just like collaborating with others to create something. Others see it as a fun way to make some money doing something they enjoy, and perhaps for others it is just because they love to make music - whether anyone else likes it or not. Perhaps if you asked them, they'd have as hard a time finding a single answer as I have in answering people who ask me why I blog.
The only skill I have is in observation and stringing words together. I don't think I'm a bad public speaker when the opportunity arises, but my "stage" is likely to always be obscure. Blogging gives me the opportunity to use the gift, such as it is, that has been given to me, to stretch out the boundaries of my comfort zone and appreciate whatever satisfaction I get from doing so.
Perhaps musicians of every ability also yearn for those moments when they get that perfect mix of time and place where the music transcends the mere notes themselves and touch a soul. Me too! Somewhere out there is the perfect line waiting to be written; the perfect note of irony in response to the day's events; the sparest description that illuminates completely; the spark of inspiration that starts a brushfire in someone's mind - the shock of recognition that causes someone to say, "Yes, yes! That is exactly what it is like to be me, and now I see myself in a slightly different light!"
Umm..okay, getting a little carried away there. I think, however, that this is at the heart of why I blog. I don't do it to become rich and famous (though that would be nice). I don't do it to change the world (though that would be nice, too). I certainly hope people enjoy the experience, but, essentially, it's about my enjoyment first.
Earlier this week Joe Carter at the Evangelical Outpost wrote about the addiction he sometimes feels toward his Site Meter count and Technorati and TTLB rankings. To which I have to say, "Preach it, brother." I check my own counts at least a couple of times a day, and I'm fascinated by the "referrals" page that shows from where people are coming to my blog. Some of the Google references have been very interesting. I suppose this is displays a weakness of character on my part, but as Joe himself has said, "If you don't care if anyone reads you then you don't have a blog, you have a diary."
Like others who have gazed at their own blogging navel recently, the things I appreciate about the last few months are the many new friends I've met (some in person, some only electronically), the comments and trackbacks I get that show I've made at least a small ripple somewhere. Here's to you, Leo, Kelley G, Emily, Muzzy, Sandy and the rest of the Squad, Bruce, Derek, the NARN, Kevin, the Saint and Roller Pauls, Doug and all the other MOBsters. Without this contact this blog wouldn't have lasted a month.
One month - or six months - from now, who knows? I still haven't come up with a satisfactory answer to the first question I posed to myself when I considered starting this blog: How will I tell if this is successful or not? One thing I am learning - and that I wouldn't have expected when I started - is that success may be measured, but not defined, by Site Meter or NZ Bear. I think a large part of it has to do with the people I mentioned above, and the ones I've yet to "meet."
Thank you, and good night! Rock on!
Thursday, July 14, 2005
16th century blogging
While browsing an estate sale last weekend I came across a small book entitled "The Art of Wordly Wisdom," a collection of aphorisms from the works of Baltasar Gracian (Martin Fischer translation). How could I pass on all that when it was only a buck?
Gracian, a Jesuit scholar and advisor to the royal court, was frequently on the outs with both his order and the court and eventually was imprisoned and had his books banned. The book I picked up consists of brief excerpts from his writings that can be read at random. Here are a couple:
Sounds like a case for being a moderate, but I like the part about "inflexibility should lie in the will and not in the judgement", which to me means we should hold fast to principle over politics, especially since there are "exceptions" such as mentioned in the last line above. These exceptions would no doubt include the following:
Go here for a brief biography of Gracian.
Gracian, a Jesuit scholar and advisor to the royal court, was frequently on the outs with both his order and the court and eventually was imprisoned and had his books banned. The book I picked up consists of brief excerpts from his writings that can be read at random. Here are a couple:
Hold to nothing too violently. Every fool stands convinced, and everyone convinced is a fool, and the faultier a man's judgement, the firmer his conviction; even with proof on your side, it is well to make concession, for your reasons are known and your gentlemanliness is recognized; more is lost in contention than can be gained in consummation; for such does not defend the truth, but only exhibits bad manner; blockheads are difficult or impossible of conversion; for when conviction is joined to obstinacy, both are indissolubly married to stupidity. Inflexibility should lie in the will, and not in the judgement. Yet there be exceptions when you may not yield without danger of being twice conquered; first in your decision and then in its execution.
Sounds like a case for being a moderate, but I like the part about "inflexibility should lie in the will and not in the judgement", which to me means we should hold fast to principle over politics, especially since there are "exceptions" such as mentioned in the last line above. These exceptions would no doubt include the following:
The world is in chaos. Right dealing is finished and truth is held the liar; good friends are few; good service is underpaid, poor service is overpaid. Whole nations are committed to evil dealings; with one you fear insecurity, with another, inconsistency, with a third, treason; wherefore, let this bad faith of others serve you, not as an example, but as warning. The peril of the situation lies in the unhinging of your own integrity: accepting less than your best, being overly tolerant of stupidity, forgiving incompetence, fraternizing with the nonspiritual. The man of principle never forgets what he is, because he clearly sees what the others are.
Go here for a brief biography of Gracian.
One down, 16 to go
I had 10 years of single life back in the day, in which time I managed to cook (not just heat), shop for groceries, do my laundry and ironing, not be startled by the sound of the vacuum and even clean the bathroom (admittedly usually only when it was time to move). I even weaned a couple of housemates off of SpaghettiOs, showing them it was scarcely any more work to make real spaghetti than to heat that glop. Therefore life on my own (or life on my own with an almost 17-year-old) shouldn't be too tough (see yesterday's post "And They're Off"), especially since I still do the laundry and I'm responsible for my own ironing.
Day one of my single-life interlude and I come downstairs thinking about being able to brush my teeth without having to bob in and out of the bathroom between my wife's ministrations of makeup and hairspray. Great - just eat, brush and go. But then the guinea pig starts squealing; he's used to being fed at least an hour earlier than when I made my appearance. Out to the yard for dandelions to mix in with Timothy hay and some green beans. When I come back in the bird is cursing again and the cat keeps trying to lie down in front of my feet. My daughter's voice comes down the stairs, "Daddykins - I'm running late. Can you make me one of your egg sandwiches?" Why sure, missy. I can bring home the bacon, fry it up in the pan ... I've got this under control.
Oh wait, food. That reminds me...dinner! You see, the secret is you've got to have a plan. If I don't figure out now what we're doing for dinner tonight then it's likely to be dandelion greens for the pig and us. I look in the freezer where we've been squirelling away extra portions from our dinners the last few weeks. I pull out a couple of foil-wrapped bricks, cryptically labelled "Italian baked dish." I figure we must have liked it or it wouldn't have gone into the freezer, so I move the bricks to the refrigerator and efficiently take out the eggs and cheese for the breakfast sandwich, nearly tripping over the cat again when I turn around. When it is all said and done, somehow or another I end up leaving the house 15 minutes later than usual.
This evening I came home earlier than normal and lovingly tossed the Italian baked dish bricks into the oven. My daughter arrived, claiming to be so famished that she is about to pass out. Mr. Henri is once again there in a pinch. "Hauh, hauh, zit down, din-nehr iz about to be served." I pull the bricks out of the oven and unwrap them. Oh, I remember this stuff; it is good. Not quite warmed through yet, but that's why God gave us microwaves. But when I set the now-steaming portions down on the island I realize that I have not provided a vegetable. Oh well. "Take your vitamins," I say, pointing to her pills. I reach into the refrigerator for a couple of bottles of water and twist off the tops. "Here is a refreshing beverage. You might want to let that breathe a little before you drink it."
Later, as we're finishing up, I ask her what she'd like to have for dinner tomorrow night. "Dad," she says, "tomorrow night is my open house, remember?" Oh, the open house for the new building her school has just moved into. Right. "Um," I say, "is there going to be food?"
"Uh-huh."
Yessss! I can do this. Just 16 more days to go.
Day one of my single-life interlude and I come downstairs thinking about being able to brush my teeth without having to bob in and out of the bathroom between my wife's ministrations of makeup and hairspray. Great - just eat, brush and go. But then the guinea pig starts squealing; he's used to being fed at least an hour earlier than when I made my appearance. Out to the yard for dandelions to mix in with Timothy hay and some green beans. When I come back in the bird is cursing again and the cat keeps trying to lie down in front of my feet. My daughter's voice comes down the stairs, "Daddykins - I'm running late. Can you make me one of your egg sandwiches?" Why sure, missy. I can bring home the bacon, fry it up in the pan ... I've got this under control.
Oh wait, food. That reminds me...dinner! You see, the secret is you've got to have a plan. If I don't figure out now what we're doing for dinner tonight then it's likely to be dandelion greens for the pig and us. I look in the freezer where we've been squirelling away extra portions from our dinners the last few weeks. I pull out a couple of foil-wrapped bricks, cryptically labelled "Italian baked dish." I figure we must have liked it or it wouldn't have gone into the freezer, so I move the bricks to the refrigerator and efficiently take out the eggs and cheese for the breakfast sandwich, nearly tripping over the cat again when I turn around. When it is all said and done, somehow or another I end up leaving the house 15 minutes later than usual.
This evening I came home earlier than normal and lovingly tossed the Italian baked dish bricks into the oven. My daughter arrived, claiming to be so famished that she is about to pass out. Mr. Henri is once again there in a pinch. "Hauh, hauh, zit down, din-nehr iz about to be served." I pull the bricks out of the oven and unwrap them. Oh, I remember this stuff; it is good. Not quite warmed through yet, but that's why God gave us microwaves. But when I set the now-steaming portions down on the island I realize that I have not provided a vegetable. Oh well. "Take your vitamins," I say, pointing to her pills. I reach into the refrigerator for a couple of bottles of water and twist off the tops. "Here is a refreshing beverage. You might want to let that breathe a little before you drink it."
Later, as we're finishing up, I ask her what she'd like to have for dinner tomorrow night. "Dad," she says, "tomorrow night is my open house, remember?" Oh, the open house for the new building her school has just moved into. Right. "Um," I say, "is there going to be food?"
"Uh-huh."
Yessss! I can do this. Just 16 more days to go.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
American History Quiz
Here's another easy American History question that was somehow left off of Keegan's trivia quiz last Thursday (in which the Night Writer, Tiger Lilly, Policy Guy and Water Cooler Wisdom team was 25 for 25 in the main quiz and 2/3 in the tie-breaker).
Who made the following statement on October 8, 2002?
A: George W. Bush
B: Kofi Annan
C: Hillary Clinton
D: Alfred E. Newman
This is one of the interesting tidbits you'll find over at John Hawkins' post "Debunking 8 Anti-War Myths About The Conflict In Iraq". The post includes the facts and history behind commonly accepted and unchallenged statements such as: 1) George Bush Lied About Weapons of Mass Destruction in Iraq; 2) A study released in March of 2003 by a British medical journal, the Lancet, showed that 100,000 civilians had been killed as a result of the US invasion; 3) The Bush Administration claimed Iraq was responsible for 9/11; 4) The war in Iraq was actually planned by people like Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld, and Paul Wolfowitz back in 1998 at a think tank called the Project for the New American Century; 5) The war on terror has nothing to do with Iraq; 6) Saddam Hussein had no ties to terrorism; 7) Saddam Hussein had no ties to Al-Qaeda, and; 8) The Downing Street Memo proves Bush lied to the American people about the war.
Check them out. (HT: Mitch Berg at Shot in the Dark.)
Who made the following statement on October 8, 2002?
"In the four years since the inspectors left, intelligence reports show that Saddam Hussein has worked to rebuild his chemical and biological weapons stock, his missile delivery capability, and his nuclear program. He has also given aid, comfort, and sanctuary to terrorists, including Al Qaeda members, though there is apparently no evidence of his involvement in the terrible events of September 11, 2001. It is clear, however, that if left unchecked, Saddam Hussein will continue to increase his capacity to wage biological and chemical warfare, and will keep trying to develop nuclear weapons. Should he succeed in that endeavor, he could alter the political and security landscape of the Middle East, which as we know all too well affects American security."
A: George W. Bush
B: Kofi Annan
C: Hillary Clinton
D: Alfred E. Newman
This is one of the interesting tidbits you'll find over at John Hawkins' post "Debunking 8 Anti-War Myths About The Conflict In Iraq". The post includes the facts and history behind commonly accepted and unchallenged statements such as: 1) George Bush Lied About Weapons of Mass Destruction in Iraq; 2) A study released in March of 2003 by a British medical journal, the Lancet, showed that 100,000 civilians had been killed as a result of the US invasion; 3) The Bush Administration claimed Iraq was responsible for 9/11; 4) The war in Iraq was actually planned by people like Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld, and Paul Wolfowitz back in 1998 at a think tank called the Project for the New American Century; 5) The war on terror has nothing to do with Iraq; 6) Saddam Hussein had no ties to terrorism; 7) Saddam Hussein had no ties to Al-Qaeda, and; 8) The Downing Street Memo proves Bush lied to the American people about the war.
Check them out. (HT: Mitch Berg at Shot in the Dark.)
And they're off...
The day came upon us at last. I took Night Visions and Patience to the airport early this a.m. to begin winging their way toward a distant and mysterious land where they will be ministering to abandoned children. There will be but mere hours left in this month before I see them again.
There is little concern for their physical safety, but they will be operating under conditions that are environmentally and politically...problematic. For those and other reasons I will be general in describing where they're going and what they'll be doing (even after they return) because there is much good work that is at risk. It will be a life-changing experience for both of them, and perhaps for many others as well.
It may even be life-changing for me. It will certainly be routine-busting. I'll get a taste of single-parenthood and my own cooking, and will have occasion, I'm sure, to wonder what happened to the mysterious elves that pick up after me (I hope my wife didn't take them with her).
It's not an easy thing to send them off, though it may appear to some as if I do so lightly. We're a very close family and appreciate what we have...and at times I perhaps guard it too jealously as if I were the only defense, forgetting the limits of my powers. My wife and I, however, consider ourselves stewards of all that we have received from God, including (especially) our children, knowing that while they may be ours, they are indeed meant for others. And so have they been raised.
This trip has been on Patience's heart for three years since she first heard the first-hand accounts from a friend of ours of this foreign land and of the children being lost. She knew, one day, she would go. When the door opened unexpectedly this year her path was clear, her resolve was strong and her age irrelevant. Her mother, too, felt the undeniable tug. Certainly suffering is everywhere and confronting it doesn't require a passport and innoculations, but for this particular time and for this particular place, this is where they know they are to be. I had every right and every instinct to go with them, but not the release, so now I am where I need to be.
Let's see what happens.
There is little concern for their physical safety, but they will be operating under conditions that are environmentally and politically...problematic. For those and other reasons I will be general in describing where they're going and what they'll be doing (even after they return) because there is much good work that is at risk. It will be a life-changing experience for both of them, and perhaps for many others as well.
It may even be life-changing for me. It will certainly be routine-busting. I'll get a taste of single-parenthood and my own cooking, and will have occasion, I'm sure, to wonder what happened to the mysterious elves that pick up after me (I hope my wife didn't take them with her).
It's not an easy thing to send them off, though it may appear to some as if I do so lightly. We're a very close family and appreciate what we have...and at times I perhaps guard it too jealously as if I were the only defense, forgetting the limits of my powers. My wife and I, however, consider ourselves stewards of all that we have received from God, including (especially) our children, knowing that while they may be ours, they are indeed meant for others. And so have they been raised.
This trip has been on Patience's heart for three years since she first heard the first-hand accounts from a friend of ours of this foreign land and of the children being lost. She knew, one day, she would go. When the door opened unexpectedly this year her path was clear, her resolve was strong and her age irrelevant. Her mother, too, felt the undeniable tug. Certainly suffering is everywhere and confronting it doesn't require a passport and innoculations, but for this particular time and for this particular place, this is where they know they are to be. I had every right and every instinct to go with them, but not the release, so now I am where I need to be.
Let's see what happens.
Monday, July 11, 2005
Originalism sin
Any Supreme Court nominee who's more interested in what the Constitution actually says rather than what it might have said if the framers had been more enlightened is sure to draw a lot of fire from certain Senators...from both parties. This view of the Constitution, referred to as "originalism" or "constitutionalism" - and often in the same tone of voice as one might refer to the Flat Earth Theory - was the hallmark of Justice Robert Bork.
Judge Bork and the tempestous circus surrounding his failed confirmation in 1987 will be mentioned frequently in the coming weeks. As such, it is interesting to read his opening statement to the Senate Judiciary Committee during his confirmation hearing to see just what Senators Kennedy, Specter and others "saved" our Republic from (resulting in Justice Anthony Kennedy and his more global view of legal interpretation).
Here's an excerpt (HT: Amy Ridenour's National Center Blog):
Judge Bork and the tempestous circus surrounding his failed confirmation in 1987 will be mentioned frequently in the coming weeks. As such, it is interesting to read his opening statement to the Senate Judiciary Committee during his confirmation hearing to see just what Senators Kennedy, Specter and others "saved" our Republic from (resulting in Justice Anthony Kennedy and his more global view of legal interpretation).
Here's an excerpt (HT: Amy Ridenour's National Center Blog):
"If a judge abandons intention as his guide, there is no law available to him and he begins to legislate a social agenda for the American people. That goes well beyond his legitimate power."
Friday, July 8, 2005
Inconceivable!
One of the many great lines from the movie The Princess Bride is when Inego Montoya says to the nefarious plotter, Venzini: "You keep using that word. I don't think it means what you think it means."
There are those today who also seem to have a lack of comprehension (but not confidence) over the meaning of certain words. You know, complex, multi-syllable words such as:
Gulag.
Torture.
Moderate.
Or, how about this one: theocracy.
There are those in this country who are ever-alert to defend against any signs of encroaching theocracy and who quite visibly stand fast against any appeasement with their perceived enemy.
Unless it's Islamic theocracy, that is.
Not that there aren't many who see equivalence between the militant Islamists with their law of Sharia and those who think it's a fine idea to display the Ten Commandments on public property. It's just that I'm wondering how many of these people are also quick to attribute the terrorist attacks (HT: Questions and Answers)as natural and even justifiable reactions to U.S. and/or Western provocations.
I mean, based on that logic, wouldn't it be true that the militancy of the incipient American theocracy is simply a reaction to the secularists mucking about? Shouldn't Ted Kennedy and friends be talking about setting an "exit date" for their withdrawal from society to spare everyone from this moral quagmire?
"It's not the same thing!" they might cry, and of course they'd be right. The militant Christians aren't blowing people up or executing envoys from other countries. Then again, "perspective" is another word they might want to look up.
(Speaking of proper usage of words, Captain Ed linked an excellent post from Dafydd on why the word "Islamofascist" is incorrect.)
There are those today who also seem to have a lack of comprehension (but not confidence) over the meaning of certain words. You know, complex, multi-syllable words such as:
Gulag.
Torture.
Moderate.
Or, how about this one: theocracy.
There are those in this country who are ever-alert to defend against any signs of encroaching theocracy and who quite visibly stand fast against any appeasement with their perceived enemy.
Unless it's Islamic theocracy, that is.
Not that there aren't many who see equivalence between the militant Islamists with their law of Sharia and those who think it's a fine idea to display the Ten Commandments on public property. It's just that I'm wondering how many of these people are also quick to attribute the terrorist attacks (HT: Questions and Answers)as natural and even justifiable reactions to U.S. and/or Western provocations.
I mean, based on that logic, wouldn't it be true that the militancy of the incipient American theocracy is simply a reaction to the secularists mucking about? Shouldn't Ted Kennedy and friends be talking about setting an "exit date" for their withdrawal from society to spare everyone from this moral quagmire?
"It's not the same thing!" they might cry, and of course they'd be right. The militant Christians aren't blowing people up or executing envoys from other countries. Then again, "perspective" is another word they might want to look up.
(Speaking of proper usage of words, Captain Ed linked an excellent post from Dafydd on why the word "Islamofascist" is incorrect.)
Wednesday, July 6, 2005
We've got spirit, how 'bout you?
Jay Rosen is reading about and hearing from all the activists gearing up to spend big money on the upcoming battle over Supreme Court nominees and doesn't know what it is good for.
It's a good point in so far as groups on both sides pouring money into television commercials and other events should have little direct effect on the votes of 100 senators. Of course, it's not about influencing voters but about rallying the faithful. This is going to be the Super Bowl of politics this year and what's a big game without cheerleaders and rowdy fans to inspire their team and intimidate the opposition? The back-and-forth is merely the political version of the old "We've got spirit, yes we do, we've got spirit how 'bout you?" chant. Even though the Dems and their fanatics will - like the old AFL in the pre-merger Super Bowls - be trying to show they're relevant, they have to feel encouraged that some Republicans have shown themselves to be easily intimidated.
Therefore the orchestrated cheering has already begun, and from the Left I hear chestnuts such as:
Even though President Bush has suggested that we all play nice, I wouldn't mind some New York-style hazing, ala the Daryl Strawberry era, when Chuck Schumer gets up to flap his gums. Can't you just hear the crowd sing-songing, "Schooo-merrr! Schooo-merrr!" Or how about these cheers and chants from the Right:
And could it be any sweeter when it's all over than for the Righties to taunt the Left with "Here comes the judge! Here comes the judge!"?
Of course, the insiders refer to all of this as "activating the base," which really means "getting the base to cough up even more money." After all, what's a Super Bowl without commercials?
In the last election, 121 million votes were cast, and each one of those people could (in theory) be influenced by a media campaign. On the coming nomination, 100 United States Senators vote. Can they be influenced in the same way? The press is saying: yeah, they can. But it cannot be so.
It's a good point in so far as groups on both sides pouring money into television commercials and other events should have little direct effect on the votes of 100 senators. Of course, it's not about influencing voters but about rallying the faithful. This is going to be the Super Bowl of politics this year and what's a big game without cheerleaders and rowdy fans to inspire their team and intimidate the opposition? The back-and-forth is merely the political version of the old "We've got spirit, yes we do, we've got spirit how 'bout you?" chant. Even though the Dems and their fanatics will - like the old AFL in the pre-merger Super Bowls - be trying to show they're relevant, they have to feel encouraged that some Republicans have shown themselves to be easily intimidated.
Therefore the orchestrated cheering has already begun, and from the Left I hear chestnuts such as:
Here we go, Moonbats, here we go!
Babies don't vote! Babies don't vote!
2-4-6-8 - who's character do we assassinate?
Filibuster! Filibuster! Don't invoke cloture! We've got war, for the culture!
Ree, ree, ree, attack the nominee!
Ras, ras, ras, our thumb is in our ...
Even though President Bush has suggested that we all play nice, I wouldn't mind some New York-style hazing, ala the Daryl Strawberry era, when Chuck Schumer gets up to flap his gums. Can't you just hear the crowd sing-songing, "Schooo-merrr! Schooo-merrr!" Or how about these cheers and chants from the Right:
Hey-hey, ho-ho, reconstructionists got to go!
Teddy, Teddy, he's all wet!
Elections have consequences! Elections have consequences!
Give me another S! Give me another C! Give me another A! Give me another L! Give me another I! Give me another A! What's that spell!
And could it be any sweeter when it's all over than for the Righties to taunt the Left with "Here comes the judge! Here comes the judge!"?
Of course, the insiders refer to all of this as "activating the base," which really means "getting the base to cough up even more money." After all, what's a Super Bowl without commercials?
Tuesday, July 5, 2005
Flippin' bird
I love dogs. I think they make great pets. They are affectionate, responsive and great company. They are also fun to name and they come when you call them.
So do I have a dog? No I do not.
For some reason my household of one wife and two daughters has steadfastly resisted my importing a gregarious, interactive canine while embracing a variety of animals whose common trait has been that names are useless affectations since they don't respond to their use. We've had two cats, a hamster, a guinea pig and, for a brief time, a rabbit. The latest addition is a parakeet, which I've learned is more accurately called a budgie. Each has come to us after being abandoned or as a product of a broken home, yet none have shown any appreciation for being delivered from a roadkill fate or a career in cosmetic testing. In fact, on more than one occasion, the remaining cat has even tried to kill me by running between my legs while I'm carrying 40-pound bags of water softener salt down the stairs.
(Full disclosure: some of these pets are no longer with us. One cat, the hamster and the rabbit have passed on to what Raymond Chandler would call - especially in the case of the cat - "The Big Sleep.")
There once was a time where whenever I'd get home I'd be greeted by the squawks and squeals of my little girls honoring my return. Now I get squawks from the budgie who seems perpetually offended by my presence and squeals from the guinea pig who has associated the sound of the door opening from the garage with delivery of another load of dandelion greens and stems for his buffet. (For a funny flash file on the eating and dancing habits of guinea pigs, go here.)
I don't understand what is up with the budgie; I thought we were going to be pals. My sister-in-law found him outside her shop following the big wind storm a couple of weeks ago and brought him home. My youngest then adopted him and we found a large, lovely cage at a garage sale for just $5. My daughter filled the cage with bird toys and feed. While he was on 24-hour probation his first day with us he was friendly as all get-out and liked having his head and neck scratched. Now the mere appearance of a finger near his cage drives him around the bend. He can also be sitting on his perch singing away as happy as a clam (if a clam could sing, that is) and in mid-note suddenly launch into a sputtering, head-bobbing Donald Duck-type diatribe that I assume represents budgie cursing. (A budgie with Tourette's Syndrome?)
I did some on-line studying about budgies and discovered that they can be excellent mimics. I thought the budgie might find it appropriate to repeat one of my favorite Monty Python lines, so I parked myself beside his cage and started repeating - in my best, feminine, John Cleese voice - "I just spent four hours burying the cat."
No reaction. I thought perhaps he needed more context, so I recited the opening lines from that Python sketch:
"Oh-ho!" I said. "Well let me just tell you something else I've learned. It says here that budgie is the short name for budgerigar and budgerigar is a word used by the Australian Aborigines. Do you want to know what it means? Huh, do you? It means 'good to eat.'"
Come to think of it, right about then is when the whole Donald Duck business with him began.
So do I have a dog? No I do not.
For some reason my household of one wife and two daughters has steadfastly resisted my importing a gregarious, interactive canine while embracing a variety of animals whose common trait has been that names are useless affectations since they don't respond to their use. We've had two cats, a hamster, a guinea pig and, for a brief time, a rabbit. The latest addition is a parakeet, which I've learned is more accurately called a budgie. Each has come to us after being abandoned or as a product of a broken home, yet none have shown any appreciation for being delivered from a roadkill fate or a career in cosmetic testing. In fact, on more than one occasion, the remaining cat has even tried to kill me by running between my legs while I'm carrying 40-pound bags of water softener salt down the stairs.
(Full disclosure: some of these pets are no longer with us. One cat, the hamster and the rabbit have passed on to what Raymond Chandler would call - especially in the case of the cat - "The Big Sleep.")
There once was a time where whenever I'd get home I'd be greeted by the squawks and squeals of my little girls honoring my return. Now I get squawks from the budgie who seems perpetually offended by my presence and squeals from the guinea pig who has associated the sound of the door opening from the garage with delivery of another load of dandelion greens and stems for his buffet. (For a funny flash file on the eating and dancing habits of guinea pigs, go here.)
I don't understand what is up with the budgie; I thought we were going to be pals. My sister-in-law found him outside her shop following the big wind storm a couple of weeks ago and brought him home. My youngest then adopted him and we found a large, lovely cage at a garage sale for just $5. My daughter filled the cage with bird toys and feed. While he was on 24-hour probation his first day with us he was friendly as all get-out and liked having his head and neck scratched. Now the mere appearance of a finger near his cage drives him around the bend. He can also be sitting on his perch singing away as happy as a clam (if a clam could sing, that is) and in mid-note suddenly launch into a sputtering, head-bobbing Donald Duck-type diatribe that I assume represents budgie cursing. (A budgie with Tourette's Syndrome?)
I did some on-line studying about budgies and discovered that they can be excellent mimics. I thought the budgie might find it appropriate to repeat one of my favorite Monty Python lines, so I parked myself beside his cage and started repeating - in my best, feminine, John Cleese voice - "I just spent four hours burying the cat."
No reaction. I thought perhaps he needed more context, so I recited the opening lines from that Python sketch:
Mrs. Conclusion: Hello, Mrs. Premise.I didn't even get so much as a, "You're a loony" in response. Looking back, even though I was frustrated, it probably wasn't a good idea to continue with the rest of the sketch:
Mrs. Premise: Hello, Mrs. Conclusion.
Mrs. Conclusion: Busy Day?
Mrs. Premise: Busy? I just spent four hours burying the cat.
Mrs. Conclusion: Four hours to bury a cat?
Mrs. Premise: Yes - it wouldn't keep still.
Mrs. Conclusion: Oh - it wasn't dead, then?
Mrs. Premise: No, no - but it's not at all well, so as we were going away for a fortnight we wanted to be on the safe side.
Mrs. Conclusion: Quite right - you don't want to come back from Sorrento to a dead cat. It'd be so anticlimactic. Yes, kill it now, that's what I say.
Mrs. Conclusion: We're going to have to have our budgie put down.(Note to self: no flushing Supreme Court justices down the loo.) The bird squinted at me, then sidled to the other side of his perch, turned his head away, stretched out one leg and squirted out some processed bird kibble.
Mrs. Premise: Really? Is it very old?
Mrs. Conclusion: No. We just don't like it. We're going to take it to the vet tomorrow.
Mrs. Premise: Tell me, how do they put budgies down then?
Mrs. Conclusion: Well it's funny you should ask that, but I've just been reading a great big book about how to put your budgie down, and apparently you can either hit it with the book, or, you can shoot them just there above the beak.
Mrs. Premise: Just there!
Mrs. Conclusion: Yes.
Mrs. Premise: Well well well. 'Course, Mrs. Essence flushed hers down the loo.
Mrs. Conclusion: Ohh! No! You shouldn't do that — no that's dangerous. Yes, they breed in the sewers, and eventually you get evil-smelling flocks of huge soiled budgies flying out of people's lavatories infringing on their personal freedom."
"Oh-ho!" I said. "Well let me just tell you something else I've learned. It says here that budgie is the short name for budgerigar and budgerigar is a word used by the Australian Aborigines. Do you want to know what it means? Huh, do you? It means 'good to eat.'"
Come to think of it, right about then is when the whole Donald Duck business with him began.
Monday, July 4, 2005
Of hidden standards and agendas
Two of the most recent Supreme Court decisions appear to be on unrelated subjects but I think there is a common theme. In going halfsies on the two Ten Commandment cases before them the court essentially said that displaying the Ten Commandments in or around government buildings was okay as long as they could be considered as historical artifacts and not as something the government says you should live by.
And in their emminent domain-related Kelo decision the court said the same thing about the U.S. Constitution.
There has been a lot of great writing on other blogs about these decisions already, especially on Kelo, and I don't have much to add in terms of ramifications and analyses. I do have a couple of observations on what I see as the underlying issue before us, however. (If you want ramifications and analyses, I especially liked these postings from Sprucegoose and from Craig Westover.)
Both the Constitution and the Ten Commandments have similar objectives: both set out how we should relate to one another, while the Commandments described how we should relate to God and the Constitution laid out how our government should relate to us. Part of the idea was that following the principles in each would result in a happier, more peaceful and more prosperous life, and that by putting these principles in writing we could hope to avoid large scale abuses of individuals tring to shade these for their own advantage.
Aside from prohibitions on killing, stealing, perjury and the occasional Sunday blue law that may be in effect in some areas, there aren't a lot of laws on the books enforcing the Commandments. That's not to say that putting some teeth into the "honoring your father and mother" line wouldn't be generally beneficial to society. Enforcing that part about "not coveting" however would probably cripple the economy. Still, their presence in the public square and in our awareness established that - however unattainable - there is a standard of right and wrong to aspire that goes beyone legal and illegal. In my opinion, those who find the Commandments offensive are offended more by the suggestion that there should be such a standard of behavior (other than their own) than by the mention of God.
The Constitution, on the other hand, has given birth to thousands of laws, each supposedly adhering to its standard to provide fair play in a world that becomes increasingly ingenious about playing unfairly.
Both the Commandments and the Constitution ultimately depend on an understanding that justice is available, consistent and to be expected. In their recent decisions the Supreme Court has chosen to hide one standard from sight while ignoring the other.
And in their emminent domain-related Kelo decision the court said the same thing about the U.S. Constitution.
There has been a lot of great writing on other blogs about these decisions already, especially on Kelo, and I don't have much to add in terms of ramifications and analyses. I do have a couple of observations on what I see as the underlying issue before us, however. (If you want ramifications and analyses, I especially liked these postings from Sprucegoose and from Craig Westover.)
Both the Constitution and the Ten Commandments have similar objectives: both set out how we should relate to one another, while the Commandments described how we should relate to God and the Constitution laid out how our government should relate to us. Part of the idea was that following the principles in each would result in a happier, more peaceful and more prosperous life, and that by putting these principles in writing we could hope to avoid large scale abuses of individuals tring to shade these for their own advantage.
Aside from prohibitions on killing, stealing, perjury and the occasional Sunday blue law that may be in effect in some areas, there aren't a lot of laws on the books enforcing the Commandments. That's not to say that putting some teeth into the "honoring your father and mother" line wouldn't be generally beneficial to society. Enforcing that part about "not coveting" however would probably cripple the economy. Still, their presence in the public square and in our awareness established that - however unattainable - there is a standard of right and wrong to aspire that goes beyone legal and illegal. In my opinion, those who find the Commandments offensive are offended more by the suggestion that there should be such a standard of behavior (other than their own) than by the mention of God.
The Constitution, on the other hand, has given birth to thousands of laws, each supposedly adhering to its standard to provide fair play in a world that becomes increasingly ingenious about playing unfairly.
Both the Commandments and the Constitution ultimately depend on an understanding that justice is available, consistent and to be expected. In their recent decisions the Supreme Court has chosen to hide one standard from sight while ignoring the other.