“Peace, prosperity, liberty and morals
have an intimate connection.”

- Thomas Jefferson

I received an email this evening from someone who said, "Did you know that your Comments are turned off on your last post?" Uh, no, I didn't. I went into my site administration and, sure enough, Comments were inexplicably turned off for "The Greatest 'Degeneration'?" post.

Lately I'll admit to feeling a bit disappointed after posting some edgier content, expecting to see comments or brickbats, only to get...zilch. I was left to assume that my argument had been so sound and complete that no one could refute it...or so boring that no one had been able to get through it. Checking the admin page and, sure enough, Comments were off on these posts! Meanwhile, Comments were on for all the other recent posts...only "A Way of a Gun" and "A Poem for Choice" were turned off. Believe me, I'm not ducking argument. Most of the posts here have a 30-day sunset, but I've only deliberately shut down comments on posts that have attracted spam.

Maybe my blog-host is trying to protect me from myself, or merely sending me a message that it's time to move on.

Today The Writer's Almanac has an interesting snippet from history on the power of outrage and the written word in the face of injustice:

On this day in 1898 the French novelist Émile Zola was found guilty of libel for writing "J'accuse," in an open letter to the French government. It accused the government and the military court of deliberately mishandling the case of Alfred Dreyfus, a Jewish officer who was wrongly accused of giving intelligence information to Germany. People were eager to convict a Jewish man, and Dreyfus was given a life sentence and sent into solitary confinement on Devil's Island. Soon after, the government found conclusive evidence that another man, Ferdinand Esterhazy, was actually guilty of the crime. But to save face, the military and the government produced false evidence to acquit Esterhazy and confirm Dreyfus' guilt.

Émile Zola was a prolific novelist and a well-respected public intellectual. Two days after Esterhazy was acquitted, his 4,000-word letter took up the entire front page of the French newspaper L'Aurore, with its one-word title, "J'accuse!" ("I accuse!"). Zola took apart the case, proved Dreyfus' innocence and Esterhazy's guilt, exposed the government cover-up, and directly accused government and military figures of anti-Semitism and abusing the justice system.

Zola was well-known outside of France, and "J'accuse" brought the Dreyfus case to the attention of the international community. After reading it, most believed that Dreyfus was innocent. Zola was arrested for libel, and his trial got a lot of media coverage. In the courtroom, people screamed and got in brawls, and mobs tried to attack Zola as he left each day. He was convicted on this day in 1898 and ordered to spend a year in jail. He escaped to England, where he lived in exile. But in less than two years, a new court reversed Dreyfus' sentence and dropped the libel charge against Zola. Both men returned to France, and in 1906, Dreyfus was reinstated in the army.

Today is (or was, since it's almost over) the fourth anniversary of this blog. According to my web-host's stats there have been 1,333 posts over the past 1,456 days, and according to Site Meter, some 166,000 visitors. That's pretty amazing to me. While I'm no Dread Pirate Roberts ("Good night, Wesley, I'll probably kill you in the morning") when it comes to keeping this going, I set out with nothing more than a commitment to myself to try this for six months and with even fewer specifics as to what I was going to write or hoped to accomplish. Yet here we are.

I have to thank and give credit to the readers who have come by here. While there's really no reason to maintain a blog of this sort except for one's own amusement, your patronage has been both amusing and encouraging to me. I know I would not have posted as often — or for this long — if my own amusement were the only factor. In turn, I hope I have made you laugh and sometimes — oh joy — made you think. Judging by the comments that have been posted here and by the emails I've received, I've been occasionally successful at those two things. What has really blown me away, however, are the messages I've received that in one way or another say, "You've helped me." That wasn't really in the original charter, but now that may very well be the biggest incentive to keep on with this.

Yesterday I re-upped the domain registration and paid the annual fee in advance. In addition, plans are under way to move this blog to a new location and a slightly different (and simpler) URL, probably within a few weeks. My wife is at work on an awesome new header and I've begun playing around with some ways to make this look cleaner and make searching and archiving more efficient and complete. The appropriate details and directions to the new home will be posted when the time comes.

In the meantime and on behalf of myself, Reverend Mother, Mall Diva and Tiger Lilly, thank you for being there. I can imagine, but I can't stand to think of, what my life would be like now if it wasn't for the new people and relationships that have come as a result of this little experiment. Some of you I've never actually "met" and others — like Ben — the Mall Diva and I will probably never be able to get rid of now. I honestly don't know how much longer I'll be doing this but I truly appreciate that you're willing to do it with me.

Be sure to cut yourself a piece of cake!

A few years ago I stopped at a local gas station and convenience store to tank up. It was a Saturday and back in the day when you had to go into the store to pay, and it so happened that I was in a hurry. I stood in line while the sole cashier seemed to take his sweet, ever-lovin' time in handling the transactions of those in front of me. When it was my turn I felt a strong urge to make some cutting comment, or call the guy "Lightning" or something similar. Just as I was about to do that, however, I had an even stronger thought: "What if I say that and this same guy shows up at church tomorrow as a visitor while I'm ushering?"

My fiery-hot comment turned to ashes in my mouth. I swallowed hard, signed my receipt and beat it out of there. I may have lost a few minutes but I probably gained something more.

I still think of this little episode from time to time as I surf my favorite blogs and drop in on their Comment sections. Many of these have their "regulars" who engage in spirited debate, and typically the more spirited it gets the less respectful the tone of the commenters back and forth. There are times, I must confess, when funny, inventive and highly personal and derogatory ripostes have wanted to leap through my flying fingers onto the comment page to symbolically gut not only another person's argument but his very being. Such is the anonymity and immunity of the internet. I have bitten my tongue, or perhaps my fingernails, however to keep from doing so.

When I write for this blog I often have a picture of a composite reader in my head. Not necessarily anyone in particular but someone who is obviously intelligent and who has good taste or otherwise he or she wouldn't have stopped by. Having this sense moderates, or modulates, some of what I might type — along with the thought that stuff tends to live forever on the web like so much space junk orbiting the earth. Meanwhile some cosmic gravity will see to it that my least generous, most base and unedifying words will turn up in someone's Google-search. Therefore my fingernails grow ragged.

Likewise in the various comment sections I always try to remember that there are real people on the other side of those electrons, no matter how cartoon-like their on-screen personas might appear. Therefore, while I may use a clever turn of phrase or pointed observation in responding to their argument, I don't go personal or suggest that they molest collies. Sometimes I'll type something inflammatory, take satisfaction from that sparkling eviseration, and then delete it. Whether the person I'm responding to is 5'2" or 6'5", if I wouldn't say it to his/her face, I shouldn't post it either. Someday I might actually meet that person and if he's 5'2" I'll feel like a heel and if he's 6'5" I might get ground under his heel.

And, someday, I just might meet them at church.

... are in order for the Carlson family.

Peace, friend.

I have to confess I'm living a double-life. I've been doing this blogging thing for a while now but a couple of weeks ago I finally got into the Facebook thing; mainly just so I could read what my daughters were putting on there. Of course, once the Facebook organism recognizes you it runs all of its tendrils out through your past and present in its proprietary way and starts re-connecting you with people. Which is fun, but leads to more time on-line writing notes and on walls, poking and tagging people and so on.

It's kind of like getting a new pet. The thing about a new pet, however, is that no matter how cute it is, it's still got to be fed. And if you've got other pets — like a blog, for instance — these want to be fed, too, and it can get kind of hairy trying to run back and forth between them. Then those long-lost friends want to get all caught up on your life, and get you all caught up on theirs, so they tag you with the "25 Things" Meme.

Well, my short answer to that is "Read My Blog!" because basically everything that's gone on, or is going on, in my life shows up there in one way or another. But doing it that way is the War and Peace version (on DVD, with Director's commentary). So I decided to do the Reader's Digest version (albeit annotated), while simultaneously "feeding" both my Facebook page and my blog. Here then, is my "25 Things" thing, many with links to past blog-posts that provide the back-story to that "thing".

1. I know a lot of words, but I can use just a few of them at a time if necessary.

2. I can't access Facebook during the day because it's blocked on my company computers.

3. Sometimes I can be a real smart-ass.

4. And sometimes I can be a fair (or, perhaps, unfair) poet.

5. A movie that I always have to stop and watch if I come across it while channel-surfing: Zulu.

6. I teach a monthly "Fundamentals in Film" class to a group of teenage boys, using popular films to illustrate timeless truths of character and honorable behavior (as opposed to the images of Homer Simpson and professional wrestlers they're most often exposed to).

7. Sometimes, the movies and lessons come alive.

8. I'm in love with my wife!

9. I'm also Dad to the Bone.

10. My wife and I home-educate our children at the Stewart Academy for Girls.

11. And sometimes we get unexpected help and lessons ourselves.

12. And I'm still learning stuff:

13. I've been to England twice. Once as an exchange student in college and 28 years later with my family,

14. I've also been to Italy,

15. And to Scotland,

16. And to Ireland,

17. And to the Emergency Room!

18. I know the difference between men and women.

19. And I'm not afraid to stick my neck (and head) out when it comes to my kids.

20. But a lot of people think I have some funny ideas about how to go about getting married:

21. I worked for a while part-time as a scoreboard operator at the Metrodome for Twins, Vikings and Minnesota Gophers games, and the odd rock concert, Wrestlemania and tractor pull - some odder than others:

22. My life frequently resembles something out of Monty Python:

23. My 14-year-old daughter and co-blogger is already a prize-winning author!

24. My wife and daughters go out for coffee together every Friday morning and often "live-blog" the experience. I sometimes wonder just what has been poured into their stream of consciousness.

25. I'm tired.