I’m glad we have poets and such. There are times they say it better than anyone else.
“It’s comin’ on the end of August
Another summer’s promise almost gone
And though I heard a wise man say that every dog will have his day
He never mentioned that these dog days get so long
I don’t know when I realized the dream was over
There was no particular hour, no given day
You know, it didn’t go down in flame
There was no final scene, no frozen frame
I just watched it slowly fade away
And I’ve been waiting in the weeds-waiting for my time to come around again
Hope is floating on the breeze, carrying my soul high up above the ground
I’ve been keeping to myself
Knowing that the seasons are slowly changing you
And though you’re with somebody else-he’ll never love you like I do
I’ve been biding time with crows and sparrows
While peacocks prance and strut upon the stage
If finding love is just a dance-proximity and chance
You will excuse me if I skip the masquerade
And I’ve been waiting in the weeds-waiting for the dust to settle down
Along the back roads running through the fields lying on the outskirts of this lonesome town
And I imagine sunlight in your hair, you’re at the county fair
You’re holding hands and laughing
And now the ferris wheel has stopped-your’e swinging on the top, suspended there with him
And he’s the darling of the chic-the flavor of the week is melting down your pretty summer dress
Baby what a mess you’re making
I’ve been stumbling through some dark places, but I’m following the plough
I know I’ve fallen out of your good graces, but it’s all right now
And I’ve been waiting in the weeds-waiting for the summer rain to fall
Upon the wilds birds scattering the seeds-answering the calling of the tide’s eternal tune
The phases of the moon, the chambers of the heart, the egg and dart
A small gray spider spinning in the dark, in spite of all the times the web is torn apart.”
–Don Henley, Steuart Smith, From the Eagles' LONG ROAD OUT OF EDEN
Yeah. It’s like that.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Sunday, August 26, 2007
The Problem Of Pain
There's one thing that I've noticed about being a father that is simply horrible. It's that I have to watch my child suffer pain. I can think of no worse feeling that I have ever experienced. I hope I never experience anything worse. I've written here before that I would gladly suffer anything to keep my son from pain.
Some of that pain has to happen to him. When we take him for shots, I know intellectually that he is suffering a small amount of pain to avoid greater pain later on down the road. What's a shot compared to the horror of polio? I know this in my own mind, but I can't help but want to strangle the person who is giving him shots. How dare they harm my child?
I can see it in his eyes. He has no understanding of why this is happening to him. All he knows is that he's in pain, it's horrible, and he wants it to stop. The look in his eyes is heartbreaking, because he blames us for causing this pain. We, his parents, who are supposed to protect him at all costs. And we've let him down. He doesn't know that it's for his own good. He doesn't know that it's going to make him better and stronger down the road. All he knows is that it hurts, and we are responsible for it.
It's the same when he bonks his little head, or any of the other myriad disasters that befall little ones. They take their first steps, and they fall. They accidentally grab something hot, and they get burned. Each and every little agony that happens makes them a bit stronger. They learn from it. I realize now as a parent I can't keep him from suffering the little things that life is going to hit him with. I also realize it's a bad idea to shield him from the everyday hurts of life. He can't become a strong person without pain. He can't learn to function in this world without pain. This is how we learn.
Basically, it sucks.
In a conversation with some friends the other day, the age-old question arose once again: if God loves us so much, why do we have to suffer? I can see that question in my son's eyes each time he's hurt. Why me? Why do I have to suffer this?
That's a very valid question, that actually puts the entire existence of God into some doubt. I'd be lying if I said it didn't cross my mind from time to time. Why in world do we suffer, if there's a God up there that can prevent it all from happening to us, if he cared to? Why doesn't he stop this? The hurt human cries out to God in these moments. Why did I have to suffer through the death of a parent, the car crash that paralyzed me, the burning down of my house, losing my job, the war that destroyed my village, the death of my spouse, the cancer, etc. The list goes on and on. Every single one of us has asked that question. And more than a few of us have decided that there can be no God, since if he existed he would not allow his loved ones to suffer so much. After all, what sort of loving Father could allow any harm at all to befall his children? The answer: one that loves them so much that he understands they have to make some pretty horrible mistakes in order to figure things out.
I think God has, in some ways, the same perspective that I have on the pain that my child has to go through. He knows why we're suffering this stuff. We have no idea. Is it possible that some of the evil that befalls us in this world is because we have a lesson to learn? That he's trying to put us where he wants us, in the frame of mind that he wants us in? Is whatever evil we're suffering the spiritual equivalent of a hot pan? We shouldn't have touched it in the first place. But we're damn sure not going to touch it again on purpose, are we?? Does he let us fall, only to learn some sort of lesson from it?
This is certainly a possibility. We can't even come close to fathoming the mind of a being that is mighty enough to create the universe. Our arrogance and pride allow us to think that we can get into his motivations, and get inside his head. We put things in our own framework, thinking that our experience and knowledge are the pinnacle of independent and rational thought in the universe.
If a being is capable of organizing molecules into something as complex as a human being, and capable of organizing a planet to support the life of a human, I know I'm not on the same level of thought. That's pretty humbling. I can't understand at this point anything that he's letting me suffer, any more than my son understands at this point why he's getting a painful shot. One day, he will. But he hasn't matured enough in his understanding of the world to figure that one out yet.
I would have never reached this conclusion without being a parent. Only after reaching this level am I able to even postulate this sort of hypothesis.
That's simply my view on the situation. It's a partial explanation. Nor do I think it's the entire explanation. However, it does explain quite a bit of the suffering that we go through. C.S. Lewis offers more (and much better written, I might add) explanations in his book, THE PROBLEM OF PAIN.
Some of that pain has to happen to him. When we take him for shots, I know intellectually that he is suffering a small amount of pain to avoid greater pain later on down the road. What's a shot compared to the horror of polio? I know this in my own mind, but I can't help but want to strangle the person who is giving him shots. How dare they harm my child?
I can see it in his eyes. He has no understanding of why this is happening to him. All he knows is that he's in pain, it's horrible, and he wants it to stop. The look in his eyes is heartbreaking, because he blames us for causing this pain. We, his parents, who are supposed to protect him at all costs. And we've let him down. He doesn't know that it's for his own good. He doesn't know that it's going to make him better and stronger down the road. All he knows is that it hurts, and we are responsible for it.
It's the same when he bonks his little head, or any of the other myriad disasters that befall little ones. They take their first steps, and they fall. They accidentally grab something hot, and they get burned. Each and every little agony that happens makes them a bit stronger. They learn from it. I realize now as a parent I can't keep him from suffering the little things that life is going to hit him with. I also realize it's a bad idea to shield him from the everyday hurts of life. He can't become a strong person without pain. He can't learn to function in this world without pain. This is how we learn.
Basically, it sucks.
In a conversation with some friends the other day, the age-old question arose once again: if God loves us so much, why do we have to suffer? I can see that question in my son's eyes each time he's hurt. Why me? Why do I have to suffer this?
That's a very valid question, that actually puts the entire existence of God into some doubt. I'd be lying if I said it didn't cross my mind from time to time. Why in world do we suffer, if there's a God up there that can prevent it all from happening to us, if he cared to? Why doesn't he stop this? The hurt human cries out to God in these moments. Why did I have to suffer through the death of a parent, the car crash that paralyzed me, the burning down of my house, losing my job, the war that destroyed my village, the death of my spouse, the cancer, etc. The list goes on and on. Every single one of us has asked that question. And more than a few of us have decided that there can be no God, since if he existed he would not allow his loved ones to suffer so much. After all, what sort of loving Father could allow any harm at all to befall his children? The answer: one that loves them so much that he understands they have to make some pretty horrible mistakes in order to figure things out.
I think God has, in some ways, the same perspective that I have on the pain that my child has to go through. He knows why we're suffering this stuff. We have no idea. Is it possible that some of the evil that befalls us in this world is because we have a lesson to learn? That he's trying to put us where he wants us, in the frame of mind that he wants us in? Is whatever evil we're suffering the spiritual equivalent of a hot pan? We shouldn't have touched it in the first place. But we're damn sure not going to touch it again on purpose, are we?? Does he let us fall, only to learn some sort of lesson from it?
This is certainly a possibility. We can't even come close to fathoming the mind of a being that is mighty enough to create the universe. Our arrogance and pride allow us to think that we can get into his motivations, and get inside his head. We put things in our own framework, thinking that our experience and knowledge are the pinnacle of independent and rational thought in the universe.
If a being is capable of organizing molecules into something as complex as a human being, and capable of organizing a planet to support the life of a human, I know I'm not on the same level of thought. That's pretty humbling. I can't understand at this point anything that he's letting me suffer, any more than my son understands at this point why he's getting a painful shot. One day, he will. But he hasn't matured enough in his understanding of the world to figure that one out yet.
I would have never reached this conclusion without being a parent. Only after reaching this level am I able to even postulate this sort of hypothesis.
That's simply my view on the situation. It's a partial explanation. Nor do I think it's the entire explanation. However, it does explain quite a bit of the suffering that we go through. C.S. Lewis offers more (and much better written, I might add) explanations in his book, THE PROBLEM OF PAIN.
"I'm Moving Through Some Changes..."
Anybody recognize that song??
There haven't been many posts lately, and for that I apologize. However, when life starts to hit you with weird transitions, it makes it somewhat hard to write. That's sad, because these are the times where I really need to write the most, just to unload and make sense of all the stuff running thorugh my head.
The posts will dry up even further, I'm afraid. At least for awhile. Changes are taking place, and we'll have to see where it all goes from here.
So check back from time to time, I'll post as I can, when I can. Otherwise, it's been a pleasure.
There haven't been many posts lately, and for that I apologize. However, when life starts to hit you with weird transitions, it makes it somewhat hard to write. That's sad, because these are the times where I really need to write the most, just to unload and make sense of all the stuff running thorugh my head.
The posts will dry up even further, I'm afraid. At least for awhile. Changes are taking place, and we'll have to see where it all goes from here.
So check back from time to time, I'll post as I can, when I can. Otherwise, it's been a pleasure.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
A Legacy
Since the baby has come into our little world, the oddest things suddenly mean the world to me.
The kid's smile can break your heart. Watching him explore the world is simply the greatest thing I could ever imagine. Seeing him learn how to grab things, move around on his own, enjoy food, etc. It's all so brand-new to him, and all so fascinating. Little things like a blanket are hours of fun to him. At this point, he has no idea that anything bad is out there in the world. I love that, even though I hate the fact that one day he'll learn what a horrible world this can be. I'd give anything to shield him from the pain that's out there, even though I know that would almost be as bad as neglecting him.
Leaving something for him has become important for me. I want so badly to have left him something that he can point to (hopefully with pride) and say, "that's my daddy's, and he gave it to me."
I have no idea why this is so important to me, but it is. I guess I'm lucky that I have some things that I have used and enjoyed, and I hope that he will as well. I hope that some part of me will live on in his memories after I've gone.
I have my books, of course. If they weather the years, I hope that he gets some enjoyment from them.
I have my guitars. One of which was given to me by my parents, 20 years ago now. I hope that even if he doesn't play it, he can at least look at it and think fondly of me. Maybe he can pass them to his son, one day, if he doesn't get any use from them.
I have my guns, as well as a few in the safe that were given to me by my father. They mean a lot to me, just because of where they came from. A lot of them won't ever be shot. They serve no use at the moment, but I'd never get rid of them. I hope that my son will be able to appreciate them, and think about me every time that he handles one. He'll have some link to his family's past, and I think that's an important thing.
It all pales in importance in comparison to what I feel I need to teach him. That will be the real legacy, even beyond his genetic inheritance. I want him to be a man of God, of compassion, of strength, of character, and honor. I want to be able to carry him past the mistakes I've made. I can only hope and pray that he's a better man than I am, and all I can do is try and sew those seeds within him.
The kid's smile can break your heart. Watching him explore the world is simply the greatest thing I could ever imagine. Seeing him learn how to grab things, move around on his own, enjoy food, etc. It's all so brand-new to him, and all so fascinating. Little things like a blanket are hours of fun to him. At this point, he has no idea that anything bad is out there in the world. I love that, even though I hate the fact that one day he'll learn what a horrible world this can be. I'd give anything to shield him from the pain that's out there, even though I know that would almost be as bad as neglecting him.
Leaving something for him has become important for me. I want so badly to have left him something that he can point to (hopefully with pride) and say, "that's my daddy's, and he gave it to me."
I have no idea why this is so important to me, but it is. I guess I'm lucky that I have some things that I have used and enjoyed, and I hope that he will as well. I hope that some part of me will live on in his memories after I've gone.
I have my books, of course. If they weather the years, I hope that he gets some enjoyment from them.
I have my guitars. One of which was given to me by my parents, 20 years ago now. I hope that even if he doesn't play it, he can at least look at it and think fondly of me. Maybe he can pass them to his son, one day, if he doesn't get any use from them.
I have my guns, as well as a few in the safe that were given to me by my father. They mean a lot to me, just because of where they came from. A lot of them won't ever be shot. They serve no use at the moment, but I'd never get rid of them. I hope that my son will be able to appreciate them, and think about me every time that he handles one. He'll have some link to his family's past, and I think that's an important thing.
It all pales in importance in comparison to what I feel I need to teach him. That will be the real legacy, even beyond his genetic inheritance. I want him to be a man of God, of compassion, of strength, of character, and honor. I want to be able to carry him past the mistakes I've made. I can only hope and pray that he's a better man than I am, and all I can do is try and sew those seeds within him.
The End....
....of Harry Potter, that is.
I just finished HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS. All I can say is: wow.
I'll give you no spoilers. I hate people who give away book or movie endings, so I'm not going to be that guy.
I picked up this series several years ago, and I was simply amazed. Ms. Rowling created one of the greatest characters in literary history. Believe the hype; she wouldn't have gotten filthy rich unless she created something worthwhile.
The interesting thing about this series was how it got progressively better. Each book was better than the last. This character was one that the reader felt every inch of pain he felt. We felt his triumphs, and his many sorrows. We saw his petty fits of jealousy, and recognized our own in there. We saw him be a dumb kid, and realized that he was just like we were. This guy was as human as a fantasy wizard could possibly be.
The series was a hero's quest. All quests have to end eventually. All the mysteries had to be solved, all the loose ends had to tie up.
The problem again is how to resolve such a grand story arc. How does one bring something like that to a close without disappointing a legion of fans?
Well, she did it. Have no fear. The talent Ms. Rowling has is almost beyond belief. I almost get angry reading her stuff sometimes, because it's almost too good. NOBODY deserves to be able to write that well, to be able to drag somebody into a fictional work the way she did.
The series ended with a bang. And it ended exactly as it needed to. Simply amazing. Loyalty, love, sadness, life, death, pain, hope, and eternity; it's all there.
You can certainly do yourself a favor if you haven't read these books. They're all out there now. You don't have to wait years between the sequels like the rest of us shmucks. Ignore the movies and just read the books. See the movies much later, after you've had your own vision of what Harry Potter's world is like.
I really hate to see it all end. I'll never be graced with another Harry Potter adventure, and the world is a poorer place because of it. It's a bittersweet feeling I have at the moment.
I just finished HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS. All I can say is: wow.
I'll give you no spoilers. I hate people who give away book or movie endings, so I'm not going to be that guy.
I picked up this series several years ago, and I was simply amazed. Ms. Rowling created one of the greatest characters in literary history. Believe the hype; she wouldn't have gotten filthy rich unless she created something worthwhile.
The interesting thing about this series was how it got progressively better. Each book was better than the last. This character was one that the reader felt every inch of pain he felt. We felt his triumphs, and his many sorrows. We saw his petty fits of jealousy, and recognized our own in there. We saw him be a dumb kid, and realized that he was just like we were. This guy was as human as a fantasy wizard could possibly be.
The series was a hero's quest. All quests have to end eventually. All the mysteries had to be solved, all the loose ends had to tie up.
The problem again is how to resolve such a grand story arc. How does one bring something like that to a close without disappointing a legion of fans?
Well, she did it. Have no fear. The talent Ms. Rowling has is almost beyond belief. I almost get angry reading her stuff sometimes, because it's almost too good. NOBODY deserves to be able to write that well, to be able to drag somebody into a fictional work the way she did.
The series ended with a bang. And it ended exactly as it needed to. Simply amazing. Loyalty, love, sadness, life, death, pain, hope, and eternity; it's all there.
You can certainly do yourself a favor if you haven't read these books. They're all out there now. You don't have to wait years between the sequels like the rest of us shmucks. Ignore the movies and just read the books. See the movies much later, after you've had your own vision of what Harry Potter's world is like.
I really hate to see it all end. I'll never be graced with another Harry Potter adventure, and the world is a poorer place because of it. It's a bittersweet feeling I have at the moment.
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
The Police
Here's a quick concert review for you. Last week, I was fortunate enough to see one of my musical inspirations in concert. Yes, I saw the Police.
I'm somewhat of an anachronism. My favorite bands pretty much broke up before 1986. Given the fact that two of my favorite bands pretty much hated each other, I'd pretty much written off ever seeing the Eagles or the Police. Age and the almighty dollar mellowed out the Eagles enough they reformed, and I have been lucky enough to see them a few times since 1994's reunion: HELL FREEZES OVER.
I've written before about "Every Breath You Take" being the entire reason for me picking up a guitar. That's one of the greatest guitar licks of all time. "Message in a Bottle" is yet another inspirational lick of pure genius. Alas, I never imagined I'd get the chance to see the band that laid those tracks down.
Well, I guess I can die happy now. Last Wednesday's show was worth every bit of the three hour drive to see them, and the three hour drive back starting at 4:15a.m. to make it to docket call in court the next morning. Painful to be sure. I'm not as able to do that sort of thing as I was in my sleep-deprived youth. Nonetheless: wow. What a show.
Sting still has amazing pipes. He can still hit the screaming high notes, combined with one of the smoothest voices in his natural range that I've ever heard. What really gets me is the guy's 54 years old at this point, and he could easily pass as 20 years younger. He's still athletic as all get out. And he sang his guts out for two solid hours, with almost no break.
Andy Summers is darn near pushing 70. Yet his guitar work has done nothing but improved over the years. I've always felt he was a bit underrated as a guitarist, and that Sting maybe never quite let him play as he is capable of playing. He did some amazing stuff with the Police, but I always had the feeling there was even better stuff he had under his hat. He was one of the first players I ever heard who really used guitar effects in new and different ways.
Stewart Copeland is one of the greatest rock drummers ever. I'd be hard pressed to decide whether he or Neil Peart is the greatest, and I think convincing arguments can be made for both. Stewart may actually get the nod, simply because there's not many drummers out there who can actually claim to have composed an opera. That's worth something.
As a unit, I think they were better than they had any right to be. Almost 30 years of separation did nothing but mature them. They played their songs in new and different arrangements that were a joy to listen to. They were tight, no doubt about it. There were no backup singers, and no synthesizers. Just three guys playing their butts off. Andy covered all the stuff they used to play on keyboards on guitar, and it was brilliant.
The press has had a field day wondering how long they could hold it together. If what we saw on stage that night was genuine, they are going to be at it quite awhile longer. They looked like they were having a blast up there, and that's not easy to fake. I looked back at the Synchronicity video, and they really looked like they were struggling in comparison.
The show was only slightly marred by getting mauled by a drunk chick who sloshed onto our row. There's one in every crowd, I guess. Somebody had fun with her that night, if she managed to stay conscious. Fortunately, she sloshed off somewhere else relatively quickly. I still don't get how people find that sort of thing enjoyable.
I never thought I'd get to see the Police, and I'm pretty blessed to have the opportunity. I've seen some really good concerts in my time, being pretty much a live music junkie. This show topped them all. If you have the chance, I'd say this show is worth your while.
I'm somewhat of an anachronism. My favorite bands pretty much broke up before 1986. Given the fact that two of my favorite bands pretty much hated each other, I'd pretty much written off ever seeing the Eagles or the Police. Age and the almighty dollar mellowed out the Eagles enough they reformed, and I have been lucky enough to see them a few times since 1994's reunion: HELL FREEZES OVER.
I've written before about "Every Breath You Take" being the entire reason for me picking up a guitar. That's one of the greatest guitar licks of all time. "Message in a Bottle" is yet another inspirational lick of pure genius. Alas, I never imagined I'd get the chance to see the band that laid those tracks down.
Well, I guess I can die happy now. Last Wednesday's show was worth every bit of the three hour drive to see them, and the three hour drive back starting at 4:15a.m. to make it to docket call in court the next morning. Painful to be sure. I'm not as able to do that sort of thing as I was in my sleep-deprived youth. Nonetheless: wow. What a show.
Sting still has amazing pipes. He can still hit the screaming high notes, combined with one of the smoothest voices in his natural range that I've ever heard. What really gets me is the guy's 54 years old at this point, and he could easily pass as 20 years younger. He's still athletic as all get out. And he sang his guts out for two solid hours, with almost no break.
Andy Summers is darn near pushing 70. Yet his guitar work has done nothing but improved over the years. I've always felt he was a bit underrated as a guitarist, and that Sting maybe never quite let him play as he is capable of playing. He did some amazing stuff with the Police, but I always had the feeling there was even better stuff he had under his hat. He was one of the first players I ever heard who really used guitar effects in new and different ways.
Stewart Copeland is one of the greatest rock drummers ever. I'd be hard pressed to decide whether he or Neil Peart is the greatest, and I think convincing arguments can be made for both. Stewart may actually get the nod, simply because there's not many drummers out there who can actually claim to have composed an opera. That's worth something.
As a unit, I think they were better than they had any right to be. Almost 30 years of separation did nothing but mature them. They played their songs in new and different arrangements that were a joy to listen to. They were tight, no doubt about it. There were no backup singers, and no synthesizers. Just three guys playing their butts off. Andy covered all the stuff they used to play on keyboards on guitar, and it was brilliant.
The press has had a field day wondering how long they could hold it together. If what we saw on stage that night was genuine, they are going to be at it quite awhile longer. They looked like they were having a blast up there, and that's not easy to fake. I looked back at the Synchronicity video, and they really looked like they were struggling in comparison.
The show was only slightly marred by getting mauled by a drunk chick who sloshed onto our row. There's one in every crowd, I guess. Somebody had fun with her that night, if she managed to stay conscious. Fortunately, she sloshed off somewhere else relatively quickly. I still don't get how people find that sort of thing enjoyable.
I never thought I'd get to see the Police, and I'm pretty blessed to have the opportunity. I've seen some really good concerts in my time, being pretty much a live music junkie. This show topped them all. If you have the chance, I'd say this show is worth your while.
Laying It All On the Line
So what do you have that you would willingly die for?
I don't think I ever grasped how significant this postulation is. Quite simply: what is it that you would sacrifice it all for?
I think I understand this more now since the birth of my son. When I see him, so innocent and perfect, I know that I would die to protect him. I'd willingly sacrifice my entire existence for him. I'd jump in front of a bus, attack a grizzly bear, whatever. No questions, no hesitation, no remorse. Done.
If I think about harm coming to him, I see red. My heart pounds, and I can hardly stand it. My emotions get the best of me, and it brings a tear to my eye if I think about him suffering any sort of pain.
And it suddenly occurred to me: I would do anything in the world to keep him safe. I would gladly trade places to keep him from suffering any pain. If it was his life or mine, I'd give mine in an instant. It's not something that would require a moment's thought. It's a done deal.
Now I think about soldiers out there, willingly laying down their lives for their country, and our freedom and security. The cynical part of me wonders whether they know what they were getting in to. They willingly sign on for a job that will; in all likelihood, result in their death. Did they really grasp the concept of what it is they are risking, the cynical part of my brain asks.
I think they do. The perception of a hard, cruel killer, who blasts away with no remorse is perhaps the most unfair characterization of the military that the liberal media has ever painted. Sure, they have to kill. But they are just as much targets as shooters. That makes them a willing sacrifice for something they believe in. Something they feel called to do. Indeed, I think the essence of a solider is love.
Love is what calls them to duty, to risk everything for what it is they believe in. If my experience is any indication, there is nothing else in the world that would drive a man to lay down his life. In the end, it's all about love.
Now I picture Christ. What in the world could motivate a person to have the very flesh flayed from his back, to have a crown of thorns stuck into his head, to have nails driven through his bones, pinning him to a cross? We see in the Bible that he knew it was coming. He knew what waited for him. With all the power of Creation at his fingertips, he could have stopped it. He didn't have to go through with it. He could have walked away, and I don't think history could have judged him harshly for it. Our human experience could not fathom willingly taking on that sort of physical agony.
But there was a debt that had to be paid. The sin of humankind had to be washed away. The scales had to be balanced. Humanity couldn't carry that cross. So God took it upon himself. He made a part of himself to come to Earth, and pay that price. Why?
Love. He so loved us that he'd lay it all on the line for us. Like a soldier dying for what he believed and loved in. Like a parent who would gladly die, gladly trade places with a suffering child than to see them in torment.
I understand now. I never did before.
"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for another."
I don't think I ever grasped how significant this postulation is. Quite simply: what is it that you would sacrifice it all for?
I think I understand this more now since the birth of my son. When I see him, so innocent and perfect, I know that I would die to protect him. I'd willingly sacrifice my entire existence for him. I'd jump in front of a bus, attack a grizzly bear, whatever. No questions, no hesitation, no remorse. Done.
If I think about harm coming to him, I see red. My heart pounds, and I can hardly stand it. My emotions get the best of me, and it brings a tear to my eye if I think about him suffering any sort of pain.
And it suddenly occurred to me: I would do anything in the world to keep him safe. I would gladly trade places to keep him from suffering any pain. If it was his life or mine, I'd give mine in an instant. It's not something that would require a moment's thought. It's a done deal.
Now I think about soldiers out there, willingly laying down their lives for their country, and our freedom and security. The cynical part of me wonders whether they know what they were getting in to. They willingly sign on for a job that will; in all likelihood, result in their death. Did they really grasp the concept of what it is they are risking, the cynical part of my brain asks.
I think they do. The perception of a hard, cruel killer, who blasts away with no remorse is perhaps the most unfair characterization of the military that the liberal media has ever painted. Sure, they have to kill. But they are just as much targets as shooters. That makes them a willing sacrifice for something they believe in. Something they feel called to do. Indeed, I think the essence of a solider is love.
Love is what calls them to duty, to risk everything for what it is they believe in. If my experience is any indication, there is nothing else in the world that would drive a man to lay down his life. In the end, it's all about love.
Now I picture Christ. What in the world could motivate a person to have the very flesh flayed from his back, to have a crown of thorns stuck into his head, to have nails driven through his bones, pinning him to a cross? We see in the Bible that he knew it was coming. He knew what waited for him. With all the power of Creation at his fingertips, he could have stopped it. He didn't have to go through with it. He could have walked away, and I don't think history could have judged him harshly for it. Our human experience could not fathom willingly taking on that sort of physical agony.
But there was a debt that had to be paid. The sin of humankind had to be washed away. The scales had to be balanced. Humanity couldn't carry that cross. So God took it upon himself. He made a part of himself to come to Earth, and pay that price. Why?
Love. He so loved us that he'd lay it all on the line for us. Like a soldier dying for what he believed and loved in. Like a parent who would gladly die, gladly trade places with a suffering child than to see them in torment.
I understand now. I never did before.
"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for another."
Dearth Of Posts
Not intentional, but I just don't have much time anymore. A baby will do that to you, I guess. I'll post when I can, but it'll be sporadic at best. Such is life. I need to get back into the habit, simply to keep my writing chops honed, though.
Saturday, June 02, 2007
Food at Kincaid's
I grew up with a Dad who likes to try hole-in-the-wall restaurants in weird locations. I've been known to try a few myself, on occasion.
We found one that ought to win some awards. If nothing else, it deserves patronage because it's a small, family-owned business. I'm pretty well sick of chain eateries. I'm boycotting Chili's. Not because the food is bad or anything. It's just the same thing every time, in every city. Have you noticed the pictures are even the same in them? Pay close attention; I kid you not. I am just happy to see a privately owned eatery, and I'll spend my dollars there before I give it to some chain.
Out on Texas Highway 304, there's a little place called Kincaid's Steakhouse. It's in Rosanky, Texas, which is about halfway between Gonzales and Bastrop. It's literally a dot on the map, with nothing on the road but a gas station and a few small shops. From the road, Kincaid's looks like an old, small tin building. It is, in fact. It's the sort of place you'd pass up if you weren't getting a recommendation to go there, or you were somewhat adventurous.
On the inside, you'll find great Western decor, and one of the cleanest, neatest places to eat that I've ever come across. I don't think I observed a single crumb on the floor. The tables were immaculate. It was cheery and well-lit.
And the food, you ask? Cheap and delicious. There's not many places you can get a 12 ounce steak under $15 and not have it taste like tire rubber. Don't ask how I know what tire rubber tastes like. The steak was on a par with a four-star restaurant's beef. The owner informed me she drives every day to a small town butcher shop and picks up fresh steak. I'd say it was worth the trip.
The only downside to the place: no fountain Dr. Pepper. Oh well. Heaven will probably have a fountain Dr. Pepper machine, with Big Red as well when you want a change.
So if you're in the area, stop in. I don't think you'll be disappointed in the least.
We found one that ought to win some awards. If nothing else, it deserves patronage because it's a small, family-owned business. I'm pretty well sick of chain eateries. I'm boycotting Chili's. Not because the food is bad or anything. It's just the same thing every time, in every city. Have you noticed the pictures are even the same in them? Pay close attention; I kid you not. I am just happy to see a privately owned eatery, and I'll spend my dollars there before I give it to some chain.
Out on Texas Highway 304, there's a little place called Kincaid's Steakhouse. It's in Rosanky, Texas, which is about halfway between Gonzales and Bastrop. It's literally a dot on the map, with nothing on the road but a gas station and a few small shops. From the road, Kincaid's looks like an old, small tin building. It is, in fact. It's the sort of place you'd pass up if you weren't getting a recommendation to go there, or you were somewhat adventurous.
On the inside, you'll find great Western decor, and one of the cleanest, neatest places to eat that I've ever come across. I don't think I observed a single crumb on the floor. The tables were immaculate. It was cheery and well-lit.
And the food, you ask? Cheap and delicious. There's not many places you can get a 12 ounce steak under $15 and not have it taste like tire rubber. Don't ask how I know what tire rubber tastes like. The steak was on a par with a four-star restaurant's beef. The owner informed me she drives every day to a small town butcher shop and picks up fresh steak. I'd say it was worth the trip.
The only downside to the place: no fountain Dr. Pepper. Oh well. Heaven will probably have a fountain Dr. Pepper machine, with Big Red as well when you want a change.
So if you're in the area, stop in. I don't think you'll be disappointed in the least.
Friday, June 01, 2007
Brilliant....
Check out this from Michelle Malkin.
Pretty much sums up my feelings.
No fence, no security, no money, no Republican Party.
It just might have to be that way, before somebody gets the point.
Pretty much sums up my feelings.
No fence, no security, no money, no Republican Party.
It just might have to be that way, before somebody gets the point.
Monday, May 28, 2007
The Reply to Representative Chet Edwards' Form Email
Our local reps can't even get their form letters right. Here's my reply to their form reply..
Dear Representative Edwards:
Apparently one of Senator Kennedy's No Child Left Behind students has made it onto your staff, and is busy sending out form emails for you. This staffer is either completely rewriting the English language as we know it, or relying much too heavily on a spell-checking program.
There is an alternative explanation, of course. I do acknowledge the rules of grammatical construction have mutated somewhat in the years since I was taught them. This might be acceptable parlance in Washington these days.
Please note the highlighted grammatical error in your form email. You might have your staffers make a correction, unless this is how those in power are speaking these days. It is becoming apparent to me that the power elite do indeed speak a completely different language than those of us who are ruled by them. This may simply be another example.
Please accept this as a humble suggestion.
Yours in food faith (On the off-chance the Queen's English has been substantially altered),
Kyle*******
Constituent
Chet Edwards Reply wrote:
Dear Neighbor,
Thank you for contacting me about issues important to you. Understanding your views and priorities will help focus my work in Congress.
As your representative in the U.S. House, I am grateful to have the privilege of working for the families and citizens of the 17th District. By working together in food faith, I believe we can continue to ensure that America is strong, safe and free.
Thank you again for your thoughts and concerns. Please let me know if there is ever anything I can do for you.
Sincerely,
Chet Edwards
U.S. Representative
District 17
No commentary necessary, I think.....
Dear Representative Edwards:
Apparently one of Senator Kennedy's No Child Left Behind students has made it onto your staff, and is busy sending out form emails for you. This staffer is either completely rewriting the English language as we know it, or relying much too heavily on a spell-checking program.
There is an alternative explanation, of course. I do acknowledge the rules of grammatical construction have mutated somewhat in the years since I was taught them. This might be acceptable parlance in Washington these days.
Please note the highlighted grammatical error in your form email. You might have your staffers make a correction, unless this is how those in power are speaking these days. It is becoming apparent to me that the power elite do indeed speak a completely different language than those of us who are ruled by them. This may simply be another example.
Please accept this as a humble suggestion.
Yours in food faith (On the off-chance the Queen's English has been substantially altered),
Kyle*******
Constituent
Chet Edwards Reply
Dear Neighbor,
Thank you for contacting me about issues important to you. Understanding your views and priorities will help focus my work in Congress.
As your representative in the U.S. House, I am grateful to have the privilege of working for the families and citizens of the 17th District. By working together in food faith, I believe we can continue to ensure that America is strong, safe and free.
Thank you again for your thoughts and concerns. Please let me know if there is ever anything I can do for you.
Sincerely,
Chet Edwards
U.S. Representative
District 17
No commentary necessary, I think.....
Friday, May 11, 2007
Obedience
I posted awhile back on my inability to figure out why a criminal would commit a crime, when the punishment is so in excess of the reward. The comments section postulates a pretty good theory on this one, and I'd direct you to Hell in a Handbasket for further ruminations on the subject matter. It's a pretty darn good explanation.
I started to wonder about the laws our society has passed to govern behavior, and what good it ultimately all did. We are told by those who purport to govern us these laws are there to protect us from crime. Apparently, a large population of Texans (somewhere over 150,000 at the time of this writing are in prison. This doesn't count the ones locked up in jails.) are incarcerated. Obviously, the laws didn't do squat to prevent these criminals from doing whatever it is they did to get locked up. Why do we seem to think that passing more laws will make us any safer?
I am also of the opinion that a good law has some basis in a moral truth. A law against murder is fine and good, because it reflects an almost universal truth: killing without justification is wrong.
Obedience to a law based on a moral truth is pretty easy. We want to. There is something in our very nature that feels compelled to obey this sort of law, even if there weren't a law on the books to prevent it.
It's harder to obey laws that have no basis in moral truth. Requiring a business owner to hire only union employees does not appear to have any such basis. That sort of law becomes oppressive, because it appears to infringe upon a basic freedom. What business is it of the government's whom one hires to work their business?
A just law has a built in enforcement tool. Call it what you will: conscience, karma, moksha, the Holy Spirit, etc. There's something that most souls will respond to in a just law. There's a need to obey it. It strikes a chord within the soul, and something inside us resonates with the knowledge that we shouldn't do a certain act, or we should do another act. Why? Because it's the right thing to do.
James points out that a dog knows when it's screwed up. It hangs its head before you even begin the butt-chewing. While a dog learns what is right and wrong from its master, we have our souls to guide us. Not that people can't be twisted to confuse what is right and wrong, or that they can't choose to ignore it altogether. Again, there's far too many people in prison to suggest otherwise.
There's a fundamental sense of good and evil in all of us. Otherwise, repentance would never be possible under any circumstances. I've talked to far too many people who reveled in doing some pretty awful things. The ones who have managed to turn away from those things did so because eventually they were able to appreciate that what they were doing was wrong. They were able to be taught, and I don't think a man-made law caused them to have that revelation.
Perhaps the law did manage to open the door to repentance to these people. The point got through there were consequences for disobedience. We all know it's illegal to murder somebody. But recognizing that it's wrong irrespective of what the law says is something else entirely. There was no turning away from the bad stuff until they appreciated on a fundamental level their actions were wrong.
So it seems that obedience to the law because we fear the repercussions of the law is one thing. Obedience to the law because it's RIGHT is something else entirely.
I started to wonder about the laws our society has passed to govern behavior, and what good it ultimately all did. We are told by those who purport to govern us these laws are there to protect us from crime. Apparently, a large population of Texans (somewhere over 150,000 at the time of this writing are in prison. This doesn't count the ones locked up in jails.) are incarcerated. Obviously, the laws didn't do squat to prevent these criminals from doing whatever it is they did to get locked up. Why do we seem to think that passing more laws will make us any safer?
I am also of the opinion that a good law has some basis in a moral truth. A law against murder is fine and good, because it reflects an almost universal truth: killing without justification is wrong.
Obedience to a law based on a moral truth is pretty easy. We want to. There is something in our very nature that feels compelled to obey this sort of law, even if there weren't a law on the books to prevent it.
It's harder to obey laws that have no basis in moral truth. Requiring a business owner to hire only union employees does not appear to have any such basis. That sort of law becomes oppressive, because it appears to infringe upon a basic freedom. What business is it of the government's whom one hires to work their business?
A just law has a built in enforcement tool. Call it what you will: conscience, karma, moksha, the Holy Spirit, etc. There's something that most souls will respond to in a just law. There's a need to obey it. It strikes a chord within the soul, and something inside us resonates with the knowledge that we shouldn't do a certain act, or we should do another act. Why? Because it's the right thing to do.
James points out that a dog knows when it's screwed up. It hangs its head before you even begin the butt-chewing. While a dog learns what is right and wrong from its master, we have our souls to guide us. Not that people can't be twisted to confuse what is right and wrong, or that they can't choose to ignore it altogether. Again, there's far too many people in prison to suggest otherwise.
There's a fundamental sense of good and evil in all of us. Otherwise, repentance would never be possible under any circumstances. I've talked to far too many people who reveled in doing some pretty awful things. The ones who have managed to turn away from those things did so because eventually they were able to appreciate that what they were doing was wrong. They were able to be taught, and I don't think a man-made law caused them to have that revelation.
Perhaps the law did manage to open the door to repentance to these people. The point got through there were consequences for disobedience. We all know it's illegal to murder somebody. But recognizing that it's wrong irrespective of what the law says is something else entirely. There was no turning away from the bad stuff until they appreciated on a fundamental level their actions were wrong.
So it seems that obedience to the law because we fear the repercussions of the law is one thing. Obedience to the law because it's RIGHT is something else entirely.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Monumental
We'll have a Second Amendment case in front of the Supreme Court within a year.
Read this article.
I think it'll be 5-4, with Kennedy being the swing vote as usual. The liberals will say it's not a fundamental right, despite it being in the Bill of Rights, guaranteed to individuals. So this might actually make or break the right to own a gun in America. I've rather enjoyed the obscurity up to this point. Now, they might get to take them away.
From Townhall.com.
Read this article.
I think it'll be 5-4, with Kennedy being the swing vote as usual. The liberals will say it's not a fundamental right, despite it being in the Bill of Rights, guaranteed to individuals. So this might actually make or break the right to own a gun in America. I've rather enjoyed the obscurity up to this point. Now, they might get to take them away.
From Townhall.com.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Criminal Physics
Newton told us that every action has an equal, opposite reaction. If we do something, it has some sort of consequence hitting right back at us.
Take crime, for instance. Yes, it's possible to beat the living tar out of your neighbor. The consequence is jail, loss of freedom, loss of certain rights as citizens, etc.
The criminal element doesn't seem to care, much. I'm not sure if there's no actual conceptualization of the consequences, or if the consequences have been weighed carefully, and the risk is less than the reward.
That scares me. If life is so bad that going to jail is preferable to staying out of it, there's such misery in the world that I can't even wrap my mind around it. I just can't imagine life being so rotten that jail seems ok.
At the same time, I cannot imagine thinking that knocking over a convenience store is something that I can get away with. For starters, every major tv network has some sort of show that features stupid criminals getting caught on videotape. They have to get that footage somewhere, morons. There's also no loyalty in the criminal element. They'll sell each other out to keep from getting sent to jail, or on the promise of money. So the odds of getting caught are pretty high.
So why do it? Greed's the short answer, I suppose. It just doesn't seem enough to justify the risk of getting caught. Never mind the morality involved here. I'm presupposing that morals are a foregone conclusion with most of the criminal element. The risk/reward equation is all I'm focusing on here.
I can't afford a Mercedes, so I don't drive one. I can't afford a 5000 square foot home, so I don't live in one. I can't afford Armani suits, so I don't wear them. I couldn't afford spring break trips to Mexico, so I didn't go. I can't afford new cd's, so I don't buy them. In other words, I do without. My life is perfectly ok without those things. It really is. I wouldn't have said so at one point or another in my life, but it's true. Even in the midst of the worst possible stuff envy, it never seemed worth stealing over. Breaking into a house to steal something sure isn't worth it. Every household I know about has enough gun wielders in it to make that idea seem pretty dumb. Does that thought never cross the mind of a burglar? Has he decided that it's worth the risk, despite the risk of lead poisoning?
I can understand being so desperate to feed my child that I'd steal. But I also can't imagine a friend or family member not taking my child in to feed him, if things ever got that bad. Or the church, or distant relatives, or somebody. There's always an alternative, it seems.
I can't figure this one out at all. And I grow more puzzled every time I deal with people like this, which is daily.
Take crime, for instance. Yes, it's possible to beat the living tar out of your neighbor. The consequence is jail, loss of freedom, loss of certain rights as citizens, etc.
The criminal element doesn't seem to care, much. I'm not sure if there's no actual conceptualization of the consequences, or if the consequences have been weighed carefully, and the risk is less than the reward.
That scares me. If life is so bad that going to jail is preferable to staying out of it, there's such misery in the world that I can't even wrap my mind around it. I just can't imagine life being so rotten that jail seems ok.
At the same time, I cannot imagine thinking that knocking over a convenience store is something that I can get away with. For starters, every major tv network has some sort of show that features stupid criminals getting caught on videotape. They have to get that footage somewhere, morons. There's also no loyalty in the criminal element. They'll sell each other out to keep from getting sent to jail, or on the promise of money. So the odds of getting caught are pretty high.
So why do it? Greed's the short answer, I suppose. It just doesn't seem enough to justify the risk of getting caught. Never mind the morality involved here. I'm presupposing that morals are a foregone conclusion with most of the criminal element. The risk/reward equation is all I'm focusing on here.
I can't afford a Mercedes, so I don't drive one. I can't afford a 5000 square foot home, so I don't live in one. I can't afford Armani suits, so I don't wear them. I couldn't afford spring break trips to Mexico, so I didn't go. I can't afford new cd's, so I don't buy them. In other words, I do without. My life is perfectly ok without those things. It really is. I wouldn't have said so at one point or another in my life, but it's true. Even in the midst of the worst possible stuff envy, it never seemed worth stealing over. Breaking into a house to steal something sure isn't worth it. Every household I know about has enough gun wielders in it to make that idea seem pretty dumb. Does that thought never cross the mind of a burglar? Has he decided that it's worth the risk, despite the risk of lead poisoning?
I can understand being so desperate to feed my child that I'd steal. But I also can't imagine a friend or family member not taking my child in to feed him, if things ever got that bad. Or the church, or distant relatives, or somebody. There's always an alternative, it seems.
I can't figure this one out at all. And I grow more puzzled every time I deal with people like this, which is daily.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Forgiveness
This is a subject that I struggle with, and honestly don't do very well with. It's hard to make peace with someone who has wronged you. And yet, it's the right thing to do.
Taking any sort of philosophical reasoning for it out of the equation, forgiveness seems to promote self-healing. I've gone a long time winding myself up over slights, real or imagined. The funny thing is, it's hurting nobody but me.
Fortunately (or maybe unfortunately, depending on your point of view), I have not developed psychic powers that enable me to fry people with my mind. It's a good thing, because my negative thoughts would have probably reduced our population down quite a bit. So all these bad thoughts I have towards someone who's made me mad do nothing at all but give me ulcers. If it's not hurting them, and it's not helping me, why do it? When I think back on a couple of particular wrongs I've felt were inflicted on me, my blood pressure boils. My hands get shaky, my breathing gets quick. I can feel my stomach roil. And to what end? The people I'm mad at could care less. I'm not doing anything to help the situation. I'm just taking years off my life. I can't afford to do that anymore.
Best just to let it go. Doing that is a bit much, however. Realizing the futility of the anger is a good first step. It makes it a bit easier, though not much.
I've also learned to let my self-recrimination go a bit, as well. It's hard to move on in your life dwelling on mistakes made in the past. Better still just to move along. Learn from the mistake, but don't bog down thinking about it.
The Bible mentions not letting the sun go down on your anger, and that's some good, practical advice. I'm amazed at how much one's spiritual, physical, and mental health seem to walk hand in hand.
In the meanwhile, my neighbors and their all-night barking dog haven't been telepathically reduced to a smoking pile of ashes. This is a good thing for all concerned.
Taking any sort of philosophical reasoning for it out of the equation, forgiveness seems to promote self-healing. I've gone a long time winding myself up over slights, real or imagined. The funny thing is, it's hurting nobody but me.
Fortunately (or maybe unfortunately, depending on your point of view), I have not developed psychic powers that enable me to fry people with my mind. It's a good thing, because my negative thoughts would have probably reduced our population down quite a bit. So all these bad thoughts I have towards someone who's made me mad do nothing at all but give me ulcers. If it's not hurting them, and it's not helping me, why do it? When I think back on a couple of particular wrongs I've felt were inflicted on me, my blood pressure boils. My hands get shaky, my breathing gets quick. I can feel my stomach roil. And to what end? The people I'm mad at could care less. I'm not doing anything to help the situation. I'm just taking years off my life. I can't afford to do that anymore.
Best just to let it go. Doing that is a bit much, however. Realizing the futility of the anger is a good first step. It makes it a bit easier, though not much.
I've also learned to let my self-recrimination go a bit, as well. It's hard to move on in your life dwelling on mistakes made in the past. Better still just to move along. Learn from the mistake, but don't bog down thinking about it.
The Bible mentions not letting the sun go down on your anger, and that's some good, practical advice. I'm amazed at how much one's spiritual, physical, and mental health seem to walk hand in hand.
In the meanwhile, my neighbors and their all-night barking dog haven't been telepathically reduced to a smoking pile of ashes. This is a good thing for all concerned.
Friday, April 27, 2007
WTF???
From JUDICIAL WATCH, which is a great website:
"Border Patrol Agent Charged With Murder
Caving in to pressure from the Mexican government and relying on testimony of fellow illegal border crossers, prosecutors in one Arizona county have criminally charged a United States Border Patrol agent for shooting an aggressive illegal immigrant in the act of violating federal law.
Border Patrol agent Nicholas Corbett has actually been charged with first-degree murder for the January shooting of the illegal alien who was part of a group apprehended about a 150 yards north of the Mexico-Arizona border between Bisbee and Douglas. Corbett said the Mexican man, Francisco Javier Dominguez, became aggressive and attacked him with rocks after being detained.
Dominguez had illegally crossed into the U.S. with three others—his two brothers and a sister-in-law—who have become the prosecution’s main witnesses. Based on their testimony, Cochise County prosecutors say the shooting was not legally justified because Dominguez did not represent a threat when he was shot.
When the incident happened in mid January, the Mexican government immediately sent the United States a diplomatic note stating its “firm condemnation” and demanded a full investigation. Relatives in Mexico took the streets and demanded the agent involved be punished and brought to justice.
The head of the Arizona Chapter of the National Border Patrol Council says this case is part of a nationwide pattern of politically motivated prosecutions against Border Patrol agents. The theory doesn’t sound terribly far-fetched considering that, earlier this year, two Border Patrol agents went to prison for shooting an admitted Mexican drug smuggler caught bringing in 743 pounds of marijuana near El Paso Texas.
Federal prosecutors actually went into Mexico and offered the drug dealer—who was only shot in the buttocks--immunity to testify against the veteran agents who were subsequently convicted on charges of causing serious bodily injury, assault with a deadly weapon, discharge of a firearm and violating the drug smuggler’s civil rights."
We've lost the will to be a country, if we persecute those who defend us. I think they need to be shooting more of them, personally. It's interesting that Cochise County is where Tombstone is located. That county apparently loves to prosecute those who try to uphold the law, given what happened to the Earps and Doc Holliday after the OK Corral...
"Border Patrol Agent Charged With Murder
Caving in to pressure from the Mexican government and relying on testimony of fellow illegal border crossers, prosecutors in one Arizona county have criminally charged a United States Border Patrol agent for shooting an aggressive illegal immigrant in the act of violating federal law.
Border Patrol agent Nicholas Corbett has actually been charged with first-degree murder for the January shooting of the illegal alien who was part of a group apprehended about a 150 yards north of the Mexico-Arizona border between Bisbee and Douglas. Corbett said the Mexican man, Francisco Javier Dominguez, became aggressive and attacked him with rocks after being detained.
Dominguez had illegally crossed into the U.S. with three others—his two brothers and a sister-in-law—who have become the prosecution’s main witnesses. Based on their testimony, Cochise County prosecutors say the shooting was not legally justified because Dominguez did not represent a threat when he was shot.
When the incident happened in mid January, the Mexican government immediately sent the United States a diplomatic note stating its “firm condemnation” and demanded a full investigation. Relatives in Mexico took the streets and demanded the agent involved be punished and brought to justice.
The head of the Arizona Chapter of the National Border Patrol Council says this case is part of a nationwide pattern of politically motivated prosecutions against Border Patrol agents. The theory doesn’t sound terribly far-fetched considering that, earlier this year, two Border Patrol agents went to prison for shooting an admitted Mexican drug smuggler caught bringing in 743 pounds of marijuana near El Paso Texas.
Federal prosecutors actually went into Mexico and offered the drug dealer—who was only shot in the buttocks--immunity to testify against the veteran agents who were subsequently convicted on charges of causing serious bodily injury, assault with a deadly weapon, discharge of a firearm and violating the drug smuggler’s civil rights."
We've lost the will to be a country, if we persecute those who defend us. I think they need to be shooting more of them, personally. It's interesting that Cochise County is where Tombstone is located. That county apparently loves to prosecute those who try to uphold the law, given what happened to the Earps and Doc Holliday after the OK Corral...
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Comfortably Numb
While the rest of the world is applauding the new trends in downloadable music, I have to say that I have some trepidations about the whole thing. It has less to do with the technology and sound quality as it has to do with the imminent demise of the rock album.
Bear with me on this. The trend now is for people to pay for whatever song they want, and simply download it. They pay only for the song they want. This is all well and good for the consumer in one sense. They only have to pay for the song they want. This was the theory behind 45 rpm singles, way back when. It carried over into cassettes, and later into single cd's.
What's going to happen is that artists will focus more on singles, as opposed to albums. Let's face it: "Another Brick in the Wall Part II" is a catchy tune. However, the genius of the song comes in when you get its context with the rest of THE WALL. The song stands alone, but it's part of a much bigger whole. Same thing with "Eyes of a Stranger" off OPERATION MINDCRIME. Great song, but it's simply the capstone of a cool concept album.
I don't know if today's short-attention spanned obliviots will download a song, then buy the whole album. I think they're more likely just to download a catchy tune, and ignore the rest of the album. They'll remain comfortably numb to the cool stuff that lurks on the rest of the album. If you didn't buy the Van Halen album FAIR WARNING, you didn't catch "Hear About It Later," one of the band's better songs. You'll never hear that one on the radio. You'll also never hear "Bravado" off Rush's ROLL THE BONES. You won't hear "Holy Mother," off Eric Clapton's AUGUST. "Why Worry", off Dire Straits' BROTHERS IN ARMS is one of the best songs ever. I doubt anybody today would buy the whole album. They'd simply download "Money For Nothing", and go on with their lives, never hearing a gem like "Your Latest Trick." That's a loss.
You won't see albums like this in the future, I fear. The artists will pump out catchy singles to sell via the internet, and the albums as a whole might well suffer as a result. Cohesive, unifying songwriting for albums might well die off. I don't think it will vanish altogether. I just don't think an artist will sit down to write concept albums anymore as theri main focus.
That's a darn shame. Imagine life without Styx's "Kilroy Was Here." I shudder to think about it.
"Domo Arigato, Mr. Roboto."
Bear with me on this. The trend now is for people to pay for whatever song they want, and simply download it. They pay only for the song they want. This is all well and good for the consumer in one sense. They only have to pay for the song they want. This was the theory behind 45 rpm singles, way back when. It carried over into cassettes, and later into single cd's.
What's going to happen is that artists will focus more on singles, as opposed to albums. Let's face it: "Another Brick in the Wall Part II" is a catchy tune. However, the genius of the song comes in when you get its context with the rest of THE WALL. The song stands alone, but it's part of a much bigger whole. Same thing with "Eyes of a Stranger" off OPERATION MINDCRIME. Great song, but it's simply the capstone of a cool concept album.
I don't know if today's short-attention spanned obliviots will download a song, then buy the whole album. I think they're more likely just to download a catchy tune, and ignore the rest of the album. They'll remain comfortably numb to the cool stuff that lurks on the rest of the album. If you didn't buy the Van Halen album FAIR WARNING, you didn't catch "Hear About It Later," one of the band's better songs. You'll never hear that one on the radio. You'll also never hear "Bravado" off Rush's ROLL THE BONES. You won't hear "Holy Mother," off Eric Clapton's AUGUST. "Why Worry", off Dire Straits' BROTHERS IN ARMS is one of the best songs ever. I doubt anybody today would buy the whole album. They'd simply download "Money For Nothing", and go on with their lives, never hearing a gem like "Your Latest Trick." That's a loss.
You won't see albums like this in the future, I fear. The artists will pump out catchy singles to sell via the internet, and the albums as a whole might well suffer as a result. Cohesive, unifying songwriting for albums might well die off. I don't think it will vanish altogether. I just don't think an artist will sit down to write concept albums anymore as theri main focus.
That's a darn shame. Imagine life without Styx's "Kilroy Was Here." I shudder to think about it.
"Domo Arigato, Mr. Roboto."
Thursday, April 19, 2007
St. Anger
I'm still not sure that I actually picked the right career. I'm a prosecutor now, and it's absolutely true that I enjoy this job more than anything else in the practice of law. I can safely say that I will never go back to private practice again.
However, I still have to deal with liars and the bigger liars that represent them.
Attorneys are, as a breed; scumbags. There are individuals that are ok. But as a whole, this is a reprehensible profession, filled with reprehensible people who think they have to win at all costs. Even if that means telling a flat-out lie to get an acquittal for a client, or screwing over somebody to win.
I don't like this. I don't operate that way, and I get really resentful when it happens to me. Even though I shouldn't. I know what this breed is like, and I make the mistake time after time of letting down my guard. I constantly get fooled into believing they are not all like that. And I'm proven wrong more often than not.
Here's where the hard part of being a follower of Christ comes in. I have to let this sort of thing go, or it will tear me up forever more. It's not in the least bothering the person that did it.
This is where the limits of human flesh come into play. I can't do it. I've got to turn it over to God. And it's hard to turn loose of this anger and resentment. But I have to. I've got to turn the other cheek. And the only way to do that is pass it off to somebody whose kindness, mercy, wisdom, and power far exceed mine. Personally, I'd like to drag this lawyer over carpet tacks and dip him in rubbing alcohol.
So it's in the Almighty's hands at this point. Mine would strangle.
Tomorrow's another day, though. One of my favorite literary characters has two red arrows tattooed on each deltoid, pointing forward. His point in doing that was to remind himself to keep pressing forward, and never look back. That's what has to happen here, as well.
However, I still have to deal with liars and the bigger liars that represent them.
Attorneys are, as a breed; scumbags. There are individuals that are ok. But as a whole, this is a reprehensible profession, filled with reprehensible people who think they have to win at all costs. Even if that means telling a flat-out lie to get an acquittal for a client, or screwing over somebody to win.
I don't like this. I don't operate that way, and I get really resentful when it happens to me. Even though I shouldn't. I know what this breed is like, and I make the mistake time after time of letting down my guard. I constantly get fooled into believing they are not all like that. And I'm proven wrong more often than not.
Here's where the hard part of being a follower of Christ comes in. I have to let this sort of thing go, or it will tear me up forever more. It's not in the least bothering the person that did it.
This is where the limits of human flesh come into play. I can't do it. I've got to turn it over to God. And it's hard to turn loose of this anger and resentment. But I have to. I've got to turn the other cheek. And the only way to do that is pass it off to somebody whose kindness, mercy, wisdom, and power far exceed mine. Personally, I'd like to drag this lawyer over carpet tacks and dip him in rubbing alcohol.
So it's in the Almighty's hands at this point. Mine would strangle.
Tomorrow's another day, though. One of my favorite literary characters has two red arrows tattooed on each deltoid, pointing forward. His point in doing that was to remind himself to keep pressing forward, and never look back. That's what has to happen here, as well.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
No Further Proof Necessary
The horrible tragedy that occurred at Virginia Tech underscored a point that I've been making: evil exists. The term "insanity" doesn't even begin to cover the depth of this horror. We have to turn to a much more powerful word to sum this up: evil.
You've only to look at this psycho's rambling manifesto to see pure evil shining from his eyes. It is a glimpse into hell itself. It frightens me to no end.
I cannot fathom what would possess a person to execute 30+ people. I don't think any sane person can.
Listening to his ramblings, it is obvious that he was convinced that he was some sort of hero for doing this. I've noticed that evil has a way of justifying itself. I'm sure this demon never thought he was evil. Indeed, in his twisted mind, this was the act of a noble warrior. What he was fighting, I have no idea. It almost lends some credibility to the assertion that some insanity is demonic possession. Looking into his eyes as the video rolled, I can believe in demons.
What he has managed to do is terrify a nation, and provide additional fodder to the anti-Second Amendment crowd. He linked himself to Jesus, and that's going to also provide ammunition to the anti-deists.
I submit a point: I don't think this soul ever knew Christ, other than a passing acquaintance with a few stories. Neither here nor there; however.
My prayers go out to the families, students, and friends of Virginia Tech. And I pray the rest of the country makes it through as well.
You've only to look at this psycho's rambling manifesto to see pure evil shining from his eyes. It is a glimpse into hell itself. It frightens me to no end.
I cannot fathom what would possess a person to execute 30+ people. I don't think any sane person can.
Listening to his ramblings, it is obvious that he was convinced that he was some sort of hero for doing this. I've noticed that evil has a way of justifying itself. I'm sure this demon never thought he was evil. Indeed, in his twisted mind, this was the act of a noble warrior. What he was fighting, I have no idea. It almost lends some credibility to the assertion that some insanity is demonic possession. Looking into his eyes as the video rolled, I can believe in demons.
What he has managed to do is terrify a nation, and provide additional fodder to the anti-Second Amendment crowd. He linked himself to Jesus, and that's going to also provide ammunition to the anti-deists.
I submit a point: I don't think this soul ever knew Christ, other than a passing acquaintance with a few stories. Neither here nor there; however.
My prayers go out to the families, students, and friends of Virginia Tech. And I pray the rest of the country makes it through as well.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Kiss My Bass
One of the great things that's happened in the last few months has been the chance that I've had to play music again.
I had a burning desire to play a guitar after hearing Andy Summers' lick on "Every Breath You Take." Some kids hear Eddie Van Halen and have to learn how to play. My initial hook was the Police. Anyways, I ended up playing guitar. I graduated to heavier stuff eventually. However, I still get that little thrill when Andy starts that clean, arpeggiating riff on the radio.
Most of the bands I gravitated towards had great bass players and drummers. The Police, Genesis, and Rush were what I usually listened to growing up. I always sort of liked the bass, but never could afford to pick one up. I had a Fender Stratocaster, and that had to serve me for a long while.
About a year ago, I traded a Glock I absolutely hated for a nice Carvin 5 string bass. I noodled around on it a bit, but was never really serious.
Recently, I volunteered to play with our church band. They needed a bass player, and I happened to have both a pulse and a bass. Easiest audition ever. So I got the job. This is despite no training whatsoever on the bass, mind you. Just a lot of Geddy Lee and Sting's subliminal influence, since I'd never actually messed with bass guitar before.
If you've never played rock with another group of people, you have missed out on one of the most fulfilling experiences a person can have. I wouldn't just limit it to rock. I'd say that jamming with any band, on any sort of music, is almost a mystical experience.
However, I sucked at bass playing. The sense of melody is there, the feel is there. The ear is there. The physical ability wasn't. I wasn't a bad guitarist. But I was a horrible bass player. That was an alien instrument, coming from years of guitar.
One of the great things about playing with this group is that we have a ton of talented musicians there. They are also Christian, which means they haven't acted on the impulse to kill me when I really screw up. Which is often.
There is hope. I think I've improved dramatically with practice and guidance from the other players. I tend to get better at something when thrown in with people who really know what they are doing.
I even think that I've been able to add something to the group. I tend to gravitate towards rock music. There's just something visceral in that sort of music. It draws responses from people like no other type of music.
I'm sorry, but they hymns we grew up with in church suck. I bet church hymns have created more atheists than anything else. Listen to 90% of what's in the Methodist hymnal and you are convinced that God is punishing you for something, or he had nothing to do with this music at all. I don't think most people my age respond well to that sort of music.
However, crank up a distorted guitar, a driving bass, and a pounding drum beat, and there's something that I respond to. I think most people probably do. If you doubt me, go crank up AC/DC's "Shook Me All Night Long," and see if you don't start tapping along to the drum beat. See if Queen's "Another One Bites the Dust" doesn't get you humming along. That's stuff that people respond to. "Enter Sandman," doesn't make you pound the steering wheel when it comes on in the car? I bet it does. Quit feeling guilty about it.
There's some darn hard Christian music out there. I had no idea. Some of it's actually quite good. Some of it resembles the South Park episode where Cartman starts a Christian band. (Watch it on Youtube. That's funny; I don't care what church you go to. It's funny because it's absolutely dead-on.)
Anyway, we played a pretty rock-ish set last Sunday, and the response was great. The audience really enjoyed it. Our pastor was ecstatic. He's a Led Zepplin fan, and plays a darn good guitar himself. He's been wanting to hear something like this for quite awhile.
I'm having fun with it. Christian music ain't just for wussies, I'm discovering.
And you so-called Christians who think rock is the devil's music? Kiss my bass. I mean that in the most loving, forgiving sense, of course.
I had a burning desire to play a guitar after hearing Andy Summers' lick on "Every Breath You Take." Some kids hear Eddie Van Halen and have to learn how to play. My initial hook was the Police. Anyways, I ended up playing guitar. I graduated to heavier stuff eventually. However, I still get that little thrill when Andy starts that clean, arpeggiating riff on the radio.
Most of the bands I gravitated towards had great bass players and drummers. The Police, Genesis, and Rush were what I usually listened to growing up. I always sort of liked the bass, but never could afford to pick one up. I had a Fender Stratocaster, and that had to serve me for a long while.
About a year ago, I traded a Glock I absolutely hated for a nice Carvin 5 string bass. I noodled around on it a bit, but was never really serious.
Recently, I volunteered to play with our church band. They needed a bass player, and I happened to have both a pulse and a bass. Easiest audition ever. So I got the job. This is despite no training whatsoever on the bass, mind you. Just a lot of Geddy Lee and Sting's subliminal influence, since I'd never actually messed with bass guitar before.
If you've never played rock with another group of people, you have missed out on one of the most fulfilling experiences a person can have. I wouldn't just limit it to rock. I'd say that jamming with any band, on any sort of music, is almost a mystical experience.
However, I sucked at bass playing. The sense of melody is there, the feel is there. The ear is there. The physical ability wasn't. I wasn't a bad guitarist. But I was a horrible bass player. That was an alien instrument, coming from years of guitar.
One of the great things about playing with this group is that we have a ton of talented musicians there. They are also Christian, which means they haven't acted on the impulse to kill me when I really screw up. Which is often.
There is hope. I think I've improved dramatically with practice and guidance from the other players. I tend to get better at something when thrown in with people who really know what they are doing.
I even think that I've been able to add something to the group. I tend to gravitate towards rock music. There's just something visceral in that sort of music. It draws responses from people like no other type of music.
I'm sorry, but they hymns we grew up with in church suck. I bet church hymns have created more atheists than anything else. Listen to 90% of what's in the Methodist hymnal and you are convinced that God is punishing you for something, or he had nothing to do with this music at all. I don't think most people my age respond well to that sort of music.
However, crank up a distorted guitar, a driving bass, and a pounding drum beat, and there's something that I respond to. I think most people probably do. If you doubt me, go crank up AC/DC's "Shook Me All Night Long," and see if you don't start tapping along to the drum beat. See if Queen's "Another One Bites the Dust" doesn't get you humming along. That's stuff that people respond to. "Enter Sandman," doesn't make you pound the steering wheel when it comes on in the car? I bet it does. Quit feeling guilty about it.
There's some darn hard Christian music out there. I had no idea. Some of it's actually quite good. Some of it resembles the South Park episode where Cartman starts a Christian band. (Watch it on Youtube. That's funny; I don't care what church you go to. It's funny because it's absolutely dead-on.)
Anyway, we played a pretty rock-ish set last Sunday, and the response was great. The audience really enjoyed it. Our pastor was ecstatic. He's a Led Zepplin fan, and plays a darn good guitar himself. He's been wanting to hear something like this for quite awhile.
I'm having fun with it. Christian music ain't just for wussies, I'm discovering.
And you so-called Christians who think rock is the devil's music? Kiss my bass. I mean that in the most loving, forgiving sense, of course.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Stupid Gun Stuff
I pride myself on being fairly safe with firearms. Every once in awhile, I have to be reminded of basic safety things.
One thing that was drilled into my head as a kid was not to shoot rocks. Bad idea. They cause ricochets. Ricochets are a bad thing. I forgot this little lesson, and paid the price.
Easter Sunday, my brother-in-law and I decide we are going to shoot a bit. I had a box of .45's for the occasion, and we set down to doing some shooting. Targets usually aren't a problem, and normally I'll shoot cactus leaves. They make great targets, and you can see a hit immediately.
At any rate, there were a few sacks of concrete laying about, that had gotten wet. Which means they are actually concrete, and not sand anymore. My brother-in-law, who is about as good a gun person as I've ever seen, decided to shoot at a bag of this stuff.
So we did. The USP handled about as well as any pistol could ask. We were making hits from about 40 yards out, pretty much in the center mass.
I had run through about five rounds, when I suddenly felt an extremely hard blow on the left side of my nose. I thought somebody had snuck around to my left side and punched me in the head. My eye teared up. My hand came away wet with blood. I couldn't figure out what had happened. It actually drove me to my knees.
My mind was trying piece this thing together. I was running the whole thing back through my head, trying to make sense of it. It's hard to do after a blow to the head. I remembered hearing something hit the ground next to me. I looked, and a huge chunk of lead was laying there.
That's when it clicked. I had been hit upside the head by a ricochet. The bag was sitting at around a 45 degree angle. The slug hit the concrete, traveled up the bag into the air with most of its velocity spent. The angle was enough to lob it back towards us, and it had hit me as it fell back to earth. The proof was right next to me. I picked the smashed slug up and staggered back into the house.
An inch more and to the left would have put the slug into my eye. It wasn't traveling fast enough to kill me, but it was darn sure fast enough and big enough to have knocked my eye out.
And it hurt. It hit me as hard as a punch, and cut my nose pretty well. It was sore for a week, and the cut took awhile to heal.
So don't shoot rocks or concrete. Ever. You'd have thought I was smart enough not to go along with something like this.
The next mistake came a few rounds later. We had a case of Wolf ammunition. Another bad idea. Basically, a round was overcharged and blew up the cartridge. This completely ended shooting for the day.
I'm happy to report the gun suffered no permanent damage from the event, says the gunsmith. Wolf ammunition is a bad idea, period. If the steel casing doesn't split under pressure, the gunk they pack the bullets in will gum up your barrel, or won't eject properly.
Factory ammunition by a reputable manufacturer is about the only thing I'm ever going to put through a gun again.
The lessons: don't shoot rocks or concrete. Second, use decent factory ammunition. Third, wear shooting glasses. Had that round hit just a bit higher, I'd join the ranks of the disfigured and handicapped. Glasses would have probably saved my eye.
Learn from my stupidity, shooters. I certainly did.
One thing that was drilled into my head as a kid was not to shoot rocks. Bad idea. They cause ricochets. Ricochets are a bad thing. I forgot this little lesson, and paid the price.
Easter Sunday, my brother-in-law and I decide we are going to shoot a bit. I had a box of .45's for the occasion, and we set down to doing some shooting. Targets usually aren't a problem, and normally I'll shoot cactus leaves. They make great targets, and you can see a hit immediately.
At any rate, there were a few sacks of concrete laying about, that had gotten wet. Which means they are actually concrete, and not sand anymore. My brother-in-law, who is about as good a gun person as I've ever seen, decided to shoot at a bag of this stuff.
So we did. The USP handled about as well as any pistol could ask. We were making hits from about 40 yards out, pretty much in the center mass.
I had run through about five rounds, when I suddenly felt an extremely hard blow on the left side of my nose. I thought somebody had snuck around to my left side and punched me in the head. My eye teared up. My hand came away wet with blood. I couldn't figure out what had happened. It actually drove me to my knees.
My mind was trying piece this thing together. I was running the whole thing back through my head, trying to make sense of it. It's hard to do after a blow to the head. I remembered hearing something hit the ground next to me. I looked, and a huge chunk of lead was laying there.
That's when it clicked. I had been hit upside the head by a ricochet. The bag was sitting at around a 45 degree angle. The slug hit the concrete, traveled up the bag into the air with most of its velocity spent. The angle was enough to lob it back towards us, and it had hit me as it fell back to earth. The proof was right next to me. I picked the smashed slug up and staggered back into the house.
An inch more and to the left would have put the slug into my eye. It wasn't traveling fast enough to kill me, but it was darn sure fast enough and big enough to have knocked my eye out.
And it hurt. It hit me as hard as a punch, and cut my nose pretty well. It was sore for a week, and the cut took awhile to heal.
So don't shoot rocks or concrete. Ever. You'd have thought I was smart enough not to go along with something like this.
The next mistake came a few rounds later. We had a case of Wolf ammunition. Another bad idea. Basically, a round was overcharged and blew up the cartridge. This completely ended shooting for the day.
I'm happy to report the gun suffered no permanent damage from the event, says the gunsmith. Wolf ammunition is a bad idea, period. If the steel casing doesn't split under pressure, the gunk they pack the bullets in will gum up your barrel, or won't eject properly.
Factory ammunition by a reputable manufacturer is about the only thing I'm ever going to put through a gun again.
The lessons: don't shoot rocks or concrete. Second, use decent factory ammunition. Third, wear shooting glasses. Had that round hit just a bit higher, I'd join the ranks of the disfigured and handicapped. Glasses would have probably saved my eye.
Learn from my stupidity, shooters. I certainly did.
A Longer Absence
Every once in a awhile, a hiatus from writing is imposed upon me. In this particular case, it's a combination of being way too busy, some healing time, more personal crises, and no motivation whatsoever to write anything. I had some major life crises to deal with. I can't promise that I'm going to be back as faithfully as I was when I first came online, but we'll just see what develops. Especially in light of the new family crisis. More on that in a bit.
As to the content: this blog has always been my personal catharsis. I write for my own sanity. And I think a total of three people actually read this thing, and I think they will forgive me for the layoff, and the content.
The bulk of the layoff has been spending time with our infant son. It's amazing how much you can love something that screams, cries, soils itself, and requires constant attention. I can safely say that I never really imagined I'd enjoy being a father. Now that I'm in it, I am sorry that I waited this long to have a child. Nothing in the world can actually sum this experience up, so I won't even attempt to quantify it. It's sufficient for me to say that I want to spend every waking moment I can with my son, and that's to the detriment of exercise, reading, writing, and pretty much anything else I do on a regular basis.
The new job has occupied quite a bit of time. It's weird, but I think I've finally found something that I like to do which involves the practice of law. I'm a prosecutor now, and I think this is what I was supposed to be doing all along. I have the power to see justice done, and that's a rewarding thing unto itself. That's the subject of an entire week's worth of posting, in and of itself. Suffice to say, I actually have a job that I like going to every morning. I cannot overemphasize this has never happened up until now. I HATED being a lawyer, and I can say that most of the rest of the profession is evil incarnate, after exposure to it.
I think I became sidetracked right out of law school. All I wanted to do was criminal law. That's what I focused on. Somehow or another, I started working out of law school in the civil field. Once you get trapped in a particular field, it's fairly tough to get out of it. You gain experience in one area, and people want to hire you in that area. Thus, I trapped myself. I've written before about selling out to money as opposed to doing something you love, and this has done nothing but re-enforce that particular lesson. I've had a great track record so far in this job, and I daresay I'm actually good at it. I wasn't in the other fields that I've worked in. I think it was simply because I hated what I was doing. No more.
At any rate, a new personal crisis has reared its head. It's something most Americans deal with in their families at some point or another, but now it's here in my family. I speak of course, of the Big C. Cancer. My mother has it. It's inoperable. It's pretty bad.
Those that know my mother are thinking this is not a shock. She has been, and remains, at least a 3 pack per day smoker. That's pretty heavy, especially considering she's nearing 70. It's apparently been a shock to her, which I can well imagine. It's much like looking at your birth certificate, and finding an expiration date. We all know that we're going to die. It's just not something I think one can grasp until something like this comes up.
Along those same lines: we all intellectually know that smoking causes cancer. There's too much evidence to the contrary. Hell, even the tobacco companies will tell you that it does. Again, it's one of those things where you don't think it will actually happen to you, until it happens to you. Even now, my mother and father refuse to accept that smoking did this to them. "Lots of people die from lung cancer that have never smoked," they say. Very true. However, the particular type she has is ONLY caused by smoking. Nothing else. (Well, actually you could drink about 70 gallons of a certain kind of pesticide and theoretically cause it in mice, but I kinda doubt that was the deciding factor in this case.) And all those other people they mention? It might shock them to learn their cancers were probably caused by second-hand smoke.
I don't mean to turn this into a diatribe against smoking. If you want to, more power to you. I am now having pretty serious problems about those who inflict it on others, and scream their rights are being violated when they can't smoke in a restaurant anymore. Poison yourself at home. You don't have the right to kill everyone else around you, though. I am now faced with the possibility that I might develop this disease, and I've never smoked. My parents inflicted it on me, making me ride with the windows closed as they both puffed away, smoking in the house, etc. They so far have refused to accept they have done anything detrimental to my health.
Your outlook on certain things changes a bit when you have a child. At least, mine did. The question: now that we have concrete evidence of what smoking does, should we expose my son to it, just to save hurt feelings?
We have now created a problem in the family. My mother and father refuse to quit smoking. Period. The doctors have told her this will mean any treatment will be ineffective. Guess what that means?
I am downright evil if I expose my infant, innocent son to the smoke. It's real now. We KNOW what the smoking will do, because we now see concrete proof. So I'm not going to expose my child to it any more. I'm not trying to prevent my parents from seeing their grandchild. I love them. I will do whatever is necessary to help in this crisis. I'm unabashedly furious that my parents would do anything to cut short their time on earth with their children and grandchildren. But that doesn't mean I will stay away. I can't stay away. That would be even more wrong. I'm simply going to stay with other relatives while I'm home, and minimize my son's exposure to that which might kill him. I can't imagine a parent doing anything else.
Well, when we moved down the road to the relatives' house for the duration of the visit this weekend, my mother pitched a fit. So did my father, despite my efforts to not make a big deal about it. They see this decision as a slap in their face. It was never intended to be that at all. I feel I cannot dictate what they do in their own home. I can't ask them to stop smoking anymore. That's caused more fights than anything in our history.
The last thing I wanted to do was cause my mother any additional pain during this period, but what else was I to do? What else CAN I do? Am I evil for not staying with my parents when we visit? Is it not more evil to expose an innocent baby; who cannot make decisions or take care of himself, to a smoky house?
I don't know. I know I've made the decision. I've caused trouble that I never meant to cause. I've upset a very ill person and caused more stress, which is the last thing she needed. And I'm made to feel guilty about the decision. So am I right or wrong?
Anyway, that's the reason for the layoff. Sorry for those 3 of you who actually read this stupid thing.
As to the content: this blog has always been my personal catharsis. I write for my own sanity. And I think a total of three people actually read this thing, and I think they will forgive me for the layoff, and the content.
The bulk of the layoff has been spending time with our infant son. It's amazing how much you can love something that screams, cries, soils itself, and requires constant attention. I can safely say that I never really imagined I'd enjoy being a father. Now that I'm in it, I am sorry that I waited this long to have a child. Nothing in the world can actually sum this experience up, so I won't even attempt to quantify it. It's sufficient for me to say that I want to spend every waking moment I can with my son, and that's to the detriment of exercise, reading, writing, and pretty much anything else I do on a regular basis.
The new job has occupied quite a bit of time. It's weird, but I think I've finally found something that I like to do which involves the practice of law. I'm a prosecutor now, and I think this is what I was supposed to be doing all along. I have the power to see justice done, and that's a rewarding thing unto itself. That's the subject of an entire week's worth of posting, in and of itself. Suffice to say, I actually have a job that I like going to every morning. I cannot overemphasize this has never happened up until now. I HATED being a lawyer, and I can say that most of the rest of the profession is evil incarnate, after exposure to it.
I think I became sidetracked right out of law school. All I wanted to do was criminal law. That's what I focused on. Somehow or another, I started working out of law school in the civil field. Once you get trapped in a particular field, it's fairly tough to get out of it. You gain experience in one area, and people want to hire you in that area. Thus, I trapped myself. I've written before about selling out to money as opposed to doing something you love, and this has done nothing but re-enforce that particular lesson. I've had a great track record so far in this job, and I daresay I'm actually good at it. I wasn't in the other fields that I've worked in. I think it was simply because I hated what I was doing. No more.
At any rate, a new personal crisis has reared its head. It's something most Americans deal with in their families at some point or another, but now it's here in my family. I speak of course, of the Big C. Cancer. My mother has it. It's inoperable. It's pretty bad.
Those that know my mother are thinking this is not a shock. She has been, and remains, at least a 3 pack per day smoker. That's pretty heavy, especially considering she's nearing 70. It's apparently been a shock to her, which I can well imagine. It's much like looking at your birth certificate, and finding an expiration date. We all know that we're going to die. It's just not something I think one can grasp until something like this comes up.
Along those same lines: we all intellectually know that smoking causes cancer. There's too much evidence to the contrary. Hell, even the tobacco companies will tell you that it does. Again, it's one of those things where you don't think it will actually happen to you, until it happens to you. Even now, my mother and father refuse to accept that smoking did this to them. "Lots of people die from lung cancer that have never smoked," they say. Very true. However, the particular type she has is ONLY caused by smoking. Nothing else. (Well, actually you could drink about 70 gallons of a certain kind of pesticide and theoretically cause it in mice, but I kinda doubt that was the deciding factor in this case.) And all those other people they mention? It might shock them to learn their cancers were probably caused by second-hand smoke.
I don't mean to turn this into a diatribe against smoking. If you want to, more power to you. I am now having pretty serious problems about those who inflict it on others, and scream their rights are being violated when they can't smoke in a restaurant anymore. Poison yourself at home. You don't have the right to kill everyone else around you, though. I am now faced with the possibility that I might develop this disease, and I've never smoked. My parents inflicted it on me, making me ride with the windows closed as they both puffed away, smoking in the house, etc. They so far have refused to accept they have done anything detrimental to my health.
Your outlook on certain things changes a bit when you have a child. At least, mine did. The question: now that we have concrete evidence of what smoking does, should we expose my son to it, just to save hurt feelings?
We have now created a problem in the family. My mother and father refuse to quit smoking. Period. The doctors have told her this will mean any treatment will be ineffective. Guess what that means?
I am downright evil if I expose my infant, innocent son to the smoke. It's real now. We KNOW what the smoking will do, because we now see concrete proof. So I'm not going to expose my child to it any more. I'm not trying to prevent my parents from seeing their grandchild. I love them. I will do whatever is necessary to help in this crisis. I'm unabashedly furious that my parents would do anything to cut short their time on earth with their children and grandchildren. But that doesn't mean I will stay away. I can't stay away. That would be even more wrong. I'm simply going to stay with other relatives while I'm home, and minimize my son's exposure to that which might kill him. I can't imagine a parent doing anything else.
Well, when we moved down the road to the relatives' house for the duration of the visit this weekend, my mother pitched a fit. So did my father, despite my efforts to not make a big deal about it. They see this decision as a slap in their face. It was never intended to be that at all. I feel I cannot dictate what they do in their own home. I can't ask them to stop smoking anymore. That's caused more fights than anything in our history.
The last thing I wanted to do was cause my mother any additional pain during this period, but what else was I to do? What else CAN I do? Am I evil for not staying with my parents when we visit? Is it not more evil to expose an innocent baby; who cannot make decisions or take care of himself, to a smoky house?
I don't know. I know I've made the decision. I've caused trouble that I never meant to cause. I've upset a very ill person and caused more stress, which is the last thing she needed. And I'm made to feel guilty about the decision. So am I right or wrong?
Anyway, that's the reason for the layoff. Sorry for those 3 of you who actually read this stupid thing.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Update on Last Post
Here you go:
http://arstechnica.com/news.ars/post/20070118-8651.html
This kind of thing scares the heck out of me.
Hugo Chavez has some stiff competition here in the US for establishing a dictatorship, looks like.
We have cameras recording our every public move, chips in our cars that record our speed, acceleration, etc.
George Orwell was a prophet, apparently.
http://arstechnica.com/news.ars/post/20070118-8651.html
This kind of thing scares the heck out of me.
Hugo Chavez has some stiff competition here in the US for establishing a dictatorship, looks like.
We have cameras recording our every public move, chips in our cars that record our speed, acceleration, etc.
George Orwell was a prophet, apparently.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Like Your Opinion Actually MATTERS To The Government
Whew. Haven't blogged in awhile. Many things keeping me busy, not the least of which is the new arrival. But life is progressing satisfactorily, I must say. Except the looming trouble with the spread of communism. I turn around, and all sorts of things are happening.
As the days go on, I am less and less trustful of the federal government. It appears that neither of the major political parties care anything about what is right for the country: morals, values, ethics, etc.
Example: if George Bush actually gave a crap about security, he'd build a wall on the border.
If John Mccain knew anything or cared anything about the freedoms secured by our Constitution, he would have never authored McCain-Feingold. I could go on.
Now, it appears Congress is attempting to limit the free speech of Christian family advocacy groups. Democrats don't want the clergy talking to their flocks about what goes on in the government. Imagine that.
James Dobson is spearheading a campaign to shut this down. As he pointed out, it simply appears that Congress doesn't want to hear from us. Imagine that. This article also summarizes his position on John McCain: no way. This is a petition actually worth signing.
This measure is against everything our Constitution was written to embody. It scares the heck out of me.
I think our entire way of life in this country is under attack, and will vanish into history unless we are very careful. The American people have all the power, lest we forget. It's time we started using it. Don't vote for a single incumbent. Demand term limits. And create a new third party that is actually conservative, for a change.
Via Drudge Report.
As the days go on, I am less and less trustful of the federal government. It appears that neither of the major political parties care anything about what is right for the country: morals, values, ethics, etc.
Example: if George Bush actually gave a crap about security, he'd build a wall on the border.
If John Mccain knew anything or cared anything about the freedoms secured by our Constitution, he would have never authored McCain-Feingold. I could go on.
Now, it appears Congress is attempting to limit the free speech of Christian family advocacy groups. Democrats don't want the clergy talking to their flocks about what goes on in the government. Imagine that.
James Dobson is spearheading a campaign to shut this down. As he pointed out, it simply appears that Congress doesn't want to hear from us. Imagine that. This article also summarizes his position on John McCain: no way. This is a petition actually worth signing.
This measure is against everything our Constitution was written to embody. It scares the heck out of me.
I think our entire way of life in this country is under attack, and will vanish into history unless we are very careful. The American people have all the power, lest we forget. It's time we started using it. Don't vote for a single incumbent. Demand term limits. And create a new third party that is actually conservative, for a change.
Via Drudge Report.
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