Jules

The gate seemed particularly small today, even with giant towers on either side, which certainly climbed into the lower stratosphere. Shimmering silver, Jules watched them grow slowly from over a mile away, one foot in front of the other, exhausted.

He didn't know if he was running from something or towards it, but he somehow knew he had gotten somewhere, even though he stood at the same place he started. He looked up at the security cameras and the disturbing owl statue which dominated the entrance. (It came with the place. Damn owls were everywhere.) He fell onto the grass at the fringes of his estate, arms splayed out to either side.

It was about a half hour closer to death, was all he could be sure of. He looked at his watch to confirm. He was right. 32 minutes. Jules achieved more in those minutes than he had all day. He summed it up in his head quick...

Two brain tumors successfully removed, both children in stable condition - 5 hours.
Three meals enjoyed...2000 calories - 1 hour 30 minutes.
One congressman bribed in return for special medical care - 2 minutes.
One prostitute solicited and paid for - 15 minutes.
Two shots of whiskey with his wife - 20 minutes.

Nope. He hadn't gotten anywhere except those 32 minutes. Hmm.

He had no guilt. He had no pride. No shame. Some apathy. The wife insisted on the estate, the pool, the expensive car. He didn't complain. Besides, she arranged for excellent lawn service, which he enjoyed thoroughly at the moment, clouds floating overhead.

It was dusk and he watched the puffy turtle-hog morph into toucan dragon (the kind with a long spiny tail), he realized that everything he did was a response to something else...some other condition that beckoned a multiple choice answer.

Do I:
(A) Eat waffle?
(B) Eat toast?
(C) Have only coffee?

It agonized him that morning. The last Toaster Strudel had dropped from the counter top directly into Muffin's mouth. Muffin was Jule's Great Dane.

His whole day fell into ruin because of it...

Work relieved him usually. At work there was always a procedure...a proper way to drill through the skull. No one ever did it any other way....

Wouldn't ya know it...today they had a new fancy new drill for him. Sure enough, it splattered chunks of flesh and bone all over the place.

Dinner was also a welcome relief. He had eaten the same dish at the same restaurants for years. When he found something he liked, he stuck to it. Changing things required too much thought.

Figures...that night his favorite restaurant had gone out of business.

He starved in protest, ordering a side salad at his second favorite restaurant across the street.

He dines with the congressman each week. The bribery was a welcome relief. After he had been given the offer, there was no real decision to be made there.

Beneath Samantha he had realized that a great portion of his life was devoted to the single pursuit of being able to think about things less. As such, change was always contrary to his goal. But still, how could something as insignificant as waffle vs. toast bother him? Was the risk of the most trivial distraction becoming as much of a trap as a previous era's uncertainty? Was he simply trading one cage for another? She agreed that it was possible.

The whiskey was nice, as usual. His wife less so, as usual.

In fact, running was the one thing he did that actually made life harder...he wondered why he did it. It wasn't to stay in shape. It wasn't to accomplish anything in particular other than to run.

The life-saving procedures, money, and power were all fine, but he really just liked to run.

All other decisions he made were responses to multiple choice questions.

(A) Medical School
(B) Law School

(A) Blue house
(B) Red house

As the mutant brontosaurus ate the mushroom, he pondered the possibility that he actually arranged everything else in his life in order to run. Could those 32 minutes and the moments after really be the reason he did everything else?

Realizing he was late for bed, he stood up, rushed to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, put on his red pajamas, apologized for being late, crawled in bed, read a few pages, kissed his wife, turned off the light, and drifted into a relaxed delirium, where his thoughts somehow drifted more than usual.

Quotes of the Day

I think that is the best movie I ever saw.
-William F. Buckley Jr. after seeing "The Lives of Others" (a few months before he died at age 82)

When a soul sleeps its body serves no legitimate purpose other than its prodding.
-Anonymous

Play by your own rules whenever you can. They are among the precious few designed to help you specifically.
-Anonymous

Darla

Darla was late for work one morning and frantically rummaging for a particular dress in her dark closet. It was Casual Day, and she needed the one that looked super nice without being business-like. She remembered thinking to herself, "man, wouldn't it be nice if I had glowing hands." Suddenly, to her relief, they both became illuminated. "Thank God." She waved her hand over the rack, found her dress, and stepped out of the closet. Perfect!

"Wait." She thought. She realized that she just made her hands glow, just by thinking about it.

Placing her dress on the bed, she looked down at her white palms and fingers, which were as bright as a camp lantern. "Man, I wish my hands didn't glow so brightly." Then they dimmed. She could vary the degree of brightness at will, and had fun playing with this ability for a few minutes. Then, she put on her dress and went to work.

In her car on the way to work, she pondered the possibilities. What else hadn't she tried? She imagined flying over the bumper-to-bumper traffic. It didn't work. She tried to illuminate only her middle finger. It didn't work. She didn't seem to have any other special abilities, but she also recognized the multitude of skills she had never considered she might have.

By the time she got to work, her mind was racing. X-ray vision, nope, fire breathing, nope, super strength, nada (although she invoked some unique glances behind a Volvo in the parking garage). She concentrated really really hard and tried to shoot lasers out of her eyes to no avail.

Finally, INVISIBILITY, YES!

"Hi Darla"

DAMN!

By the time she got into her cube it looked like she was stuck with glowing fricking hands.

What awful luck! How unfortunate that of all the super abilities, this was the one she got!? She walked into the break room and saw Pete making coffee "WHAM!" she yelled as Pete turned around to a flash brighter than the sun. "hehe, it's my super-ability." The room dimmed and brightened a few times. Pete walked away, eyes wide, pinching his arm.

That's when Darla realized that Pete might not have any super abilities. Poor Pete, he can't even make his hands glow. At least I can do that! She thought to herself. "HAHAHA! I am a super human!" But soon she decided it was kind of sad. What if I didn't have my unique ability. What if I had never thought to make my hands glow!? What would I do then!? I'd be normal. That would be terrible! Everyone else is a sad, sad, miserable creature. No glowing hands. How terrible.

Darla thought about it and decided she wouldn't show her ability to anyone else. After all, others would seeth with envy if they knew about her unique talent. Besides, she didn't want everyone to think she was a freak or something anyway. It was her little secret. "Oh, how difficult it is to have such a wonderful and unique skill, and no one to impress with it" she thought. No, that sounds kind of conceited. "What a tortured and lonely soul I am to be trapped with an amazing skill that no one can appreciate!" That's it! It's everyone else's fault that they don't have super abilities like me! They are all holding me back! IDIOTS!

The next morning Darla walked into the break room again. Pete was making coffee as usual. He seemed to be slightly afraid as he walked by her. Darla decided to speak up.

"Morning Pete. Hey, about yesterday. I'm sorry I pulled that trick on you. It was just a cheap magic trick, you know, one of those flash thingys."
"You kind of scared me there. It really did look like your hands were actually glowing."
"Nope, it's my little stupid trick."
"Well, careful not to blind anyone with that one, haha."
"Oh, you know me better than that! Little Miss Cautious, you know."
"That is what they say, isn't it. Well, back to work."

Pete took a sip of his coffee and stepped through the wall on his way out.

Darla spent the remainder of the day nursing her nose.

200

I just noticed that my last blog entry was number 200. It seems like just yesterday I became inspired to unleash some random thoughts to be scrutinized by the 6 billion of you that are watching. I have "gone on record" to a certain degree, and I suggest everyone else do the same. Scribbling at least one thought a week to be lampooned by every other living human should be a requirement of each individual in a civilized society.

Death Spiral

I would remind you that extremism in the defense of liberty is no vice! And let me remind you also that moderation in the pursuit of justice is no virtue.

These words helped kill Barry Goldwater's political career and legacy. He claims the speech was handed to him and that he hadn't seen it previously (reason # 1 to always cite your sources). Both statements in the above quote are sound when taking for granted that a law-abiding citizen's rights may not be sacrificed for any cause, and extremism pertains to speech, protest, and due process as the primary means of acquiring justice.

Unfortunately, his "peace through strength" approach to the Cold War gave some the impression that even a nuclear attack was a valid form of extremism so long as liberty and justice were the cause. This perverse and incorrect interpretation was deftly perpetuated by Linden Johnson's famous attack ad demonstrating the apparent recklessness of his opponent. The ad shows a girl picking daisy pedals followed by a hydrogen bomb explosion and mushroom cloud as if a Goldwater presidency = mutually assured destruction and the immediate slaughter of innocent children.

So, here is a revision of Goldwater's quote that I think more closely illustrates the intended meaning...

I would remind you that extremism in defense of one's own life, liberty, and property is no vice, so long as it does not infringe on another's capacity to defend theirs. And let me remind you also that moderation in the pursuit of justice is no virtue, so long as you are equipped with irrefutable evidence.

Johnson's 1964 commercial is known as the first real "attack ad" and I think it illustrates a turning point in our thinking as a nation.

From the perspective of a free and civilized population, Goldwater's meaning could not be misinterpreted. A sensible person accepts that the word "defense" is just that, and there is never justification for war until one is actually attacked - a rule long accepted by Western civilization since St. Augustine's Just War Doctrine. We can always hope that the best weapon/military is occupied by the society least likely to use it. Such conditions make war unlikely. At the time, one could expect that our free and open society was less likely to attack than an unrepresented, corrupt oligarchy behind an iron curtain. The necessity to acquire the most powerful military was never greater.

If we consider the possibility our government is capable of initiating nuclear war, Goldwater's words must be interpreted differently. They appear to be the words of a possibly dangerous, unrestrained ideologue who would sacrifice whole populations for the defense of some abstract ideology. This interpretation is so preposterous that no modern, civilized republic could be constituted by a population that would take it seriously.

Enter the power of doubt and fear.

Despite decades of evidence to the contrary, given the stakes, a reasonable person might consider the possibility that Goldwater is an ideologue after enough media persuasion. More disturbingly, being branded an advocate of total war, the timeless merits of individual liberty espoused by Goldwater (even if naively) become tarnished by the public's misinterpretation. In a flash, the very ideas that have built the framework of our society are rejected in favor of fear, doubt, and the propaganda of a clever populist.

In 1964, a population deferred to its own media-manufactured public perception rather than its principles and individual thought. The observant noticed a new door to power was opened to anyone capable of defaming all others for their own benefit. The possibility had been proven, yet again, that one can use fear and perception to occupy a population.

In fact, the corrosive environment which requires all of us to look at politicians with skepticism is itself a recursive, self-fulfilling prophesy. If we are all willing to interpret our leader's words as if they are all capable of single-handedly destroying our country, virtually any intelligent, truthful statement can be twisted into the opposite meaning. Our would-be leaders know this and respond by speaking in vague, undefined, meaningless phrases. Are we really a population of individuals who insist on the candidate most capable of "not screwing up?"

The ridiculous downward death spiral is evident to this day. We see a blatantly impossible manufactured race between Hillary (fervent Goldwater supporter turned left-leaning Democrat) and the populist, disturbingly charismatic, Barack. One recent example...Rush Limbaugh, in an effort to advance the weakest opponent for McCain, endorses Hillary and the Republicans flock to the voting booths for her. This is McCain, the ill-tempered guy who opposed the Bush tax cuts, and who's patriotism will never be questioned, even when impaled dissenters are slowly creeping down their bloody poles on Capital lawn. This ability to create one's own news is like a printing press for everyone collecting from mass-media and no one seems to notice or care.

At the same time our country is engaged in a preemptive, undeclared war. We can still always hope that the best weapon/military is occupied by the society least likely to use it. Soon, we may not be that country. After the many other things we've lost over the last 54 years, now that we've lost the ability to vote for any candidate that represents us, what the hell are we fighting for anyway? The right to continue to give half (yes, half) of our income to the corporations in bed with government?

In reality, being a "conservative" in the day of Goldwater was itself an ideology that rejected all ideologies that had proven themselves dangerous, unjust, oppressive, counterproductive, evil, etc. Preemptive war was and is, of course, one of those ideologies, and the very thing Goldwater was trying to protect us from. The principles he championed eventually did allow us to acquire peace after they were acted upon by Reagan.

Still, to this day, Goldwater is viewed as an "ultra-conservative" and synonymous with aggressive war, an outright fallacy.

It seems like war does not begin when someone attacks us, but when fear and doubt press us to first vote in contradiction with our conscience, for the lesser of two abhorrent ideologues capable of rejecting (or simply forgetting) the lessons of history.

Finally, when justification equals public approval, we step into the polls only to vote against Satan himself while the philosopher kings scream from their cages in vain, pressed forward through the flames of persistent ridicule by some inconceivable force dismissed as insanity. Yes, this is a mad, mad world.

Timmy

He sat and stared at them with clenched lips. They were revolting. He would not eat them. Never. Looking from the outside in, one couldn't possibly imagine why Timmy would resist eating his beans. The six billion watched on their televisions, on the multitude of screens at Best Buy, on the Time Square megatron...All Timmy needed to do was eat one bean and the human race would be spared from certain destruction. Timmy's older brother Tom was aware of this, and treaded carefully in the quiet, secluded room.

"ZOOM! IT'S A FLYING SUBMARINE!" he would yell as he took the been in his hands, running it around the room. Timmy would smile and laugh, raising his hands in the air. But as soon as the submarine approached his lips, they would slam shut like an iron blast door. The precise moment silliness turned to seriousness, Timmy could be bothered to do nothing but sit obstinately.

Secretly, of course, Timmy actually liked beans. But what he liked better was watching Tom make a fool of himself, and on this day, Tom was particularly entertaining. The bean was bounced, paraded around, dressed in barbie clothing, affixed with a pope costume. But after several hours, Timmy noticed Tom was sweating. There was a sort of terror in his eyes that Timmy hadn't seen before just behind the smiles and foolishness. The almost imperceptible hue of fear was slightly curious to Timmy at first, and then became mysterious. "What is going on" he thought, as the caped bean was catapulted across the room.

Seeing Timmy unresponsive, Tom noticed that time was running short. He began to plead with Timmy. Please Timmy, please, eat it for me. Timmy's smile turned blank.

Eat it for me Timmy...

AAAAAAAGHAGHGHAGHGAHGHHGHGGGGGGGGH! Timmy exploded in a fit of crying.

EAT THE BEAN TIMMY! PLEASE, FOR THE SAKE OF THE HUMAN RACE, EAT THE DAMN BEAN!

AAAAAAAGHAGHGHAGHGAHGHHGHGGGGGGGGH! The crying intensified.

Tom waited for Timmy to stop.

Tom even took Timmy by the shoulders and gently begged "please, please eat the bean, it's our only hope." Nothing. Now it was an expression of pride. He would not break his resolve. Nothing would ever, EVER, open Timmy's mouth.

The aliens quietly evaporated Tom.

Alone in the room, Timmy picked up the bean and munched on it, subsequently finishing his plate.

Quote of the Day

Elite opinion is always on the side of doing things that really disadvantage the vast majority of Americans
-Hillary Clinton
Multimillionaire US Senator and former First Lady

On Marriage

Weddings have a way of putting things back into perspective. I know many say that they "don't need a piece of paper" to prove their love for one another. Fair enough. Others may love someone, but know they are incapable of a lifetime commitment. An important thing to consider before getting married for sure. Some "don't believe in marriage" altogether for all of the many practical and logical reasons. And, while I totally respect these opinions, I struggle to see much around that carries as much meaning as getting hitched.

Here, in a society that profoundly rejects everything religious, western, and traditional, why would two people subject themselves to the humiliation of appearing to give-in to the social pressures of a bygone era? I mean, really, isn't that what it boils down to today? By getting married don't we open ourselves to the masses of those, who for our own good, warn us: "you're only doing this because someone told you to...it's not real!"

Then, the talking heads on TV tell us marriage is this or that to collect their paychecks, the politicians argue about who can get married and who can't to get votes. Everyone seems to have a lot to say about the matter.

I'm completely marred by bias as a husband, but I actually think that makes me qualified to say a word on the subject. I have always been skeptical of "activists" merely because being one seems to ensure you will get absolutely nothing done (if you even know what you're doing). But, a bride and groom are actually the most effective "activists" imaginable.

As we trudge through heaping piles of bullshit throughout our daily lives, a man and a woman can choose to make a statement that actually has the potential to mean something. You have the opportunity to stand before everyone you know and make a series of outrageous statements. You have the nerve to stand up there and say something utterly impossible with a straight face, mean it completely, and people listen. In fact, of all the things you say in your life, these may be the few words anyone actually does believe.

Or maybe not. They could still mean nothing, as always...But, where truth is, it must be separated from the bullshit, and weddings are one effective mechanism we use to do that. It's 15 minutes where you get the benefit of the doubt. And, if ever something needed to be said, these things would be it.

And hell, the weddings that are indeed bullshit, well, at least you got dinner and the chance to booze it up with your friends. (Fortunately, the weddings I have been part of have all been the best of both worlds.)

I'm not going to discuss the meat of marriage as that's between each bride, groom, and the giant spaghetti monster, but when I see other couples share some of the same ideas I/we have about what marriage means, I do find it deeply moving, and definitely a reason to celebrate.

So, with that, I'd like to congratulate Craig and Kelly, and officially wish them a long, happy, healthy marriage! I do believe I witnessed something "real" Saturday, and in this world, that means quite a lot. Cheers!

(And I also ask them to try to forgive the incomprehensible garbage they saw on my impromptu - undeletable - video interview...ug).

The Revolution: A Manifesto

Alright ladies and gentlemen, here it is. Go buy it, tear into it, and give me your worst.

Reading this was like highly concentrated crack for the libertarian-minded nut job. Seeing all of the reasons for limited government illustrated with supporting facts all wrapped into a nice package made my head want to a splode.

It was too indulgent. We all must remember...

He who knows only his own side of the case, knows little of that. -John Stuart Mill

Not that I know nothing of socialism. But, I must find the equivalent socialist text...one that aims to completely blow free market libertarianism out of the water. If you know of one, please send it my direction. Please! Right now I am almost convinced that the cooperation of government and big business is indeed the root of all evil. Prove me wrong.

Yes, I have already read "The Communist Manifesto." I understand the necessity for positive liberty in some cases including things like roads, dispute resolution, and yes, even (and especially) health care. But, these must be the exception rather than the rule. Why? Because government has nothing. Goods and services are ripped away from the people and redistributed by bureaucrats according to need. Unless we all require the same need for that particular thing, its called stealing.

Should we all be content drinking soda sweetened with corn syrup because the tiny population of well-connected sugar interests are protected by the US government? This sort of thing is what shapes the world we live in. What happens to the majority of us who are not well-connected? We end up slaves for those who are. Is that okay with you? Read the book and tell me why Ron Paul is a nut case so I can live in peace!