Update At 1030 When it comes to single issues, I guess I probably belong in a particular herd or another. Like everyone else. Most of the time, I don't get bothered by this. It's not a particularly bad spot to be in - after all, if you have plenty of people who hold the same opinion, there is some comfort in believing that you are at least surrounded by others who believe as you do. Sometimes, however, I find myself wondering just what in the hell is wrong with some people who are so insistent that their opinion be the only correct opinion that I wonder if they are in fact stable individuals. Take, for example, a favorite schism between science and faith. I do not say "religion" nor do I say "faithful" - I care not one whit for your flavor of faith, or lack thereof, if you so choose. It is your life, and you are, personally, responsible for you and you yourself alone - what happens to you and to your soul (should you have one) is something which I cannot influence - it is your own choice, one way or the other. But I note with some amusement (And frustration - I'll be honest) that there are more than a few people who seem to take great joy in pummelling the "faith-full" with every opportunity. I don't know if it's because they see all these people having "fun" in churches and whatnot, and it irritates them, or if it's because the people who they think should believe one way believe another, or if it's because there's no scientific proof of the vessel in which that faith is placed. I don't know, and I'm guessing they do not, either. I do wonder, though, about people who take such joy in promoting their view that various forms of religion are balderdash. Please, understand this point if you understand no other - "faith" is the acceptance of something without physical proof. I have faith in many things - that my watch is telling me the correct time, that the earth does in fact revolve around the sun, that there are other planets in the solar system, and that there is a God. I have, with my own eyes, beheld though a telescope a thing that looks like it might be Saturn. Could I verify it for certain? No. I don't know that the fellow allowing me to look through the telescope didn't put a picture in the bottom of the scope and display it for me - I didn't see what he did before and after the whole thing. Faith is something that everyone has to some extent. Everyone - some have more faith than others. I'm not saying those people are better than others - nor are they worse. I am saying that if I am confronted with a fellow who is quietly sitting on a bench, and another fellow who is hopping up and down and screaming that Jesus loves me and that I should repent my sins, I will, 100% of the time, side with the quiet fellow on the bench. Why? Because I figure anyone who is working that hard to sell me something is probably someone who has an angle. Whether the angle is something they can profit from now or in the future matters little to me. I much prefer the quiet sort of person who will mind his or her own business to the noisy busybodies that insist that I accept Jaysus as my per-sun-al sav-yer. As a friend of my wife's once stated, "I gave myself to Jesus once - now He never calls." It helps that she's an attractive blonde, but that's beside the point. The reason for my ruminations today is word that James Cameron, of Titanic fame, is going to announce that he's found a 2000-year-old tomb which held coffins labeled Jesus, Mary, Mary, Matthew, Jofa, and Judah. Of course, we all must immediately cease our belief in a Divine Jesus, because someone took twenty years to decipher these names. Granted, the names could just as well have been Gilligan, Ginger, Ginger, Skipper, Professor, and Thurston, but let's not leave Mary Ann out of the fun. Of course, I'm certain that these discoverors have verified, through census records, of course, the fact that there was only one family where Jesus was the offspring of a "Mary" and a "Joseph". I guess what irritates me most is people who take such glee in bringing this information up, like "nyah nyah, lookie lookie, we just blew your religion up." News flash for the morons who do this out there - faith isn't destroyed by "alleged proof". Even a scientist - Sir Arthur Eddington, a British Astronomer, said "Not only is the universe stranger than we imagine, it is stranger than we can imagine." (emphasis mine - ed). Strange is another way of saying "well, if it doesn't comply with the current understanding of the laws of physics, there you will find God." I, personally, used to subscribe to the theory (no longer - I figure it's a faulty understanding of the laws of physics). But either way, trumpeting "proof it didn't happen" where there is none, or the "proof" is suspect (as in this case), ends up being a waste of time. Or a ploy for TV ratings. But we already knew that.
[Link] So many phrases entered my vocabulary. <CLAP> <CLAP> Fun-knee! (said in a slavic accent) was one. "You must use - wait for it..." was another. There were many, many others. By far the most popular, however, was an interjection he used early on the second side, as he was getting people to suggest topics for an improvisational Shakespearan play he would create right there. So many people yelling so many topics, he finally screamed and cried "Assholes do vex me!" From that day to this, that phrase, whether uttered under my breath as I left another interminable, useless staff meeting or screamed at the top of my lungs inside my car as I narrowly avoided some ... well, asshole intent on dying on the roads and trying to make me the instrument of their destruction, the line has served me well. And again, today, I found myself using it whilst muttering about my children - and my pets.
There are other things today (like the things I won't talk about), but let's just say that I'm quite frustrated this afternoon. However, those who frustrate me should be wary...
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Update At One correspondent (I shall not name them - not by their request - I just figure it's the polite thing to do in this case) insists that the discovery of the tomb is the death knell for the Christian Faith. Er, yeah, that's the ticket - a half-dozen or so old boxes found underground will completely and utterly invalidate a belief system that has lasted two thousand years - you betcha. Another claimed that it's pretty damning evidence. You bet. I'm sure it is. And when I stumble across the tomb of Gilligan, Ginger, Mary Ann, Professor, Skipper, and Mr. & Mrs. Howell, I'll be pretty sure that Gilligan's Island was a documentary. Lord knows that only in the last twenty years or so have we had pranksters charlatans and jerkwads who try to fool people. Over the last 2000 years, every single individual has always been 100% perfectly honest. Another points out that it's the first piece of historical evidence of Jesus. Given the commonality of the name (I think it's something like the 5th or 6th most popular at that time), I guess I would have to say "yes, it certainly is - and which Jesus?" The same correspondent says "well, he's buried here, now". You bet. Show me the DNA that proves Jesus is indeed only human and that the remains were, in fact, the remains of Jesus and his family, and I'll certainly hang up my cross for a slide rule. It's funny. The people who choose not to believe are well within their rights to do so. The people who choose to believe are also within their rights. The only person I won't take issue with is the fellow (a good, long-time friend) who pointed out that "live and let live" is the only viable option. There are many people out there who are "pimping for God" - Those who do not believe are certainly allowed equal time. Doesn't mean I'm gonna believe 'em. If this had been found and/or promoted by anyone other than James Cameron (who just so incidentally happens to have in the can a documentary about the whole thing), I'm sure the credibility would have zoomed up from 4% to 4.2% in my book. Let's face it - we just need to agree to disagree. I cast no aspersions upon people who choose not to believe. I do not look down upon them - they have made a choice, which is, or so I believe, one of the many things I have been given to do with my life. I have free will, and I have executed it, and continue to do so, in believing in what others might consider foolish. So be it. I do not mock those who choose not to believe, but I suppose it's OK for those who don't to mock me. After all, my religion told me to simply "turn the other cheek" a couple weeks back - so I shall. Mock away - I don't guarantee that I'll pay attention, but you do have your rights - and I, for one, will not take them from you - unlike some who believe that a militant eradication of all "Belief systems" are removed from the planet. I don't deny that there's been a whole hell of a lot of blood shed over "God" and "the nature of God". There's also been a whole lot of blood shed over "mine's better" and "I got, you don't" and "not to me, you won't". It matters little what the reason is. Dead is dead. And that's sad, no matter how you look at it.
[Link] It was filled with random sentences - not a single one followed one from the other (yes, I know, it's a spammer technique used to sneak past content filters - I just use my own to consign most e-mails with HTML in them to a special bin - which I filter at my leisure, which is damned rare these days). And then the fellow includes a link to an image which is just text, purporting to be a hot stock tip. Like that would have worked today.
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Update At I was later laid off by said employer. This year, as part of a new marketing push by the new marketing manager, the new person responsible for this area is sending me letters. And, given the fact that the "new" includes a contracted (read "outsourced") IT person, no one is taking personal responsibility for reviewing the data. They are just regurgitating it - at roughly $2.50 per letter (our cost based on paper, postage, time to review the records and generate new records), and so I've received three, so far, and expect another nine to follow. They were a good company, and good employer to me. However, the range of services they are proposing is so far out of line with what I had done in the past that I feel fairly confident in saying "good luck with that!" And ignoring the letters.
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Update At Silly, silly man. March has it's moods, and one is coming in like a lion - and going out like a motherfucking bastard, most often. Schools in our area dismissed an hour early this afternoon. Shrug, I thought - I'm chugging away on a database, so it didn't much bother me. The kids came home, and we had about nine inches of snow on the sidewalk. The sidewalk I'd cleared this morning. Hmmm. I cleared it, cleared a path to the van, and cleared a path to the driver's side door. Important Note: For those of you who live in snow-type climes, a small piece of advice - never, ever, ever leave the wipers going when you shut off a vehicle. Yes, I know, I know. Read on. I unlocked the van, leaned in (after the ridge of snow stopped falling off the roof of the van), and started the van with the spare key. A little stage-setting would probably be in order, here. Jack, on the far side of the van, is shoveling off the windows. I, on the other hand, am wearing my parka, hood down, my rabbit-furred hat, flaps down, and a hooded sweatshirt - hood down. Nine inches of snow on your average mini-van windshield is not at all pleasant when it falls down the back of your neck. Not at all. </End Public Service Message> So I finished shoveling (this time the ridge at the end of the driveway was about three feet from the end of the driveway), went to get Ann (I saw seven accidents, three cars in the ditch, and one heading that way on the way there. On the way back, I was fortunate and saw only two accidents and one car facing the wrong way - on the freeway, mind you). And the weather geeks just announced that we have another 6-9 inches of the four letter word yet to come. This last Saturday, I was able to walk about my bare front yard and think about landscaping. Now, I am damned lucky if I can lift the snow over the banks on the sides of the sidewalk. No, we're not talking New York State levels of snow, yet, but plenty for our average winter...
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On the left there, you'll see the front. Those piles at the end of the driveway are as tall as I am - so figure five feet and some eight inches there. The southern one (which you don't see well) is at least three inches taller than the northern one. Out back, you see a table and chair (amongst other things) that were totally cleared off last week. No snow, no nothing. And lastly, (or ghastly), you see my son's attempts at humor - a squirt gun hung from the flag mount on the tower. Many's the time, this week, where I contemplated a super-soaker filled with flammable liquids (alcohol or gasoline), and a lighter in front of it, and using THAT to get rid of my snow woes. Haven't - yet.
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Update At I used to think that the woman was someone worthy of attention - or at least refutation. Then I realized she has an illness. I don't recall what the exact syndrome is, but there's something where people can't help but call attention to themselves. It's a variation, I would think, on Munchhausen By Proxy, which is (or so I understand it in a layman, over-simplified way) where a parent causes, or encourages a child to exhibit signs of, some rare disease or illness, all so that the parent can gather the attention from learned professionals, sympathy from the non-involved, and the like. Ann Coulter certainly seems to have the celebrity version of the disease (one suspects that she is somewhat unfamiliar with the male sex organ, given that she cuts rather the intimidating figure amongst the conservative intelligentsia, and in being unfamiliar with said organ, I am reasonably sure that no child has passed through or spent time in her womb). That is, she cannot stand to be out of the limelight, and if she is not pimping her latest candidate, cause, or bashing someone who opposes her, she finds a way. I used to think she was incredibly adept at inserting a foot in her mouth, or her head into her own backside, until I realized that it is all an incredibly calculated act designed to gather publicity to her. And then I truly felt sorry for her - someone who cannot live outside the attentions of the media and her cadre of admirers is someone who should truly be pitied. I cannot imagine the kind of life she would lead, jetting from here to there, followed by sycophantic yes-men and women who hang on her every word - and no one can penetrate her psychotic bubble of unreality, because she is, after all, "The Ann Coulter". I tell you what, though - after looking at the woman's picture, I have the creepy feeling that she used to be a man. Cut her hair short, give her a beard, and ... well, I'm not saying "Crying Game" but I certainly wouldn't want to see the woman nekkid. And that, my fine (male) friends, is truly saying something.
[Link] Idea the first came upon me about two weeks ago - I was thinking about it for a few months, but in the last two weeks the pieces really fell together. I have an upcoming April camping trip with my Cub Scouts, and I was thinking of a way to make it fun and give them a souvineer at the same time. Our budget did not extend to tee shirts, so I started thinking of the amount of time we spend camping, and the amount of time we spend wishing we were just a little warmer than we presently were. And the idea for the "Campfire Poncho" came up. I'm having the boys who are attending this campout come to a pre-campout meeting with a length of fleece twice as long as they are tall. So a 4' tall boy would come to the meeting with an 8' length of fleece (about 60" wide, give or take). The fleece will be laid down in a single layer on the floor, then the boy will lay down on it, with his head pointing down the longer side of the fleece, and the edge of the fleece at the back of his knees. We (the adults) will then place a straightedge (probably a board) at the boy's head, and fold the fleece over the boy (covering his face, yes, I know). We will then take another straightedge and lay it across his knees at the same level as the other edge. We will then cut off the portion that extends below his knees (on top) and place a mark where his head is at the other end. Then we'll let him up. The larger piece will have a slit cut in it that is more than wide enough for the boy to get his head through. This will then be set aside. The cut off piece will be folded in thirds. One third will be cut off. The other two-thirds will have one edge sewn shut, so two adjacent sides will be closed off. This will be used as a hood, and sewn into the slit for the head to form the hood of the poncho. Then the cut-off third will be sewn onto the front of the poncho as a pocket for flashlights and the like. Yes, I know, it means the kids will have to stay back from the fire a little further. And it won't let them screw around by the campfire. But then again, isn't that the point? Idea the second struck yesterday as I was trying to figure out how to finish up the Readyman (First Aid) award for my Webelos. Much of the job had been done for my guys at our fall camporee last year. We neeeded to discuss a few fundamentals. Last year, a week after the October Webelos camporee, I attended our local "University of Scouting" - it's a kind of a Scout-o-Rama for adults - training classes, certifications, and an idea exchange for leaders. While there, I made a neckerchief slide out of cardboard, and it looked like a Webelos book. I thought it was pretty cool. I asked the boys a few months back to make a list of their favorite books. I was going to go onto Amazon and find the covers, so they could make their own neckerchief book slides. No one did. Then, as I was driving to St. Cloud to see my folks and friends yesterday, the idea hit me. Why not take some basic first aid tips and put them into these little neckerchief slides, so the boys have them handy? Sure, they won't have them all the time, but between reading them over and having them nearby, maybe one might help. And if not, they might just remember something from them when the "chips are down". So I have those kits ready to go for Tuesday night's den meeting.
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