Opaque Lucidity

Fight or Flight

We are animals. In us all, deep down, is that response which all animals possess: fight or flight. It surfaces when you are startled by a loud noise; it may just seem like a twitch now, but eons ago you would've been running for the cave.

I think that fight or flight remains with many of us as we tackle problems that early man never imagined. I see it in myself a lot, especially when it comes to interpersonal relationships. When I was young, I always chose to fight; not just physically, but emotionally as well. Now that I am a little older, I find myself shying away from encounters a little more. This is never out of fear, but out of a feeling that the confrontation may not be satisfying, so why bother. I am beginning to believe that life is too short to volunteer for discomfort.

But, when I stew over something long enough, I find that I still want the fight. I was thinking about something tonight, a confrontation with someone that may or may not occur. I can easily avoid it; but why should I? The right thing to do is stand up, take the chance, make my case in the best way possible and let the chips fall where they may. It is these times I remember that I can, and have been, a fearsome opponent.

Now, if I could only work the phrase, "Ah, screw it!" out of my mental vocabulary.

Hangover

Yes. And my head hurts. Don't talk so loud.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. Part of this has to do with my on-going love affair with turkey, stuffing and all the trimmings, things that I do not eat the rest of the year. But mostly, I love Thanksgiving because our family comes together without the stress of buying and opening presents (I find these things stressful; they may be a joy to you). It is a happy time.

If you're making a list about what to be thankful for, please be thankful that there are hundreds of thousands of men and women willing to put their lives on the line in places you will never visit in the name of your freedom and safety. They are all volunteers, which should make you even more thankful. I know you didn't asked to be defended; if you think you don't need to be defended from so much in this world, then you're a fool.

There is a quote attributed to George Orwell that goes something like this: "People sleep peacably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf." He also said (and this is an exact quote): " Enlightened people seldom or never possess a sense of responsibility", which could pretty much sum up every liberal I have ever known. But that's for another day. Happy Thanksgiving!

The Real Friend

I'm a little upset tonight, and it's the worst kind of upset----it's about something over which I have no control. It all has to do with friendship, or what passes for friendship to many people. This may take a while to explain, so I hope you will give me a moment to lay out my thoughts.

My 8th grade teacher, Sister Claretta Hefner, said to us once that we would be best served in our lives by remembering that friends should be measured by quality, not in quantity. Of all the wise things she said, that one phrase has had the most impact on me. As I look at the people who I consider friends, I feel pretty good: although I have lost touch with some of them over the years, I have never had a real "falling out" with anyone whom I consider a real friend. Some would say I am blessed; I would like to think that I have made good choices.

But what is a friend? This is a tricky question, and one for which you could say there is no one correct answer. Each of us views the world differently, and the definition of what a friend is is unique to all of us. But I want to explore my definition of friendship in the hope that it will make my current dilemma easier to understand.

My friends fall into two groups: childhood friends (friends from my childhood or school) and adult friends (friends from the Navy until now). Their only difference is the time in which I met them. Put together, I can easily count them on two hands and a few toes (I'm not including spouses in this; if you are my friend and you are married, your spouse is in the club or you wouldn't be my friend). There is no one "surface" characteristic that they hold in common; in other words, they don't all have the same career, or income, or hobby, or drinking habits, or hometown. What they do have in common are things that are, to me, more important: loyalty, honor and, for lack of a better term, "code".

"Code" is a little hard to describe. I can only talk about it in terms of male friends, because women's relationships are very different and not something I understand very well. Code is when you take a friend's call in the middle of the night and go to his house without knowing what the problem is other than that he needs you. Code is standing with a friend in a fight, even though you don't know how it started or whether or not he's in the wrong. Code is always presenting a unified front to the world, even if you're throwing punches at each other behind the scenes. Code is knowing when to grab him by the collar and tell him that he's screwing up royally, even at the risk of pissing him off or even losing him as a friend. Code is knowing to listen when he grabs YOU by the collar and tells you how you are screwing up royally, and realizing that he's doing it because he loves you so much even though it's pissing you off.

With all this in mind, maybe you can imagine how disappointing it is to me when I see people who I love and care about accepting less than this from their friends. To some of them, friends are just people who they socialize with, which, in a way, makes them interchangeable. Change jobs, get new friends; move into a new neighborhood, get new friends; take up golf, get new friends. In my world, these people are called aquaintances. They may make it to friendville, but they certainly don't start out there.

The only way I can make this behavior make any sense is to think that it must be a defense mechanism. In other words, if I have a lot of "friends", then I must be OK. And, subconsciously, these "friends" don't expect as much from me as, say, my family might. None of these "friends" is going to call me down for something privately at the risk of pissing me off; they don't care what I do as long as they don't have to pay the bill.

I know that, in the end, it's none of my business. But it hurts when these people's "friends" are held in a higher place than the people who should matter the most. In my particular case, I know that it's a matter of acceptance and being around people who don't give the people in question a hard time. But what kind of life is it when you are surrounded by people who you don't trust, who aren't loyal, and whose only common ground are hobbies, jobs and alcohol consumption?

Maybe I was born too late.

Book (or Lack Thereof)

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In a word (or a paragraph), the work I have done on the book thus far is crap. I'm not saying this as some sort of suffering artist, but as a realist. I have come to the conclusion that I can not write a story in any sort of sequential order and make it interesting. When I wrote my first book, I had a sequential first and last chapter; everything else was written in the style of Do Black Patent Leather Shoes Really Reflect Up?; in other words, it was anecdotal.

So I talked to Kelli Saturday night about this and, as always, she had some pretty good insites into my soul. I have always had a great love of history, and that was where she thought I should go with my writing. Of course, writing non-fiction takes a great deal of research. This isn't something that I am oppossed to, but my life right now doesn't leave a lot of time for that without sacrificing something else.

But I want to start with something easy, something that may or may not ever be published. Kelli gave me the perfect idea: a history of the Quadrangle in Jeffersonville. For those of you who are not local creatures, the Quadrangle (or what's left of it), is a large, four-sided brick building with an enormous center courtyard. Each side of the building is a city block in length, but it is only one story high with a four-story archway/widow's walk building.

To the best of my knowledge, the Quadrangle was built soon after the Civil War, possibly in 1870. I say this because the house my wife and I live in shares many of its architectural features with the Quadrangle, but we have been led to believe that our house is older (circa 1860). It was originally built for the Army as a Quartermaster's Depot.

You may be wondering why anyone would care about a book about one building that is now only a shadow of its former self. First, it is currently in the process of being renovated, an action that will draw more attention the the building. Second, it connects directly to the Civil War, an area of history that seems to be of interest to many people alive today. Third, it's about a block from where we live, meaning that I can have (hopefully) some hands-on time with the site and, hopefully, give a more personal feel to the story.

So we shall see. There is much I do not know that I will have to find out over the course of the next six months. My goal is to have the "paper" research done by the time I turn 33 next May. I have a feeling that there are many weighty tomes in my future.

Redcoats

Today in 1783, the last British soldier left New York, ending English occupation of what would become the United States. Even though we celebrate July 4th as our date of independence, I have always thought that this day should receive some notice as well.

Plastique

I stole the following from the forums section of Fark.com. That guy probably stole it from somewhere else:

"Michael Jackson Admits Plastic Surgery; France Unconvinced
--Chirac Demands More Time for U.N. Face Inspectors

At the United Nations today, U.S. Secretary of State Colin Powell offered what he called "conclusive proof" that the singer Michael Jackson has had plastic surgery, but failed to convince France.

In his presentation, Powell first showed two photos of Jackson, taken in 1979 and 2003, to illustrate the dramatic transformation of the singer's face from human to Halloween mask.

As Security Council members watched intently, Powell then played a tape of a recent court appearance by Jackson, during which the tip of his nose appeared to fall from his face and onto the floor.

Finally, Powell played a tape of the ABC program "20/20" in which Jackson admitted he had plastic surgery, after which a visibly frustrated Powell turned to the ambassador from France and asked, "How much more freaking proof do you clowns need?"

While the French ambassador did not respond, impassively sipping on a glass of red wine while reading a book by Camus, later in the day French President Jacques Chirac had harsh words for Powell, saying that the Secretary of State "had proved nothing."

President Chirac added that the United Nations should grant its official face inspection team more time to look at Jackson's head to determine whether the singer had plastic surgery or not.

In related news, President Chirac said the U.S. had failed to show convincing proof that Jennifer Lopez has a big ass."

JFK

I haven't talked about the JFK assassisination anniversary today because, to be honest, I think it's been done to death. But as a former resident of Dallas who used to drive that famed route past Dealy Plaza about three times a week, I can say that it's been on my mind all day. I have my own theories (most of them borrowed from others) about what really happened that day; I'll try to touch on them tomorrow evening.

Yet Another List

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I just rememebered that I promised you a Top List every Friday night/Saturday morning. I have to say that I'm not very prepared, so I'm going to do the antithesis of my last list. Thus, here are my Top 5 Least Favorite Movies (seen in a movie theater), in no particular order.

1. GI Jane-Demi Moore, SEAL. No freakin' way. The only, only reason I didn't leave this film after the first 12 minutes was because we were there with my in-laws, who seemed to be enjoying it. The final straw? The scene where she is talking to her Command Master Chief on the USS Michigan, a ballistic missle sub. As they talk, the make right, then left, then right, then left turns through SQUARE doors as if the boat was the size of an aircraft carrier. NOTE: Don't take me to a Navy movie if you want to enjoy it.

2. The Unforgiven-This piece of crap actually starred some of the best actors in Hollywood: Gene Hackman (a favorite of mine), Clint Eastwood and Morgan Freeman. But, really, did they have to spend the movie fighting to save a whorehouse? And, to add insult to injury, it won NINE Oscars. Sheesh. I still remember the Courier-Journal's review: "This film is refreshingly free of race and gender stereotypes." It was also free of much of a plot, but the PC police let that ride, I guess.

3. The Godfather Part III-I hated this film because it was so sub-par when compared to it predecessors. Sofia Coppola's acting is soooo bad in this film that (and I'll swear to this) I almost stood up and cheered when she died. I know; I'm an ass. But a plot to kill the Pope unmasked by Michael Corleone? Really? This is how it ends? Did I miss something?

4. I Come in Peace -You haven't seen this movie. It starred Dolph Lundgren as a Houston cop on the trail of, get this, intergalactic drug smugglers. What's the drug? Something produced by the human brain, of course. You can imagine what's next. Anyway, this movie did have one redeeming line: "I came here to do two things---chew bubble gum and kick some ass. I'm all out of bubble gum."

5. The Fish That Saved Pittsburgh-A tale about a jinxed fictional Pittsburgh NBA team who hire an astrologer to help them win. I saw this film in 1979, when I was 8. It was so bad that I can still watch it in my mind to this day. It starred many NBA stars of the day, men who are not known, generally, for being Laurence Olivier on the screen. Example: Shaq O'Neille.

Damn, I could do this all night.

Measurement

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The guys on Loveline were talking about Hobopower tonight. For the uninitiated, Hobopower is a unit of stink (do you see where the "hobo" part comes from now?). The Hobopower Scale runs from 1 to 100, with 1 being something that you can just barely notice as being smelly in a bad way. A 50 Hobopower scent will make you physically ill. 100 Hobopower is only a theoretical odor strength, since smelling it would instantly kill you.

This got me to thinking about things in life that we don't measure, but probably should. The list is long, but I want to concentrate on three items: Intelligence, Dexterity/Strength and Beauty.

1. Intelligence. Those of you out there who consider yourselves little Einsteins are thinking, "But, O Wise One, we already have a measurement of intelligence---it's called IQ." Hold on, Columbo; IQ measures a person's learning capacity, not the actual knowledge they already possess. We need a test that measures both capacity and current "inventory" and spits out a number in units that I would like to call Hawkings.

2. Dexterity/Strength (DS). This would measure both a person's ability to lift heavy weights and run/move quickly with precision. The resulting number would be in units called Schwarzenegger-Barishnikovs, or Schwarznikovs.

3. Beauty. This is a tough one. Beauty IS in the eye of the beholder, but there must be something in common among people who are generally considered beautiful (super models, hunky actors). I suggest a very large, expensive government study, but the resulting units of measurement would be called Helens.

On the surface, it may seem a bit callous to boil someone down to a set of numbers. But don't we do this every day? Don't we all see a member of the opposite sex (or the same sex, NTTIAWWT) and instantly make a beauty assessment? When you meet someone for the first time and have a conversation, don't you come away with some measure of their intelligence? Finally, when you go on an interview, aren't you being sized up?

All three of these measurements would be on a 1-10 scale so they could be averaged for a non-weighted composite score. Thus, both a physics professor and a lingerie model could hold a 6.333 (9+5+5=19/3=6.3333 [repeating]). Jobs listings in the newspaper could ask for specific Hawkings or Schwarznikovs. This way, if you don't have the right combination of numbers, you don't have to waste you time getting your suit pressed.

Does anyone else think that I just might have too much time on my hands?

Doing vs. Understanding

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When I was a kid, my father used to complain about people who called themselves electricians but who actually just knew how to run wires, replace motors, etc. Years later, when I was rebuilding turbochargers and fuel injectors, we called people who weren't technicians "parts changers". The difference is between being able to follow directions or truly understand why something works the way it does.

Now, in the IT world, I am beginning to see the same thing. Let me say up front that I am by no means an expert on anything IT-related; almost of my knowledge has been gleaned via doing, breaking and fixing. However, I try to learn why things work the way they do (after all, everything was designed a specific way for a reason). Why? Because I know that there are always going to be situations for which there is no manual or other means of technical support.

I ran into one of those situations earlier this evening, when I was able to successfully solve a problem only because I understood the root cause of an error message I was receiving in an application. In this case, there would not have been a manual, website or help desk person on the planet who could've solved the problem because it was, as far as I know, unique. This doesn't make me a genius; it just means I have done my homework.

Unfortunately, there are people in all sorts of IT jobs who are, for lack of a better term, clueless. I don't work with any of them (thankfully), but I know a few. What irks me is that these people give us all a bad reputation, especially in the area of home and small business PC/network support. There is a certain trust factor that you have to build with a customer; ideally, they will hang on your every word and suggestion. But it only takes one bad experience for all that trust to drain away.

So, IT cowboy, listen up----you are making my life more difficult. Go into another field, preferably one for which I will never need your services. Thanks.

The Brits

On some level, I'm glad that no one in our Armed Forces wears furry hats like that. How can you be taken seriously when you look like the end of a Q-Tip?

I know, I know; it's tradition. I have a great deal of respect for Her Majesty's military; I just think they need to maybe loosen up a little.

Rush's Return

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I had an interesting e-mail exchange earlier this evening that got me to thinking about Rush Limbaugh's return to the airwaves. Before I start my rant, I need to let you know where I am coming from:

1. I am a conservative and I agree with Rush much more often than I disagree.
2. I haven't listened to Rush regulary in about two years.
3. The few times I have listened, I was reminded that he has become an elitist, a quality that I despise in people.
4. His elitism does not invalidate his message; it just makes me turn off the messenger.

I read the transcript of the first 20 minutes of Rush's program on Monday and I have to say that I was a little suprised (maybe I shouldn't have been). His monologue read more like a campaign speech than something prepared by a man who had just returned from a full-immersion recovery program. On the surface, he said nothing. But if you read between the lines, he said much more.

The one big thing that struck me is the pharse, "....in order to do this thing I had to do." If you talk to recovering addicts who are honest about their disease, they will tell you that their sobriety is something they have to face every day for the rest of their lives. There are no quick fixes; you don't go away and get "cured", as Rush seems to believe. This tells me that he has not fully come to terms with what's going on in his life.

Were I Rush, this is the way I would have begun my day on Monday (I get to be fantasy Radio Guy for a moment):

"Ladies and Gentlemen, it is good to be with you once again. As most, if not all, of you know by now, I have been in a full-time recovery program for the past five weeks. I will not tell you that I am cured, for sobriety is a life-long pursuit for those of us who struggle with addiction. I have fought and won a battle, but there will be many more in my future.

Some of you listening today see me as a hypocrite, as someone who has taken a strong stance against drugs while I was abusing them. If this is what you believe, you are correct. While I do believe that drugs are a menance in this great nation, I consoled myself by believing that I could be the exception to the rule; that I could be different. But I am not different, and to continue to espouse these beliefs was to essentially lie to you, the audience that has been with me for over 15 years. For this, I am sorry.

So we move forward today, for this, I believe, is what I was meant to do with my life. My beliefs have not changed----I still believe that conservative values are what made this nation great and what will save her in the future. But I also understand that some of you can not continue believing in me and in this program. If this is the case, then I wish you Godspeed and a good life.

For the rest of you, let's move on from this. There will continue to be stories about me as there is still a criminal investigation to contend with. I will do my best to cooperate, but I will move on with my life and with this program. With that in mind, I stand before you as a man who is still struggling, who still needs your prayers, and who still has mountains to climb.

Now let's go."

Age

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My mother fell and and shattered some of the bones in her shoulder this morning. She's 67 and my first thought was this it might have been some sort of age-related accident. In reality, she tripped on a foot stool in the dark when she got up (at 4AM) to say the rosary, something that she has done since before I was born. To quote her, "Any damn fool could've tripped over something in the dark."

She's right, of course. I have tripped over stuff in the middle of the day, and I'm supposed to be spry and well-balanced. But the implication of a broken bone in a senior citizen has really made me realize that my parents are slowly becoming fragile, something I do not take lightly. I knew the days of elderly parents would come (and it's really not here, yet), but not the days of fragility. Broken hips, arthritis and the rest are things that happen to other old people, not my parents.

Since I see mom and dad often, their age has seemed to come on them slowly. But I know that down the road somewhere, hard decisions are going to have to be made about living arrangements and all the rest. It may be 10 years from now, but it's coming like a freight train and there's nothing I can do about it. I dread this, for I have seen friends make these decisions and it's never easy. Essentially, either your parents tell you or (worse) you tell your parents that they can't stay in their house anymore because they can't take care of it or themselves. I doesn't matter that it's the house you and your siblings grew up in or that it's the house they've put 40 years of work into to make it just the wanted it.

In my opinion, it's a pretty shitty deal.

Weigh-In

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From The Washington Post:

"The Lord of the Rings" star Liv Tyler is paying no mind to the Hollywood suits who want her to shed poundage, according to the Internet Movie Database. The 26-year-old daughter of rocker Steven Tyler says she has been told by movie bosses that she risks losing top film roles unless she reduces the size of her God-given bod. But Liv, who trimmed to a svelte 125 pounds for her part as heroine Arwen in the "Lord of The Rings" trilogy, then piled 28 pounds right back on after shooting wrapped. She insists she's happy with her weight and doesn't want to diet. She says, "I've been told that if I lose weight I'd have more work, but . . . to the rest of the world I am slim and I like the way I am." Bless you.

I have a theory about the above story, and it's not pretty: only an angry gay man would tell Liv Tyler to lose weight.

I've been overweight most of my life. I have no one to blame but myself, so don't expect me to go on some rant about McDonalds and culture and bullshit of that stripe. But I will say that overweight people are the most discriminated against group of people in our society. If you are fat, you are lazy, possibly stupid and somehow non-sexual. Fat women are expected to stay in the background and fat men are supposed to be funny clowns (and many of us are because it's a great defense).

But I've learned to work inside the system. First, if you're a fat guy and you shave your head and grow some facial hair, people assume you are a bouncer or a debt collector. Second, it's a great way to sort out the genuine people from the people who should've been left on the iceberg.

Wow....I sound bitter. Sorry.

Radio

Two guys who used to be on the 84Online radio show with me had a sort of live audition on one of Louisville's NPR stations today. Overall, they did a fabulous job. The show was tight, they took a large number of calls and they didn't get "geeky" with the audience. I wish them all the luck in the world.

But I have to admit that I am a little envious. It's not that they have a shot at a new radio show and I don't as I am quite happy to be on a 50,000 watt station. What I yearn for is a more professional show than the one we put out now. It's not the panel, but our host who is the problem. He is consistently rude to callers, interupts us at every opportunity, and has tried to turn his limited knowledge of computers into some sort of bizarre avenue for meeting women. I probably shouldn't post this on here as there are people connected to the show who read this blog; however, every week that goes by is another week that I despise him a little more.

So why won't I quit? Two reasons: one, I really like the other people on the show. As I have said before, I feel smarter just being around them. Secondly, I LOVE being on the radio. I don't know if it's ego or what, but I get jazzed when I have a microphone in front of me. Maybe what bothers me about all this is that, deep down, I'm more like our host than I realize.

Going Virtual

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I used to be a pretty big PC gamer. Of late, however, I have curtailed my activities a great deal, mainly because I realized how much valuable time I was wasting. But I am still intrigued by gaming and I do my best to keep up with what's new and what's poplular. I have stumbled up a virtual world game (like the Sims, I guess) called Second Life. By what I have seen on the website, the game looks completely immersive and fluid. There seems to be no goal other than to live your life and pursue whatever goals you set.

So how, you may ask, is this different than real life? Well, ummm....it isn't, and that's a wee bit troubling to me. There are quite a few games out there like Second Life, with more popping up all the time. It is becoming a real option to almost completely opt out of this life and go live in cyberspace. There was a time, not too long ago, when you had to deal with your situation here because you had to live this life or die. Now, you can just join "the matrix".

I'm going to make a prediction: within 50 years, there will be people whose bodies are living on life support who are constantly "jacked in" to a virtual world. They will have careers, homes, cars and love lives online. It won't be a scary thing like The Matrix, but a "lifestyle choice" offered to the old, the sick or people who just can't hack it for whatever reason. People will set up annuities (with money made online?) to pay for the cost of their physical upkeep, but may have little or no interaction with the offline world.

Sooner or later, we are going to have to redefine what it is to be human.

My Brush with Fame, Sort of

I may have told some of you this story before; if I have, I'm sorry.

Sometimes, I like to read Navy news releases. I know that sounds corny, but I always maintain hope that I will run into a name that I remember (even though I have been out of the Navy for 11 years). Last night, I did run into a name: Vice Admiral Robert Willard.

Now, you may ask how I, a lowly petty officer, got to know an admiral. I'm glad you asked. First, he was not an admiral when I knew him; he was a Captain, but still high enough in the stratosphere that he and I did not share beers or anything. He was attending school at NPTU in Charleston, SC at the same time I was. We were paired for about two weeks on the same watch team: he was the watch officer, I was the RO (Reactor Operator) and two more students served at Throttleman and Electrical Panel Operator.

So why am I telling you this? Because you know Robert Willard, too. If you have ever seen the film 'Top Gun', you will remember that all the MiG pilots wore dark helmet visors so you could not see their faces. This is because they were actually US Navy pilots and every pilot in Naval Aviation had a price on his head because we were bombing Libya while the movie was being filmed. Anyway, one of those guys was then-Lt. Cdr. Robert "Rat" Willard, F-14 pilot and Top Gun instructor.

Willard was attending prototype training with me because in order for a man to command a nuclear-powered ship, he has to go through the "nuclear pipeline". As his bio will attest, he later went on to command a carrier, then a battle group and now the entire Seventh Fleet. I can say I knew him when.

Ring around the Moon

There's a halo around the moon this morning. I read somewhere that halos like that are caused by ice crystals high in the atmosphere. I don't know if that's correct, but it certainly is beautiful.

On mornings like this, I have to scold myself for not paying attention to the good things around me more often. During the winter, I almost never see daylight. If I get up after 6PM, I don't see daylight at all. I get very depressed about this at times, and it's hard to keep things in perspective. But I keep telling myself that this is temporary; of course, it was termporary 18 months ago.

Synchronicity

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Since I'm up all night, I have the opportunity to listen to George Noory almost every evening. However, I haven't been listening as often lately because his guests seem to be either new age healers, remote viewers or apocalyptic book authors. (By the way, if you were convinced that we are near the end times, would you spend your time writing a book or building an undeground fortress in the Montana Rockies? HMMMM.) But I caught a little bit of his interview last night with Deeprak Chopra who, evidently, is well-known for something.

During the phone-in portion of the program, people kept talking about synchronicity and how they would see the same numbers all the time ("11" seems to be very popular). I stopped my work and listened for a minute, for the same thing happened to me for about a year, beginning soon after 9/11/2001. It seemed as if every time I looked at a clock, it was 11 after the hour. When I would go grocery shopping, prices that began or ended in 11 caught my eye. It got so bad that I actually mentioned it to my wife. After much thought, I came to the conclusion that my brain was looking for the number 11 everywhere because, subconsciously, I knew that number now had special significance in all our lives. It's not that I wasn't noticing other numbers like I always had; it's just that 11 stuck out as important.

What amazes me now is that people need to attach some kind of cosmic significance to things like this. In reality, you can find all sorts of weird relationships in the universe. For example, everyone in my immediate family, parents included, has an 11 in their birthday month or day. The lone exception is my youngest sister, and the doctor induced my mom early with her because he was going on vacation (you could do that in the early 60's). Is this some sign from the heavens? No, and here's why:

There are 12 months in a year, and each month has, to make things easy, 30 days (I know that some have 31 and February varies; work with me here). All other things being equal (I'm not writing a doctoral thesis), your odds of being born in a certain month are 12:1 and your odds of being born on any day in a given month are 30:1. While these odds are pretty long by horse racing standards, they're not incredible. And what's more, just because my next oldest brother was born in November (the 11th month) doesn't mean that I was any more or less likely to be born on May 11th. With every child, the odds "table" is wiped clean. So, really, it's just a neat coincidence that we talk about during Thanksgiving.

The problem, as I see it, is that many, many people don't believe in neat coincidences. Everything happens for a reason. Jeb Bush is the governor of Florida=>His brother is the President=>There were perceived voting "irregularites" in Florida=>The 2000 Presidential Race must've been fixed. That's a bad example because it doesn't involve a set of random numbers, but my point is that we would all be better off (and a lot less likely to buy into New Age crap) if we all took some classes in statistics and probability and realize that God, although he made a wild universe, also made a logical, well-reasoned one. As I have always said, being religious (or spritual) is not a reason to abandon logic and reason.

What was I talking about?

The Book Sets Sail

I finally started on my next book this morning. I have started many books since I finished my last one in late August of 2001, but I finally wrote an introduction that I can be proud of. It's always that first page that seems to be the most difficult for me; it's like the foundation of a house.

I was not going to mention any of this, but I fear that I will not work on it regularly if other people don't know about it. I'm lazy, I guess, but there is more: I actually know how hard it is to write a book. The first time around, I had no idea what I was in for. Now, I understand how much editing and re-writing is involved and it depresses me a little. I had to re-write the first three chapters of the last book, something that took me nearly a month.

So why bother? Simple: I know deep, deep down inside that this is what I was meant to do. We live in a time when it is very difficult to make a good living as a writer. But if I don't try now, before life overwhelms me, I will regret it forever.

So I am going to include you, dear reader, in my tribulations. At the beginning of every posting day, I will list how many pages I have written in total. Just so you know, each page is double-spaced (this is how manuscripts are supposed to be submitted) and the font is 12pt. Arial. I will only count complete pages. So now, on this first day:

PAGES: 3

Live to Work, Work to Live

I was browsing through the archives of a friend's blog earlier this evening (I may post a link to him on here, but I will have to get permission first) and I came across an old entry that made took me back a few years to an issue I do not often think about. It is the classic conundrum: do I live to work or work to live? On the surface, it seems like a pointless question, but your answer says a lot about your life.

I neither hate nor love my current position. It is fairly easy, based upon my IT skill set. This is good in that I am rarely frustrated or hit with a tough deadline. This is also bad because my job presents almost no challenge to my life. So, in many ways, I would have to say that my career is really just something that pays the bills and allows me to do the things I really enjoy.

But this is subject to change. After the first of the year, my job responsibilities will change dramatically and many new challenges will come my way. I welcome this in the same way that I welcomed the routine of my current position when I left my old job over three years ago. I am also looking forward to working with human beings again, something to which I have become unaccustomed.

I am a little leary of people (mainly men) who live for their careers. Most of the time, it is done under the guise of "providing a better life for my family". Really? Or is it just to stoke your ego? And if it stokes your ego to such a degree that you sacrifice nearly everything else for your career, then doesn't that mean you measure everyone against the yardstick of their career acheivements? And if that is so, what does that say about you? Tell me if I'm wrong here, but if your impression of a person is based almost soley upon their career choices, doesn't that make you an asshole?

Defending Sharpton

If you are at all interested in politics, you know that Al Sharpton is running for the Democrat nomination. It's not that anyone takes him seriously; it's more that he's the comic relief that keeps you from falling asleep whenever John Kerry opens his mouth. But an article in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution made me realize that his candidacy isn't funny at all. It would seem that some black leaders are embarrassed that they are "forced" to publicy defend Sharpton.

Maybe I'm out of line here, but if you don't like what the man has to say, then why are you defending him? Is it because of his skin color? Do I have to defend Bill Clinton because he's white? I wonder what Martin Luther King would say about how far we've come towards creating a color-blind society.

Jessica Lynch

I watched the first half-hour of the Jessica Lynch interview, all the while telling myself that I wouldn't. It is clear to everyone, I think, that both the Army and our media have used this young woman as a pawn to forward their own agendas. But something no one is talking about (because it is far from politically-correct) is why we are talking about Lynch at all.

The answer is simple: she's a very cute, blonde, girl-next-door from a tiny town in West Virginia. If her story had been about a husky, gruff First Sergeant from a Marine Expiditionary Unit, you would've already forgotten his name. If she had been a black single mother, this story would not be told. As I said before, we will never know the names of the sailors (they were SEALS, after all) who rescued her. And the soldiers who died all around her that day are mentioned as an afterthought. No $300,000 book deals are coming their way.

The Good Old Days

I've always been a fan of F. Scott Fitzgerald, going back to my junior year when I had to read "Winter Dreams" for my American Literature class. Fitzgerald died a broken man, both financially and spiritually, but his early work (pre-Depression) betrays none of the torments that would eventually claim him. What I love, I guess, is his vision of this nation and its people: robust, prosperous, eyes always fixed on a future in which America would play a central role. The horrors of the World War were never going to touch us again, because no nation would even consider starting another war in Europe, right?

Another aspect of Fitzgerald that I find comforting is the guarantee of success that all his characters carry around with them. If you went to the right school and kept you chin up, your success in life was guaranteed. You were going to be invited to join an old prestigious firm owned by a friend's father who would slap you on the back at least once a day and tell you how you were going to make something of yourself. You would marry a ravishing beauty who would blush at the lightest obscenity but who, miraculously, was a tiger in the bedroom. Your parties would all be airy, light affairs filled with tales of Wall Street successes and lots of imported, then-illegal alcohol. Of course, everyone knew someone who had fallen on his face, but those people weren't real; they were merely signposts warning you about the pitfalls of laziness and opium consumption.

The truth of the matter is that Fitzgerald's world didn't really exist, even for Fitzgerald and his circle of ex-pats living the life in France in the 20's. There was no middle class as we know it today and to be anything but a white male of European descent was to essentially not exist. But it was as good an escape then as it is today, to recognize yourself in those happy, well dressed people dancing at the Yale club.

Growing up, one of my uncles lived in the same neighborhood as my parents. He would stop by often and he and my dad would stand in the driveway and talk about everything. My grandfather was barely five years younger than Fitzgerald (he lived to be much, much older), but his world was one of bare survival. As a result, my father, uncle and their siblings grew up in surroundings that were, to be kind, less than optimal. Like so many men of their generation, they did not respond by seeking out the therapist's couch, but rather by working hard and giving their children more than they had ever been given.

But I will never forget what my uncle said one day in the driveway, almost as an afterthought: "THESE are the good old days." He said this in response to his older brothers and father, who waxed poetic about the halcyon days of the 50's, when they were all in business together and Ike was the man. But my uncle and my father knew better---they remembered days of barely making ends meet and wondering how they were going to pay the bills all winter.

Indeed, despite everything that is going on in our world, these truly are the good old days. We are the most prosperous, wealthiest nation in the history of man. People are living longer now than they ever have. I say this as someone who has never known hard times. In fact, anyone under 80 in this country does not remember truly hard times. None of us remembers a time when not just a job in our salary range and career was unavailable, but when NO jobs were available. We are spoiled, and we don't even know it (thanks to DLP for the link). Most of us, even those of us squarely in the middle class, are living the life that Fitzgerald wrote about, even if we don't see it.

Veteran's Day

Today is Veteran's Day. Originally, this holiday was called Armistice Day to honor the end of the first World War. Some time later (After World War Two, I think) the name and the holiday were changed to what we know today.

All of you know someone who is a veteran; some fought in wars, some helped to protect the peace. Either way, all of them made some sacrifice to help defend our way of life. Without the veteran, the poet, the painter, the teacher, or the even the politician and the lawyer would not exist as we know them today. Thank one.

Big Brother UN at Your Keyboard

I found a link at Slashdot which lead to a Financial Times article about the shelving of a UN plan for internet oversight. It seems that some "poor" countries (China was on this list, which should tell you something) are not happy that internet standards, top level domains, etc. are overseen by ICANN, which is based in California. Just for the record, can anyone name a successful UN program? Better yet, can you name a UN program that has not become mired in the politics of third-world dictators and crackpots? WHEN ARE WE GOING TO TELL THOSE ASS-CLOWNS TO LEAVE NEW YORK? Excuse me; I have to go scream now.

Chaplain Discrimination?

There's an article over at Foxnews.com concerning a Navy chaplain's claim that he got into trouble for talking to the news network (while in uniform) about his lawsuit. He is suing the Navy over alleged discrimination against evangelical chaplains. According to him, Catholic and mainline Protestant chaplains are promoted faster, get better assignments, etc.

I don't know if this man's case has any merit to it, but I can imagine a scenario in which his accusations are rooted in his inablity to understand that he may have to, at times, minister to sailors and Marines who are not of his same faith. And, (drumroll, please) the Rear Admiral in charge of Navy chaplains is a Roman Catholic priest. Coincidence? Hardly. Watch and learn; I smell a smear campaign coming on.

Revolutions

I neglected to mention earlier that we saw the last film in the Matrix trilogy on Saturday night. In my opinion, it was better than the second movie, but miles away from the first in terms of story. I guess I expected too much. There were many unanswered questions that are still unanswered.

My friend Mike made a very astute observation. In the first film, we were introduced to the crew who rescued Neo. They were "flying" a century-old ship that seemed to be held together by bailing wire and duct tape. They ate some sort of synthetic oatmeal and wore the same clothes all the time. Yet, when the time came to defend the city of Zion, the free humans suddenly had a seemingly unlimited supply of armored robots, ammunition and fancy lightning guns. Was all this stuff in storage? Where did all the technology come from?

Overall, the series was a disappointment. I think that, perhaps, there was enough material for one movie. But after the success of the first film, I guess the unlimited checkbook was cracked open and the brothers W. had to cook up two more plots.

Headlines

Here's two headlines from American magazines. Can you tell which magazines? Don't read any further until you've given it some thought.

1. Americans are Losing the Victory
2. How We Botched the Occupation

Think you know? Are you sure? OK...read below

1. LIFE magazine. January 7, 1945.
2. Saturday Evening Post. January 26, 1946

Both refer to World War Two in Europe. The full headlines are "...in Europe" and "...of Germany" respectively. Oh, the enlightened media.

Group Nudity

I just finished watching a documentary about Spencer Tunick, a photographer who does group nudity photos in outdoor surroundings. I'm normally not the kind of person who is intrigued by art like this, but this man's work really struck a chord in me. I guess the biggest thing I noticed was how people can be completely naked and still look strong and defiant. Nudity and strength aren't things that I tend think of at the same time.

Birth of the Top List

I was prepared to discuss a new movie about a Columbine-like shooting, Shania Twain's lack of winter shaving and rumors about Prince Charles being gay. But it's Friday, I'm in a pretty good mood, and I think it's time to take this blog in different direction. Therefore, on Friday nights, I am going to start publishing a Top 5 or Top 10 list (depending on the subject). It will be my own Top list; feel free to chime in with your own in the comments section. Hopefully, I will be able to come up with something original every Friday. So, without further ado, I present you with my first Top 5 List:

MY TOP 5 FAVORITE FILMS OF ALL TIME (IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER):

1. The Shawshank Redemption---A great movie about friendship and hope under the worst of circumstances.

Favorite line: "I have no idea to this day what those two Italian ladies were singing about. Truth is, I don't want to know. Some things are best left unsaid. I'd like to think they were singing about something so beautiful, it can't be expressed in words, and makes your heart ache because of it. I tell you, those voices soared higher and farther than anybody in a gray place dares to dream. It was like some beautiful bird flapped into our drab little cage and made those walls dissolve away, and for the briefest of moments, every last man in Shawshank felt free."

2. GoodFellas---Based on a true story, this film did a pretty good job of exposing the dysfunctional relationships among wise guys.

Favorite scene: Henry Hill (Ray Liotta) pistol whips some punk neighbor who's been bothering his girlfriend (Lorraine Brocco). He then hands her the pistol and says, "Hang on to this for me." She's scared of it, but you see this look in her eyes, like she loves the fact that this guy would kill for her. He's addictive and she's hooked.

3. The Godfather Part One---Are you sensing a pattern here? Well, I do like mob/buddy movies. Anyway, the Godfather puts La Cosa Nostra in an unfairly good light, but a generation of movie-makers would follow the lead.

Favorite scene: Sonny Corleone (James Caan) beats his brother-in-law in the middle of a crowded street with a garbage can lid for hitting his wife (Sonny's sister). It's one of those scenes that is incredibly brutal, but I could see myself doing the same thing if someone hit one of my sisters.

4. Apocalypse Now---One of the most bizarre war movies ever made. Based on Joseph Conrad's "Heart of Darkness", which made a great deal more sense. I own both the original on DVD and the uncut version. There's a very good reason why the film was edited.

Favorite Line: Col. Kurtz (Marlon Brando) talking about bomber pilots from World War Two "They taught young men to drop fire from the sky but they wouldn't let them write 'fuck' on the side of their planes because it was obscene."

5. Office Space---One of the funniest films ever made. For anyone who has seriously questioned why we get up and go to work every morning and how the hell your manager ended up in management.

Favorite Line: Exchange between Joanna (Jennifer Aniston) and Peter (Ron Livingston).

"I've decided I really don't like work, either, so I'm not going to go anymore."
"So you're going to quit?"
"No. I'm just not going to go anymore."
"What about your bills? How are you going to pay them?"
"I'm don't think I'm going to do that either. I never liked bills much."

And there you have it. Next week, I may have another five to add to this list. We shall see.

Audacity

I know my ramblings have been very political of late; I'm not apologizing for this, but rather letting you know that I am aware of it. I always write about what's on my mind the moment I sit down in front of the keyboard and lately my thoughts have been on the political world. It is not my intention for this blog to become one giant political rant, so I am going to try to steer my thoughts towards other things.

As most of you know, I participate in a computer call-in show that airs locally here in Louisville on Sunday afternoons. If I were noble, I would tell you that I do it because I love helping people and it makes me feel warm and fuzzy. The truth is that, while I do like helping people, I have an ego the size of a blimp that I can only keep supressed by having some sort of public outlet for my voice, albeit a small one. It also helps that I am a geek and that I really like the other regulars on the show.

The show is actually three things: the radio show, a chat room, and e-mail questions. The e-mail questions have become a monster of late because only a few of us ever bother to answer them. I do what I can with the knowledge I have, but there's just too much out there for me to make a significant dent in the mounting pile of unanswered questions. This makes me feel very bad for two reasons: one, the show's host gives out the e-mail address about 14,586 times a show, which makes me feel obligated to help answer questions and two, most of the people who write in are very appreciative of the help we provide and I hate like hell to leave them hanging.

I say "most" because I have had two listeners in the past three weeks e-mail me with follow-up questions after I attempted to answer their question. This is not unusual, especially when my first answer doesn't solve the problem or leads to another problem. But these two guys (both were men) were dandies. I'll call them Moe and Curly.

Moe and I went back and forth about his problem no less than 6 times (that's 12 e-mails). In his last e-mail, he said (and I quote), "Just give me a call. This writing back and forth is getting old. You can reach me Tuesday between 3pm and 5pm." No please, thank you, kiss my ass....nothing. In a most courteous tone, I told him that since I work nights, a phone meeting would be hard to schedule and that he should consider taking his PC to a local shop. I wanted to say, "Moe, my rate is $x an hour. The clock is running the moment your phone rings. And, I'm like a lawyer: if I'm thinking about you, that's billable time. It's your dime."

Curly's ire took a lot less time to build. He had a particularly nasty virus that is hard to completely remove. The easiest way to fix it is to blow off your hard drive and reinstall everything. But since he didn't have any backups of anything, this wasn't an option. After two e-mails, he wrote back saying that "you're (that's me) not any help." Indeed. I didn't write back to Curly for fear that my e-mail would land me in some sort of trouble with the radio station.

I know that some people are just assholes. But the advice we give is free, gratis, pro bono. If it doesn't help you, you're not out anything except a little bit of time. It blows me away that someone would have the audacity to get angry at someone who is trying to help them and isn't charging them the first nickle. My only consolation is that about half of the e-mails I answer elicit short thank-you notes. It means the world and helps me to keep the occasional bastard in perspective.

Hero?

A quote from Jessica Lynch, from the Drudge Report:

"Jessica Lynch criticized military for exaggerating accounts of her rescue and recasting her ordeal as patriotic fable.... MORE.. Asked by ABCNEWS anchor Diane Sawyer if military's portrayal of rescue bothered her, Lynch said: 'Yeah, it does. It does that they used me as a way to symbolize all this stuff. Yeah, it's wrong' ... Asked how she felt about reports of her heroism: 'It hurt in a way that people would make up stories that they had no truth about. Only I would have been able to know that, because the other four people on my vehicle aren't here to tell the story. So I would have been the only one able to say, Yeah, I went down shooting. But I didn't' ... Asked about claims the military exaggerated danger of the rescue mission: 'Yeah, I don't think it happened quite like that'... "

I pity Jessica Lynch. I pity her because she is quickly becoming a pawn in a battle that has nothing to do with her. She is a young woman who knows nothing about the sharks who interview her and who seek to shape every word that comes out of her mouth into and indictment of the Bush administration and this war on terror.

The media is dying to have another Vietnam. They want so badly to be able to report on young Americans dying in large numbers at the hands of misunderstood people just trying to save their way of life. They want this so badly, in fact, that they are willing to lie in order to acheive their goals. For a real look at how this war is going, check out by Karl Zinsmeister. WE ARE BEING LIED TO ABOUT HOW BADLY THE EFFORT IN IRAQ IS GOING.

I get so spun up about the coverage of events in Iraq that I don't even watch TV news anymore. What bothers me even more is how many people are buying into this hook, line and sinker. Anyone with common sense knows that the economy is in recovery and that the only issue in 2004 is going to be the war on terror. This is how they will come at G.W.; I hope he's ready.

'The Reagans' and Censorship

I waited to chime in on this topic until the mainstream media began doing what it always does when it gets slapped around by the public: crying like a bunch of unpaid whores. I have been waiting for a word to appear in print and on the airwaves, a word that always appears at such times----censorship.

In case you don't know the whole tale, let me start at the beginning. CBS was going to air a mini-series entitled 'The Reagans' about Ron and Nancy during their White House years. There was only one little problem: much of the dialogue and scenes were complete fictions, written to make the Gipper look like an idiot and Nancy look like an overbearing bitch. The President was played by Mr. Streisand himself, James Brolin.

As is often the case in Hollyweird, some enterprising soul leaked the script to Matt Drudge. The game was up as conservatives came out of the woodwork to make their feelings known about such a travesty against a man who is completely unable to defend himself. Nancy Reagan pleaded with CBS to not air the show, fearing that it would seriously damage her husband's legacy. Talk radio exploded with callers who, like me, see Ronald Reagan as one of, if not THE, greatest president of the 20th century. But most importantly, talk of an advertiser boycott began to surface. Unlike the Jesse Jacksons and Al Sharptons of the world, when conservatives of all types band together and boycott, stocks plummet and companies suffer.

Three or four days ago, CBS announced that 'The Reagans' would not air on their network. Instead, it will be shown on CBS-owned Showtime next year. Supposedly, the network decided that the show was too biased and went out of its way to be controversial. And while the network is no stranger to controversy, it believed that, in this case, the deck was stacked unfairly.

Conservatives all across the nation called the move a victory. Being a skeptic, I knew that it would take about 48 hours for the liberal elite to get their shit together and begin their "censorship" assault. ''The right to free expression of opinion is damaged by this,'' said Jonathan Estrin, a TV producer and dean at Drexel University in Philadelphia. Barbra Streisand had a similar quote on her website, but self-respect prevents me from directly quoting her here, as I may burst into flames while doing so.

Let's look at censorship. The word "censor" is derived from the name of a magistrate in the Roman government whose duty it was to count the populace and act as an overseer of public morality. So to be fair about it, the use of the word must be in reference to some sort of government oversight. Would it make sense to say that the viewers of CBS censored the network? Since when is censorship a grass-roots movement?

The truth of the matter is that CBS changed its tune because of money. The thought of losing advertising dollars, not fear of "censorship", is what made them rethink this issue. The awful truth is that everyone who is weeping and gnashing their teeth over this knows that the battle came down to money. But, of course, to admit that their art is influenced by money would be to admit that they might be (gasp!) capitalists. Sean Penn, call your office.

Sick

Sorry; no long entry tonight. I didn't sleep well today and I feel as if I have a cold or the beginnings of the flu. I'll make it up later.

Ooops...I Almost Forgot

Zell Miller has woken up. Come on in, Senator; the water's warm and Ted Kennedy is already upstairs with one of the maids.

Where are all the Republicans?

In Bernard Goldberg's book "Bias", he talks about media people he came to know during his years at CBS News. He tells a story that is very illustrative of how liberals in this country, especially those in the media, think. He knew a woman who was a columnist for the NY Times. When Nixon won election a second time by a landslide in 1972, she was heard to exclaim, "How can this be? I don't know anyone who voted for him!" Of course you didn't, and that's the problem.

I read an interesting statistic today: 72% of white males between 18 and 40 believe the G.W. Bush is doing a good job as President and plan on voting for him again in '04. 72% is an amazing approval number in any demographic that is as diverse as "white males", which encompasses any man who is not black or hispanic. I'm sure there are those of you out there who are scratching your head and wondering how such a statistic could be true. After all, any campus rally against Iraq is full of white males. And anyone who watches MTV knows that the white male is vanishing and is being replaced by the multi-raced metrosexual who doesn't have a trace of testosterone in his body (except if your black; then, somehow, your emotionally abusive attitude towards women is magically accepted).

But it's all wishful thinking for the PC whiners out there. One only has to look at the nine (or is it 10? I forget) people running for the Democratic nomination to see why so many men are turning to the Republicans. Would you feel good knowing that Joseph Lieberman had control of the nuclear football? Does Al Sharpton's economic plan make you feel warm and cozy? How about Wesley Clark, that George Patton for our generation who nearly brought us to blows with the Russians over an airport in Kosovo? (Thankfully, a British general had the good sense to tell him to sod off and ignored his orders).

There's one other thing to consider here, too, that has nothing to do with the Democrats and everything to do with the shape of things to come ala' the Republican Party. The mainstream media would have you believe that the Republican Party today is run by the Christian Coalition and the NRA. This is simply a lie. Consider this: Rudy Guliani and Orrin Hatch are in the same party. One is a pro-choice, social liberal; the other is just to the right of Ronald Reagan. Inside the Democrat Party, there is not pro-life movement; there is no low-tax lobby. In fact, to be a card-carrying Democrat, you either have to have been grandfathered in, be a minority looking for a handout, or be a member of a labor union. So who does that leave? Oh, that's right----just enough people to deliver W a second term. See you at the polls.

The Truth of Evil

The events of the last two years have often made me think about the dying concept of evil. I say "dying" because the political-correctness police have restricted the idea of evil to religious circles. No person or group is evil; their tactics may be immoral, but they can be explained rationally. We are led to believe that any of us could be evil monsters if given the right set of circumstances.

Really? Could I be the next Josef Stalin? If the answer is yes, then there must exist in me the ability to shut out compassion, kindness, loyalty and honesty---all things I hold dear. If the answer is no, then how did Stalin (or Hitler or Pol Pot) become the person he was?

The answer most given (in my experience) is that men who oversaw genocide had to approach it over time. Saddam Hussein started out as a hit man for the B'aath Party. Josef Stalin rose to power one murder at a time. Both of them had horrible, deprived childhoods. Modern thinking will tell you that both of these men are/were products of their environments.

While nuture undoubtedly plays a part in the development of tyrants, there must be something more. All of us know victims of childhood abuse and neglect; none of us knows any maniacal mass murderers. So that leaves us, in my opinion, with one glaring option: there is something called evil. We can argue about where it comes from and if it is the manifestation of a supreme evil being; none of us will ever know the answer.

I think modern society discounts evil because to acknowledge its existence is to admit that there are forces in the universe which might be divinely inspired and not the result of some natural force. It also means that some people are better than others in terms of behavior and morality; this is unacceptable because it might lead to (gasp!) finger-pointing. But I believe we will be a better society once we again accept the concept.

Apples and Oranges

I heard a caller on a radio show this evening make a truly profound statement. Basically, it is this: if you have two people arguing different sides of an issue and one is basing his argument on facts that he knows and the other is arguing because of his feelings, they will never agree. Never have truer words been spoken. And never has a statement better defined the two political parties in this nation.

All Around Us

This is what real heroes are made of.