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Tuesday, February 11, 2014

How To Make Friends




Morning is the time to walk the beach on Sanibel.

I was mulling over who Saint Ybel was who was the eponym of this blessed speck of land, Sanibel = San Ybel = Saint Ybel. I applied a wikiquet to it (wikiquette = wiki + tourniquet, pronounced "wiki-ket"... send royalties to me). I discovered Ybel was a variant of Isybella, English Isabella.

So a chunky old bald guy walks past us.
It was not I. I was not looking into a mirror. I do not have a gentleman's gentleman following me around with the full length mirror from my armoire in a cart, so that I can look at myself walking upon the strand. It was another old bald guy.

So I sez, "Look how fast he is walking. That young buck! Look at those legs!"

She-who-must-be-obeyed ignored me.

So this struck my fancy, and I continued every day with a number of random crones and codgers that crossed our path. I would comment upon feminine charms, and say that various elder dolls must have been knockouts in their prime, and the guys were world class, too.

Finally, She-who-etc. bade me shut up at the same point of exhaustion... every day.

Time passes; the sun rises and sets; the moon is over Miami; pennies from heaven burn your feet as you walk at midday.

Funny thing; I find that when we go out to eat at various eateries, people look at us in a welcoming manner. People even wave, even though I am sure I have never had the pleasure of their acquaintance.
A vastly different experience from the usual thing when people fork their fingers and try to avert the malocchio when I enter an eating establishment. Nobody has offered to pick up our check yet, but it is only a matter of time.

I like it when people smile at me.

--

Asymmetrical Villainy




By the pool of the John's Island Club, the subject was politics, or near-politics. (Somewhat like talking about American televangelists is near-religion... not the real deal but they mill around in the same ball park.)

The subject went to Edward Snowden, and the person who raised the topic said,
"Edward Snowden, hero or villain?"
and we went around the table.

I was first. I hesitated about one second, letting a flurry of thoughts rise like startled sea gulls from the beachscape of my mind.
"Hero," I said.
Three of us said hero, and we said it definitely. We did not cavil with some nonsense like
"I think... hero.... yes. Hero."
Just the one word "hero".

The person who raised the question said
"Villain."

just as definitely.

Maybe more definitely. She had a list of reasons ready, and they were not the solid block of monolithic emotional reasons I would have given at first; they were the product of rational analysis and thought. At this time I was interested suddenly in how "analog" the emotional mind is and how "digital" and discrete is reason. (Emotion is like a an entire ivory tusk, while reason is more like Mah-Jong tiles .)
These came down to a basic proposition that Mr. Snowden's dumped vast amounts of data to the media, and this data had the potential to hurt people.

Some people would have argued this point, but we did not, for the proof would be in the future pudding.

However, I was struck by the new concept of "villain". I am sure that Mr. Snowden agonized over his decision, being aware that he could very well become a man without a country.
If he were not being paid for his information, he would lose his country, home, and way of life in pursuit of some idealized notion of human rights and human privacy and who knows what other moral goods.

So if he did not sell his data, it seemed as if he was either (1) a hero, or (2) a villain who perpetrated his dastardly deeds for all the same reasons and sufferings which befall heroic figures in Western myths and stories.

And that is why the world is so often mysterious, for all is not Professor Xavier and Magneto of the old comic books; rather it is Professor Xavier and Magneto of the modern films, where the good remains nebulous (and only the shadowy government agencies are truly "evil").  And it is "nebulous" in the sense that the good is hard to see and find, not that it is hazy by its very nature. In no way does "nebulous" imply something like the popular philosophy notion of "relative".

All mankind of goodwill will find out in the final winnowing who was a hero and who the villain... maybe.

Maybe we shall all be heroes and heroines.

Or not.

--



Monday, February 10, 2014

Erosion Control




Soil is one of the necessities of social well being: no soil, no food, no society.
When soils were exhausted or when soils were removed from wind or rain and the replenishment rate could not keep up with the erosion, then human societies fell into rapid decline.

A good article on good husbandry of the soil:
Mother Jones
http://www.motherjones.com/tom-philpott/2014/02/iowas-vaunted-farms-are-losing-topsoil-alarming-rate

Iowa Is Getting Sucked Into Scary Vanishing Gullies
—By Tom Philpott
| Fri Feb. 7, 2014 3:00 AM GMT
Last year, after a record drought in 2012, Iowa experienced the wettest spring in its recorded history. The rains triggered massive runoff from the state's farms into its creeks, streams, and rivers, tainting water with toxic nitrate from fertilizer. Nitrate levels in the state's waterways reached record levels—so high that they emerged as "a real issue for human health," Bob Hirsch, a hydrologist for the US Geological Survey, told the Associated Press.
 
The event illustrated two problems facing Iowa and the rest of the nation's topsoil-rich grain belt. The first is the challenge of climate change: how to manage farmland in an era when weather lurches from brutal drought to flooding, as it likely will with increasing frequency. The second, related one is the largely invisible crisis of Iowa's topsoil, which appears to be eroding at a much higher rate than US Department of Agriculture numbers account for—and, more importantly, at as much as 16 times the natural replacement rate...

--

Sunday, February 09, 2014

A Conceptual Touch-Free Car Wash



The Mother of Khaita
 
 
 

Dionysos
Carl Kerenyi
Bollingen Series LXV.2
page 108
The Homeric version of the death of Ariadne becomes fully comprehensible only if there was between her and Dionysos the closest relationship possible between a man and a woman...
This passage deals with some intricate ideas about Ariadne and her exact relationship to Dionysos.

When it dawned on me that the closest relationship meant that between a mother and her son, I felt my own mother's presence... I saw her not in an "Ah-ha!" experience of great clarity, but as if I were in a car watching sheets of water streaming down the glass of the windows: it was not clear and not easy to see through them, but it was as if they were melting, changing, streaming, blowing, absolute clarity combined with turbulence and opacity.
As if sitting in a car wash, I thought.
Something changed within me, but it changed in a way that I could not grab and put into a concept.

This was two days ago.

Things are so rarely as we experience when introduced to the history of Freud. Things rarely are encapsulated within one single and clear concept, and that single concept does not lead us to "Ah-ha!", but more often to a more rigorously defined mystery.

--

Trunk Monkeys

I have been introduced to Trunk Monkeys.
I thought it was pretty hilarious.

See YouTube.

--

Florida Days

Piggy



Things are quiet in Florida this AM; lazy sun coming over the horizon, mist shuffling off the lawn, gators sleeping on the golf course.
Back home I see it is 13 degrees, and for 6:48 in the morning, that represents a warming trend. It should be above freezing by the time I return to the airport to shovel my car out of the long term parking lot... in my blue blazer and dock siders.
 
Lizard Breath and Gecko Eyes are growing up. We stumbled across them again at the 19th Hole at John's Island Club House, and just as if they were still supernumeraries in the black-and-white version of The Lord Of The Flies, they yelled "Piggy!" - for Pygopodia, a genus of geckoids and, unfortunately, my nickname in this triune club - and were howling down the hills to steal my specs.

We made plans to do some stuff, my wife and I and the boy Lizard and the girl Gecko.
Their parents were fine with a little free child care, and they trusted us almost as much as they found me insufferable, thinking that if children were to be seen and not heard down at the Club and Beach, I really should be neither. But there it was.

We perused the film listings for the inevitable chance of a rainy day - every other activity was a combination of  "picnic", "pool", "beach", and "frankfurters" (that's what they call 'em at John's Island and they go for $10, and as a friend pointed out, since kids rarely take more than 2, 3 bites from a hot dog, that nets out at about $25 per standard hot dog fully consumed).

I, Frankenstein was the favorite early on. However, on checking the Rotten Tomatoes reviews, barely 51% of the audience liked it... and this was the audience made up mostly of guys and gals that were at Screwie Louie's Porpoise Pub Big Fourth Anniversary Party which was a white ponytail affair, roughly meaning bikers my age and their old ladies.
That was not a good sign.
Lizard B. and G. Eyes had already seen ("been dragged to" as they nicely put it) Monument Men, and they said it was monumentally boring, the fact that it outscored I, Frankenstein notwithstanding.

Last night we "sat" for them, even though they are too old to allow any notion of "babysitting" to attach to this type of primate behavior. Popcorn and The Walking Dead on AMC. Their parents had given faint endorsement of such TV: "Walking Dead or whatever..."
Some straight guys and dolls - what does one call non-zombies? I chose "straight"; I suppose Straight Rights organizations will be offended - were hacking the arms off a zombie, smashing his teeth and mandible on a rock, taking him home to meet the gang... who lived at a old prison, and there was a joyous reunion of the straights, which included being lovingly hit by the butt of a rifle and being placed in a cell by old and smiling friends.

During this waking nightmare, LB and GE told me of a friend of their parents, who lived in New Brunswick and was visiting earlier in the month, and constantly referred to strangers, foreigners, tourists, immigrants, and generally new faces as Come-From-Away-ers.
It sounded very north-of-the-border to me and the wife, both having gone to University in the Great White North.




It also resembled 1984's NewSpeak.

"Ever Orwell!" I said, hoping for a laugh.
Nobody laughed.
I explained the Canadian use of the intensifier "ever", but by then what had been Wit had wilted into Pun, which in turn decayed to Mawkish Jape.

--


Saturday, February 08, 2014

Yoghurt Wars




I got the impression that the refusal of Russia to allow a shipment of Chobani yoghurt to be landed to feed the Olympic athletes to be yet another example of what our Media describes as Russian "attitude".

Yet, I read today in the Farm Journal site AgWeb:
http://www.agweb.com/article/russias_chobani_yogurt_embargo_indicative_of_bigger_problem_NAA_News_Release/
The U.S. Dairy Export Council (USDEC) and the National Milk Producers Federation (NMPF) are calling on Russian authorities to end its country’s three-year embargo of U.S. dairy products. The groups’ call for action follows Russia’s refusal to accept a New York company’s Greek yogurt for consumption by U.S. athletes at the winter Olympics in Sochi, Russia.
"This is yet another example of how Russia’s blockade of U.S. dairy products is harming U.S. companies," says Tom Suber, USDEC president.
Media reports have indicated that a large shipment of yogurt from Chobani was refused entry into Russia, even though the company is a major sponsor of the U.S. Olympic team. "Russia has turned a cold shoulder to many U.S. businesses trying to ship dairy products to Russia, despite our ample efforts during the past three years to prove their safety and quality. Reopening this market on a permanent basis would be a great benefit for U.S. companies and Russian consumers," says Suber...
So the ban has been in place for three years, it was not deemed worthy of the Media three ring circus before this, and US folks are working to prove the safety and quality.

If there's a safety question, what is it, and why am I eating the yoghurt?

--

Monday, February 03, 2014

All The News That Fit To Eat, Or...

...the incredible, edible news!




The Today show is on the background, and at approx 8:05 I hear the young lady giving the news say:
"In the Phillipines, Mount Cinnabun erupted..."
and there is a photo of a volcano, not a pastry.

Now the Long Johns with butter cream from the Home Bakery in Rochester, Michigan (tel: 248-651-4830) is another matter, and they are rather high on the Richter Scale.



Mt. Sinabung

--

A Loss Of Relevance

In Yahoo News this morning:
WASHINGTON (AP) — Sen. Marco Rubio, a major player on immigration policy, said Wednesday that there was no chance now of passing a broad overhaul because Republicans have lost trust in President Barack Obama.
The first-term Florida lawmaker, a potential White House contender in 2016, cited GOP concerns about whether the president could be trusted to enforce tough security requirements in the Senate's bipartisan immigration bill that Rubio helped write.
Rubio said the Obama administration has lost credibility as a result of how it handled the 2012 attack against a U.S. outpost in Libya and accusations that the Internal Revenue Service targeted conservative groups...

I do not see the relevance of Mr. Rubio's complaints.
This is strongly suggestive of looking around for any excuse that comes to hand. If it is, it is once more contemptible.

--

Untidy Bowls And Other Thoughts

Steve, The Cat Who Visited Mars



I did not watch the Super Bowl, except for a few minutes during the second quarter when Seattle was gloriously ahead by 15 points.

I did not favor one side over the other; I did not wish the brave Seahawks defeat the inferior Broncos. I was quite fair about the whole thing.

There was a Puppy Bowl on Animal Planet, and there was an earlier Kitten Bowl on Hallmark. There used to be (as still is, for all I know) a Kitten Half-Time show at the Puppy Bowl, but they did not get a patent on it, and now the kittens have their own Super Bowl... which is probably not good for the owners of the Puppy League franchises.
Maybe the Kitten League and the Puppy League will combine. Then we could have a really Tidy (Super) Bowl.

Given the success of these alternative Bowls, in one of my acerbic Swiftian moods (Jonathan, not Tom) I said that I thought there might be a chance for an alternative bowl on C-Span with Syrian refugees.

Or an Islamic militant Shia-Beheading-Bowl.

This was considered to be an atrociously brutish thing to say, not at all like the Syrian War itself, which we have not only tolerated for three years, but which our government actually supported when it seemed as if we could get rid of Bashar Al Assad on the cheap by letting the old dependable Saudis and Qataris do it... heh-heh-heh!
(In a comment to a recent article about Syria in some publication, the commenter wrote that the "golf dictatorships" should be the ones responsible to sort things out. I had images of Phil Mickelson strutting about like Mussolini.)

War is not hell. Jokes about war are hell. War itself is tolerable, so it seems.

Who was it that said that
"War is merely the continuation of the daily deaths by automobiles and guns by other - and more efficient - means."  ?
I forget the name. Some bloke with a lot upstairs, though. Obviously.

--

It has been a year since my father died.

I had bought my wife the entire series of Six Feet Under, which we watched in the immersion method of watching actors. We are Method Watchers:  we immerse ourselves in the stories and characters so much so that we identify with them even when we are no longer potatoing upon the couch.
(I mentioned earlier that it dawned on me that this is how the ancients listened to the epics of Homer, and were educated thereby.)

Life and Death.
I believe that I suffered a good deal this past year. I was oppressed. There was nothing quite definite I was aware of, other than my physical pain which, surprisingly, has found a remedy just in the last week. Coincidence or not, I have had two or three years of increasing back and neck pain, and this period fits in exactly with the period of my father's decline, my parents' increasing demands upon me, and my father's passing.

It is hard to explain, as most of you know.
I feel alive for the first time in a long time.
I know the dynamos of life: nurture, love, family, eros, emotion, structure, spirituality; they all of them still functioned over the past few years, but they were dulled and darkened. Life was not living, but it has been an imitation of life, as if I were an actor always prepping for his role. No, more like the third understudy, who knew his chances of ever getting on the big stage were slim.

It's so hard for me to say. You'd think someone who fancies himself a writer could write about important things like that.
But words fail me.
It's like when I talked to God a couple years ago, He was on his way to a baseball game in Ebbetts Field (Can you believe it? The Dodgers have been gone since the 1950s.). He took time to smile, shake my hand firmly, and say that they'd been waiting for me.
Then off He goes with even the slightest word about dogma, belief, or the end of the world.
Which is probably a good thing, because I most likely would have obsessed about it, and driven people crazy.

I know it's pathetic, but words fail me in the face of the ineffable. Sorry.

So I know a bit about the well springs of life, and now I now the close touch of death, and where do I stand?Am I not still pretty much in the dark?

I feel like I am with Don Cheadle, Jerry O'Connell, and Connie Nielsen in their space rescue capsule returning from Mars in Mission To Mars, when the alien craft bearing Gary Sinise speeds by them on the way to some spiraled galaxy or another: speed and light piercing the dark with one fine line, leaving fast fading contrails in space (note to producer: I do not think there would be contrails in space.)
There is a goal; maybe I am going to it, maybe I am helping or helped others to it...
There is a triumph, and death has no dominion.

Creation never ends. Just like the Dodgers still play in Ebbetts Field, even if you see God running to catch a streetcar to the ball park. Even if you don't particularly like the brown suit He's wearing.

What matters is having been in it entirely with body, mind, and soul.

--






Saturday, February 01, 2014

The Rose Bud Cloud




There does not seem to be an accurate account why J. Robert Oppenheimer named the first atomic bomb test Trinity.

I think it was a name heavily influenced by fleeting memories of the sailboat he had as a teenager, and which he named Trimethy.



Trimethy comes from the organic molecule trimethylamine which can have a strong odor of fish, sometimes described as a rotting fish odor. The methyl group is a carbon atom bonded to three hydrogen atoms: CH3.
Trimethylamine has three (tri-) of these methyls grouped with one nitrogen:  N(CH3)3.



It is described as a nucleophile... interestingly enough.

--

Friday, January 31, 2014

The Wiki Force



Consider the Internet.

Consider the World.

The Wikipedia is a phenomenal source of data. It contains data that is
(1) free to all, and
(2) time-accessible to all,
(3) it's primary function - collecting, processing, and editing information - is open to all.
Points 1 and 2 combine to assure continuity in that even users with older hardware and operating systems may still access the Wikipedia.

Point 3 is massively interesting, for at present Wikipedia has formed itself into a hierarchy of editors with so many rules that newcomers are rare to the ranks of contributors. There are some problems to be worked out.

This Wiki is an incredibly interesting simulation of politics: equality versus hierarchy, democracy versus oligarchy, anarchy versus control.
"The usefulness of Wiki is in the freedom, simplicity, and power it offers."
Anything which does not require freedom, nor simplicity, nor power (in the sense of individual power) does not need Wiki.

----

Over Christmas, my goddaughter was speaking of how many people she knew were forming theor own groups to meet together, eat, drink, and discuss religion. This was a reaction against the stifling hierarchical control of the mainstream churches and the constraints of old dogmas.

How fascinating, I thought, as the present mirrors the past, and we see Agape feasts again in Christianity. Only this time these are not self-conscious agape feasts that are based on scriptural references and a desire to resurrect the old get-togethers; these are real get-togethers of interested people who probably refer to their meetings as Bible and Brew... no agape nor any other New Testament Greek to be found anywhere.

Is this not a Wiki of the Spirit?

Look at the history of any religion and note the progress from the state of Wiki to the state of more and more central control and immoveable dogma. It seems to be a natural human cycling.

Some human enterprises seem designed for authoritarian controls, such as the arts of warfare. Sometimes mankind shifts their understanding of the authoritarian into a Wiki and create elitism and hierarchies.
Most big religions are very concerned about control. It is the nature of things. We wish to control our surroundings, have a home, keep our kids from harm, have a good education system, etc., and these desire for control seem to naturally move into areas that are the realm of the individual soul, a Wiki area if ever there was one.

By observing how Wikipedia handles itself we may get a clue how to solve the problem of the group mind, that is, how a number of individuals who are loving and caring can come together and create a much larger group which then exhibits all the cruelty and bestiality of raging carnivores.

How does the Wiki enshrine what is good and virtuous in its members, and how does it withstand the types of control which lead to it becoming moribund and static?

(note: An interesting response to this may be the Islamic radical response, which sees warfare and violence as a means to regain its ideal. In this case, it is not clear whether the ideal is Wiki or not.)

--

As far as I can determine, the word "wiki" comes from Ward Cunningham's "WikiWikiWeb"  (http://www.c2.com/cgi/wiki?WelcomeVisitors), and was a short way of saying "quick" - pronounced "kwik". So "quick,quick" became "wiki, wiki"

Larry Sanger
The Early History of Nupedia and Wikipedia: A Memoir
http://features.slashdot.org/story/05/04/18/164213/the-early-history-of-nupedia-and-wikipedia-a-memoir
So Ben explained the idea of Ward Cunningham's WikiWikiWeb to me. Instantly I was considering whether wiki would work as a more open and simple editorial system for a free, collaborative encyclopedia, and it seemed exactly right.
I still dream that it also comes from "wikiup", which is defined as " wikiup: a lodge consisting of a frame covered with matting or brush; used by nomadic American Indians in the southwestern United States".
The definition suggests a temporary structure that may or may not follow definite plans depending upon the terrain and locale one finds oneself in.
There is a certain freedom from the School of Architecture here.

I think also of the wikiup at the end of the film Melancholia.

It was a Naked Wikiup in the form of a pyramid,  having no brush or matting to enclose it. It was the gateway of eternity for those who sought refuge within.



--


Thursday, January 30, 2014

Downton Abbey 2014



I no longer watch Downton Abbey.

I have seen She-who-must-be-obeyed, who used to poo-poo my criticisms of it, start to wonder what is wrong with that Fellowes fellow?

The Guardian reviewed the premiere episode this year by saying that the USA has scads of crappy TV shows, so why can't the UK?

The NY Times waffled, and tried to damn with faint praise, while praising with faint damns.


Six Feet Under




I had wanted to write about the series Six Feet Under about two weeks ago, and the press of business stopped me from doing so.

I had never seen the series before, and I liked it.
Since it is winter, we watch episodic entertainments like Six Feet Under in an immersion form of viewing: we do not watch one episode a week, nor even merely two or three a week; we watch two or three consecutively on the same day, and we find comfort in them as the winds howl outside.

I watched Six Feet during the polar vortex, which started here January 6.
(Now we are watching Jewel In The Crown and will soon start Brideshead Revisited.)

There is a lot about the series I did not like; there were some things I found tedious and boring, but the cumulative effect was overwhelming and positive.

It dawned on me that this immersion method of at least 3 hours of viewing at a sitting is probably a lot like the ancient Greeks used to listen to the poetry of Homer as the bards recited the exploits of Achilles and the Achaeans and Odysseus and his crew: a long session, interrupted by food and drink, long enough to fall under the spell of the words of enchantment, and be taken into the realm of the characters that populate those tales.

The most effective forms of propaganda would be long hours spent in the realms and rituals of fantasy, are they not?
It makes me think of Leni Reifenstahl and the Nurnberg rallies she documented in The Triumph Of The Will.
The will has nothing to do with it, other than consciously entering the sacred lands, lands taboo and haram, because of the power therein.

We are transformed for good or for ill, depending as we choose our enchantments.
--

My Mother's Way



I had my wife call the mater this morning.

I could not take any more chatting her up. I had called Michigan Blue Cross/Blue Shield and gotten straight on her billing: it was not that her payments were messed up, but it was the matter of her getting the concept "due date" and the concept "when I write out the check" mixed up.

For on the passing of my father, we had to establish her in her own account, which was done sometime before June 2013. Her new account had the same due date early in the month, which requires one write out the check towards the end of the month to get it to Blue Cross by the early due date.

By December, 2013, Michigan BC/BS wanted to get everyone on a different schedule with a new due date moved from the beginning of the month to the end of the month.
My mother thus received an invoice with a due date of 12/09 for coverage from 12/15/2013 through 01/15/2014, say, according to the old way. Then under the new way BC/BC wanted to establish, she got an invoice with a due date for 12/25/2013 (instead of 01/09/2014 as it would have been under the old invoice plan) for the coverage period 01/16/2014 through 02/15/2014.

She did not glance at the coverage periods involved, only at the fact that she got two invoices with due dates in December. She was being double  billed!

So we called BC/BS and got the due date switched back to early in the month, around the 9th.

What mixed her up was the corrected invoice BC/BS had to issue to get the due date back from the 25th to the 9th of the month. When this correction came through, she saw it as a double billing again.
And this time she was certain of it, because it said that the due date was the 9th (as I was certain we had asked for back before Christmas), and she had always paid Blue Cross at the end of the month... forever!
And here it is again the beginning of the month!

She had gotten mixed up: under her old system of invoices,  one prepares the check at the end of the month to get it to Blue Cross by the 9th at the beginning of the month next. In a loose sense, one pays at the end of the month (even though the money's due at the beginning of the following month).
So I was mightily mixed up, too.
But Blue Cross had done what we asked: the due date was early in the month, meaning that you mail your payment in at the end of the month before (if you are very cautious about it).

Finally, it was settled... for a while. I don't even know if this is clear to anyone else.
You are lucky if is not!

However, this morning I could not talk to her anymore.
I had come home Tuesday. She had called Wednesday to see how I had made out with Blue Cross, and I had not gotten a chance to talk to them yet. I had spent about 150 minutes Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday waiting to speak to someone; there were many questions relating to the new health care coverage as it turns out, and the volume of calls was unusually high.

During her Wednesday call, she told me how she remember that her nephew's first wife had died alone in her condo, and finally her daughter, step-daughter, or niece had decided that after a week of no phone calls, she had best investigate.
She discovered her dear mother, sainted step-mother, or doting aunt dead for a week.
I told her I was glad she was thinking happy thoughts.
She said that she wanted to save her children from the shock of such an event. (She had spoken to the girl who had been involved, and had been told how ghastly it all was.)

So she was going to call me every day from now on, so that I would know she was yet alive and would not have to worry that she was not.

I reminded her she had just two weeks ago left the phone off the hook for 36 hours just 2 hours after I had taken her to the heart doctor to get her pacemaker set. (She had been feeling very tired. She was going to wait until her March appointment, but she let it slip to my wife that she was short of breath at times.)
I attempted to call her the next day, Saturday, and mention that since she felt better, she best not overdo it and tire herself out.  Busy signal!  Busy signal for the next 6 hours.
Sunday my niece called with her news about the busy signal.
And so on.
(This had happened before, but not so perfectly scripted to occur 2 hours after the heart doctor visit.
Since it was 60 miles to drive there and since this has occurred before, I did not drop all and fly to her aid.
I knew my niece was probably going there Sunday.)

My mother rightly pointed out that a busy signal is better than no answer.
This would be perfectly true as long as one
(1) did not pick up the phone to call 911, and collapse on the floor before dialing, or
(2) one could count on sitting right next to the phone, since their hearing is so bad that they can not hear the phone ring otherwise.

It is not a perfect world... not by a long chalk.

--

The Great Beauty In Detroit

La Grande Bellezza


We saw this film Sunday past at The Detroit Film Theater (DFT) located at the Detroit Institute Of Arts (DIA).
It was a cold day, with a wind just enough to chill you, but not enough to freeze the slush on the streets. Part of John R street had collapsed behind the DIA; crews were there working. The men were heavily layered and moved like Morlocks with safety vests on. The flaps of the head warmers they wore beneath their hard hats blew back and forth in the wind, slapping their faces, as if the wind itself and the ninja-star-snowflakes it threw at everyone were not enough.
The Scarab Club stood silent and dark, not at all unlike the ironic and dystopic face of the idol that was mounted above the temple where Rod Taylor's time chariot was stored in the film The Time Machine, being an icon so inscrutable and shadowed that one could not foresee whether it be benign or malign... or both, a Kali-like deity of the winter landscape.

The DFT had been re-done. My friend said that they re-gilt the interior golds, which are everywhere according to the roccoco style of the period when the great limestone pile was put up, and I said - in my usual way - that that was the billion that broke the exchequer of the City of Detroit.
(I don't suppose any city money was used in the work; it probably came from DIA endowment funds, or at least funds augmented by the suburbs taxes.)

Once the film began, I immediately thought of Fellini and La Dolce Vita. It was pretty obvious that was the intended effect. It was a phenomenon referred to these days as an homage.
And I concur in this practice of homage. In fact, I have found myself indulging in extensive homages when I write. It used to be called plagiarism, and was troublesome. Now it is a French word, and va bien.


If I take to a life of white-collar crime and counterfeit currency , then when apprehended by the police and questioned, I shall say it is a bagatelle, a mere case of faux-monnayage and I was only indulging in an extended homage to le roman d'André Gide.)

I do not sit well for long periods of time, especially in theater seats that were made for folks that were not so vast athwart the beam, as it were; for beings of lesser girth than we; Procrustean seats into which we are thrust and twisted into unnatural poses... I usually come out of movie theaters looking like some metal work by Max Ernst:

I was in agony for the first 30 minutes or so. I was thinking "Fellini rip-off!", the word homage having fallen out of my vocabulary as my distress mounted.

Then everything changed. I became enchanted.
The montage of Fellini images pointed to the fact that not much had changed in our society in the years since La Dolce Vita; we were still a group of shallow blokes looking for a one-night stand and booze, drugs, and the latest dance craze.
The Fellini homages were a flashback, and a very effective one, I should say.

The color was stunning. I had gotten used to film color that was dull, insipid, and dark; rather as if every film were Underworld: Extinction and dealt with the brutish ways of vampires and their natural-born enemies, the werewolves.
This film has amazing color.
And its use is well controlled. The only vast space of neon is a large Martini sign on the skyline as seen from the digs of the main character. What a relief that is from the Conceits Of Tokyo: the Bladerunner-ish forests of neon who fill the night by emptying it.

A character named Sister Maria is the focus of the end of the film, and she sums up everything when asked for an interview.
I took a vow of poverty.
You do not talk about poverty; you live it.
And this Sister Maria is even more, for as we watch the corybantic and frenzied activity of the upper classes of Rome, we probably feel we are not really part of that shallow existence. But, when we see Sister Maria, we see her to resemble Mother Theresa closely.
This draws us in, for we all have an opinion about Mother Theresa. We have become one with the story now; we did not feel as one with the revellers who party each and every night, but we do have beliefs and judgements about people in the news, and Mother Theresa is the bait which draws us into the trap of enchantment.

And drawn in we most certainly are, for when at last Sister Maria speaks, we are anticipating her to mouth nonsensical platitudes about supernatural beings at best, and to droll inanely at worst.

We anticipate this, because we - although we do not dance all night and sleep all day - we are prisoners of our unexplored, unexamined, and unstudied lives.
We have the illusions of belief which cause us to see Sister Maria as a mimic of Mother Theresa, and we are lead by those illusions to expect her to say that which we have already heard and already accepted or dismissed.

Surprise!

The film was 2 1/2 hours long, and I anticipated at the beginning that I would be leaving on a stretcher. However, the pain was eclipsed by The Great Beauty!

--


Monday, January 27, 2014

The Punctuated Progress Of Free Markets




In the Domestic Encyclopedia, or a Dictionary of Facts, and Useful Knowledge, Volume III, Murray and Highle, published in 1882 and available as a Google ebook, we see the following entry under the title LEAD:

[...]

Lead, when taken or inhaled into the human body, is productive of various fatal disorders, to which miners, potters, and all other persons concerned in its manufacture are peculiarly subject. Hence culinary vessels, or other domestic utensils made of this metal, are highly objectionable, especially if they are intended to contain cyder or other acid liquor. 

In whatever form lead may be introduced into the human body, it is equally deleterious and fatal, whether its vapours be inhaled through the lungs, absorbed through the pores of the skin, or particles of the metal betaken into the stomach. The only effectual antidotes to this Insidious poison are, antimonial emetics; and, after them, die internal use of liver of sulphur, together with vegetable oils, both externally and internally, should be liberally continued...

 The article was published in 1882, yet we still have paints recently used that have contained lead. Recently it has been a gasoline additive , ethyl, that was combusted into the air.

Compare this history to that of asbestos.... or tobacco.

History is repealed when there is profit to be made. The science of the past is forgotten, and what are we but rich and wealthy troglodytes? We think we are progressing, but we are enriching ourselves in one step, while taking four steps backwards in the other important areas of life.,

I hope Climate Science does not eventuate in a similar idiocy.

--

Sunday, January 26, 2014

The Isle Of Pines


There is a certain irony in going on vacation to the Isle of Pines, then finding there is barely enough room to turn around in.

Won't even mention these are deciduous trees here, unless they are stone pines.

--

Friday, January 24, 2014

Net Neutrality

What gives the US Supreme Court the right to undermine Net Neutrality?

The Internet was developed originally by taxpayer money under DARPA, and  in  its entire existence there has been adherence to the Priniciple of Net Neutrality.

In other words, there is ample precedent that the Net be neutral and remain so.

The Conservative Majority on this Court once again has given a free ride to corporate interests, allowing them to transform something that is not theirs to change.

--

Techno-Freckles And Feather-Bedding Advertisements




I am making progress with my new computer.

I have discovered some new things about my Synaptic TouchPad V7.5, and it is working a great deal better. These things are "discovered" because they were not covered in the instructions. It seems to me that one of the major flaws with technology is a strange inability to communicate with precision.

The mathematics, the electrical engineering, the computer science are done extremely well, but the communication with the user seems to be full of gaps and lack of clarity, not to mention that sometimes the technology companies do not seem to have a proper understanding of their products; that is, their products operate within a range of variability, yet they seem to write to me as if everything was exactly that point estimate of exactitude that they set themselves to attain.

Case in point: enlarging or diminishing the display.
The instructions say that you spread your two fingers to enlarge and pinch them to diminish, just as if you were working an iPhone.
However, on my computer, this spreading of the fingers has the effect of letting a lonely bull out into the fields filled with Holsteins; it cannot be easily controlled. Same way for the finger pinch; it rapidly decreases in a Costanza-ish manner that is disconcerting.

However, I have found that using a series of small strokes, either spreading or pinching, controls the movement very well. I estimate that I move the fingers maybe just less than an inch apart or together and things are under control.
And it is not the tip of the finger one uses, rather a portion of the finger tip upon which the fingerprint is.
And for highlighting text, the double tap is nowhere as slow as the instructions indicate; rather, it is a fast double tap - about 3 to 4 times faster -  and then highlight.
There is no mention of any of this in the instructions. In the instructions, it is the best of all possible worlds, sort of like the Speech Recognition tutorial that gets you all enthusiastic about using your voice to control things. There are only so many times one can say "Scroll down" and get an inquiry whether one said "Blow down" or "Flow down", and please say the number of the correct item without becoming despondent.

I bought an HP optical mouse which works well.
We usually sit in a chair to read the news, and we have the laptop recumbent on our laps upon a write/erase board which I drafted for the job of supporting the laptop while allowing air to move freely into the cooling system.
The mouse works very well by just using the arm of the chair as a mouse pad. This surprised me, and I was very happy to see how that worked out. The mouse cost about $15.

My Optical Mouse


I still have a lot of worthless apps cluttering up the start screen.
Reading is getting harder, for the more proficient I become, the faster I go, and I am always ready to jump into an article, but there are so many ads that need to be closed and small Flash videos running somewhere that I have to be patient.
It seems to me that faster processors are needed not just for gaming, but also for mundane tasks, such as reading a news site, because before I can navigate the page, I have to wait for all the techno-skin-tags and techno-freckles to finish loading on the face of the front page.

I mean, I should have bought something that ran close to the speed of IBM's Watson just to read the morning news. I usually go to the first page of an article I wish to read, read the first couple lines, or the first paragraph, then a page down or two-finger scroll to continue, and the thing just sits still as it waits for the feather-bedding advertisements to get their 8 hours in.



I can just hear them:

Registration Advertisement: "Hey! You! Two-Finger Righty! Slow down! Ya wanna ruin this cushy job for the rest of us?!"

Flash Video Ad:  "If you don't slow down, I'll make you crawl! "

--


Thursday, January 23, 2014

Musing About Possession

After my post on "The Gods Of Bubbles", I am "musing" on our times.
We inhabited not a time of emotion, but a time of possession: we are inspired by the powers about us, but we have neglected to take the important precaution of learning how to be virtuous.

Lacking virtue, we are playthings in the hands of the dark gods of fear and hatred.

Virtue actually is its own reward.

--

The Gods Of Bubbles





Reuters
http://www.reuters.com/article/2014/01/23/us-caterpillar-china-special-report-idUSBREA0M03720140123

(Reuters) - Asia's top mergers and acquisitions bankers gathered two years ago at the swanky Island Shangri La in Hong Kong to celebrate the top deals of 2012. As the transactions were being toasted, one was unraveling.
Advisers on Caterpillar Inc's $677 million purchase of ERA Mining Machinery Ltd picked up an award for cross-border deal of the year. The purchase was billed as a coup for Caterpillar, the world's top maker of tractors and excavators. ERA was the holding company for Zhengzhou Siwei Mechanical & Electrical Equipment Manufacturing Co Ltd, one of China's biggest makers of hydraulic coal-mine roof supports. Siwei would help Caterpillar gain traction in the world's largest coal industry. 
"Siwei was going to be our Chinese business card," said a person with direct knowledge of Caterpillar's strategy. 
The night of the awards on November 16 three Caterpillar lawyers were wrapping up an eight-hour grilling of Wang Fu, Siwei's chairman. Major accounting problems had been unearthed at Siwei headquarters in the gritty Chinese city of Zhengzhou. Two months later, on January 18, 2013, Caterpillar said it had discovered "deliberate, multi-year, coordinated accounting misconduct" at Siwei...
 There were a lot of alarms and warnings that were ignored by Caterpillar.

There were in a "bubble" mentality; they were in a rush for the China gold mine of investment; there was "irrational exuberance".

I tend to look at everything as One; I mix everything together, just like the universe is.
To me, Caterpillar in China and Plato's dialogue Io have a lot in common.

I am presently reading Io in Greek. You have to do this because the translations can be so ghastly.
Io is a Homeric rhapsode, that is Io recites the works of Homer - and no one else but Homer - to audiences who gather in whatever cities of Greece he happens to be visiting.

Now if you have any familiarity with Plato, you know that he banned poets from his ideal city-state in his dialogue The Republic.

We should get an idea of why he did that as we read how he roughly handles poor old Io, whom I think he unfairly makes to look buffoonish and loopy, but that's neither here nor there at the moment.
Plato talks of knowledge and art. Art for Plato is not "ART" as we know of it with its own cult. In Plato, blacksmiths, potters, painters, and sculptors are are pliers of their respective arts.

A person who has knowledge of an art - such as an expert in painting - is able to make true statements about the art of all paintings and painters, and is able to say why some painting is good and other is Thomas Kinkade-ish, or even redolent of Red Skelton's "Sad Clown Period".

A poet is a different matter, for the poet plies no art. Rather, the poet is inspired and possessed by a god, the Muse. Just like Pythia at Delphi, the poet cannot control his tongue, and his speech pours forth in fine metrical fashion by the divine force.

Plato uses a great metaphor of a magnet and a series of iron rings.
The magnet attracts an iron ring, then imparts to this ring the ability to magnetize, and a second ring is attached hanging down from the first, then a third is attached, and so on. This creates a chain of rings hanging down from the magnet.
(This is an area where the translation may be so faulty. I have read writings on this which refers to "a magnet and iron filings" which is not at all the metaphor nor point Plato wished to make. We all are familiar with magnets and iron filings, particularly that toy in which we put iron filing hair, eyebrows, and beard on a bald cartoon figure with a bulbous nose... in fact, that guy looks like the first cousin of the poor schlub in the game Operation.)

Plato's point seems to be that the god inspires the poet, and the divine inspiration works through the poet to posses the hearer, who then may repeat the epic poetry to  another hearer, who in turn is possessed of the inspiration, and so on.
I interpret it as the god inspires the poet, who is compelled to create the poetry. That poetry than inspires the rhapsode, Io, and he feels a similar urge to recite the poetry to various people, who themselves are then inspired by sacred Homer.
(What these hearers of Io do in their turn is of no consequence. They probably get up the next morning and look out the window and say something like "O, rosy-fingered dawn!")

The point for me is that Plato has knowledge, or rational behavior. We know from the Symposium he is familiar with emotional behavior.
And here we have inspirational behavior, which is quite different from the other two. And he does not particularly approve.

When he adduces examples of inspired behavior, he uses the Bacchae and the Corybantes, who in a wild frenzy at night draw milk and honey from a babbling brook, which, in the sober light of day, they see as a dribble of a stream that a flock of sheep just urinated in. (This is one of his "iron-fisted insults within a velvet glove" attacks on poor Io, who smiles at it all.)

Plato does not trust Inspiration.

In a rush to invest, Caterpillar used rational approaches and probably emotional ones, too. But they failed as they plunged into a state of "possession" by the Mammon of China Investment.

Rational behavior and Emotional behavior do not explain how sane people connect themselves into a delusory chain of activity, a prison from which there is no escape other than the bursting of the bubble.

We live in a time of Possession.

Who are the gods who posses us?

In the National Geographic, Volume 193, No. 6, June 1998, there is an article on the Raji people of Nepal who inhabit the tarai subtropical forest lands between Nepal and India. They make their livings primarily as hunter-gatherers of honey, for which they scale tall trees, brave the stings of outraged bees, and process the honey to sell it to neighboring villages.



In 1998, times were changing. The lands the Raji inhabited were being opened to farmers and large tracts were being claimed as national park lands.
'Pagou Ram, an elder, describes the fate of 3,000 Raji: "Before we knew where the gods were. They were in the trees. Now there are no trees." '
The gods are the wellsprings of power within life, the things that create and transform, that make life and death and transcend them even then.

I was talking to a friend Tuesday, and she briefly touched on how working by the river affects us. She said it changes your psychology. Or it moves you, affects your soul. Here we see the river as a power, and in old times it would be a god with its own naiads and nymphs.

There are all these things of power within our lives, and they are the gods described by the Raji as well as Plato.
We can chose to live with these powers and be well, or we can - like Caterpillar - allow ourselves to be possessed by these powers for the wrong reasons.

For if Caterpillar had wished more than anything to have a business in China that would benefit the Chinese people and themselves, if they had sought good growth and reasonable investment, rather than idolizing the notion of being in China first and maybe excluding others, they probably would not have stumbled.

So too we all : rational in the ways of the world, using good emotions to give life to the sensitive universe, and being inspired by the powers from which all that is good in life flows.

We receive from the power of God, we love and nurture with what has been given to us, and we are wise and rational husbandmen.

--


How Congress Makes Bills




The Daily Yonder:
 http://www.dailyyonder.com/counties-federal-lands-lose-big/2014/01/21/7138

By now, most people have heard about the various winners and losers in the $1.1 trillion budget passed last week. But what missed the attention of most national media is screaming-mad, front-page news all across the West.

Congress did not fund payments-in-lieu-of-taxes, or PILT. PILT payments for this year – which began in October – were to be $400 million divided among 1,850 counties containing federal land...

Example after example fills state and local media as counties try to scramble to figure out how to keep operating without these crucial funds...

Yes, small Western towns, but in reality close to half the land area of the U.S. just got a funding cut. Money used for emergency services, search and rescue, roads, law enforcement, education and other essential programs have not been funded.

PILT has been funded since 1976 as a way to compensate counties and local governments for the federal public lands they contain, because those lands are exempt from paying taxes. PILT payments and non-payments affect counties across most of the U.S. but especially the West and Alaska...


Yep. Congress forgot close to half the land area of the USA.

--

Antibiotic Resistant Denialists


Pig Farm With Manure Ponds


The FDA wants to force companies that use triclosan in hand soaps to prove their case that their products safely kill germs and do not cause the proliferation of anti-biotic resistant bacteria.

Meanwhile, Big Agriculture forces antibiotics down the throats of pigs and chickens on a massive scale, keeps the animals sequestered together until it is slaughtering time, and spreads their manure as fertilizer over neighboring farmlands.

Well, do you get more problems from a bunch of individuals washing their hands a couple times a day, or do you get more trouble from a immense hot house breeding ground of antibiotic use?

Let's appoint a commission, then argue about the science, possibly getting up an "Antibiotic Resistance Denial" faction in the "conservative" minds of the country.

http://www.wired.com/wiredscience/2014/01/mrsa-col-cafo/

--

Fracking



Apparently, tap water does indeed ignite, but it may not be due to fracking, but instead the excess amounts of phlogiston within the aquifers from which the locals draw their water.

http://www.wired.com/rawfile/2014/01/marcellus-shale-documentary-project/

--

Sunday, January 19, 2014

An American Tragedy


Thumbs Up For Acceptable Kill Rates



In the past week, some children have been shot.

In most of the world, you have to look for places where there are wars and rebellions and particularly child soldiers fighting to find comparable statistics.

Here, however, these statistics of mortality are acceptable under the Anarchy of Weaponized Society.
There is a vast difference between bearing arms and properly bearing arms.

How does one properly bear arms?

I believe the Second Amendment states it:
A well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.
Therefore, one properly bears arms if the intention of the weapon's owner is to be part of a well regulated militia.
A well regulated militia is one which is properly regulated.
Thus, the proper use of arms should be part of the regulation exercised by the well regulated militia.
(The militia may be regulated from above by governmental authorities, but it may also regulate to those below under its militia authority; regulation runs both ways.)

A well regulated militia does not carry arms into neighborhood art fairs, nor do they hide loaded weapons under a bed when the grandkids come over to visit.

--

Perfectly Said





Remember the film Privilege?
Was it not a fascist dream-forecast?
Heroes and heroines are created from their  arduous efforts and their relationship with other people. Anything that seeks to create heroic-celebrity for some commercial purpose creates mock heroes and heroines.

Any Narrative that emulates a long-term epic story must have a foundation and goal greater than greed and acquisitiveness.
Otherwise, it does a Lindsey Lohan, a Brittany, a Michael Richards...
Money is not the proper pedestal for culture heroic figures.

Mother Jones
http://www.motherjones.com/media/2014/01/joseph-gordon-levitt-interview-hitrecord-tv-pivot-fascist-cult-celebrity
Joseph Gordon-Levitt's Dream Project: Toppling the "Fascist Cult of Celebrity"
"With this show, I'm not gonna look down on people and declare them the audience and say that I'm the performer."

... The show also serves as Gordon-Levitt's respite from the Hollywood hype machine. He's been stalked and hounded about homosexuality rumors, and has called celeb-tabloid culture "evil and poisonous." He's slammed various news channels as being infected with the strain of show biz, equating them to "some bullshit entertainment show." Now he's hoping to leverage what he once called the "fascist cult of celebrity" to his advantage...

--

Climate Change Business

Businessmen Making Decisions About The North Wind


Climate Change is a proposition that we may assign a certain probability to.

With Climate Change, there are risks and uncertainties. How do we make decisions with risk and uncertainty?
We do it all the time in business.

Climate Change should be handled as a business situation - an approach I think many insurers have already taken.
By turning it into a political situation, we have turned it into the usual political buffoonery, and obliterated all discussion of risk, uncertainty, and planning.

One of the first steps is to realize that very few propositions attain 100% certainty. Only death and taxes, so we make a decision to do our taxes and we make our wills based on 100% certainty.
In all other fields, we deal with varying amounts of uncertainty.
We should be able to quantify it and deal with Climate Change in the same way: intelligently.

Apply the probabilities to the risks and see what the future holds; a risk of a loss of $1,000 trillion dollars with a certainty of 50% means we should reasonably expect a 0.50 x $1,000 trillion = $ 500 trillion dollar loss sometime in the future.
The present value of that loss is pretty big, given the low interest rates and depending on how far into the future we are projecting.

Let's make a business decision for our future!

--

The Decline And Fall Of Blogger 2

Recent Blogs of Note More »

i suwannee
Skipjack's Nautical Living


I have had this display on my dashboard for the past 5 years.

I think I've proved my point.

And I do not like Skipjack anymore. He has become arrogant.
I feel like Squidward does when Sponge Bob Squarepants is Employee Of The Month again for 52 months running.

--

Windows 8 Laptography

Getting Along In Windows 8



I am actually getting along with Windows 8. That's why The Beagle Boys have taken over from Goofy in the photo. Our plans of world domination are getting back on track.

By learning key stroke controls and using speech recognition and the quirky touchpad on my HP machine, I am getting in control.
I may spring for an optical mouse for less than $20.

My HomeGroup is established, and I am working on a plan for archiving past, present, and future which will probably include a Terabyte external HD for backups and long-term storage.

At this moment, I am working on my old machine. When I am done writing this, I will bring the new one in an try an take a photo with it web cam. Then I will transfer it via the HomeGroup Network to this machine, and you can see the Rube Goldberg set-up I've had since Christmas:
Old Reliable - a Lenovo - whose display hinges gave out, so I used small C-clamps to apply enough pressure for them to hold the screen up again. My wife over-tightened one of these, causing the screen to crack , and I had to connect it to an old HPw2007 monitor witha VGA cable just to see things.
The laptop battery is totally toast and only works with a direct supply of electricity, and the monitor has an iffy power connection which, once you have the power cord jiggled around into the right position, you try not to touch it again.

I shall add the photo to this post later today, so check back later for the steampunk laptop show.

I did not opt for TouchScreen, and I am glad I did not do so.
I have enough issues stemming from my posture while doing my Laptography (Plato's and Aristotle's expression for "writing while using a laptop or tablet"... pronounced lap-TO-graph-y... the final "p" in "laptop" is elided).

I really doubt that I could put up with even more slouching forward even the few millimeters needed to interact with the screen. I think I would be better off to learn touch typing. There are a host of ergonomic issues in all this.
That's why when the concept of Google glasses was floated about 7 years ago, I thought it was sometimes a great notion.

--

Snapshot of old Lenovo





The glare on the large monitor is reflection.
The white on the laptop monitor is parts of a messed up screen.
Notice the C-clamp 0n the right.

--

What I Like To Read: Kommersant



The Russian website Kommersant is very good, and provides different viewpoints and insights into the affairs of the world.
It is a good read.

A long time ago, 2002 to be exact, I caught on to how things went in the US media, when we patriotically stood up and sang alongside our British kin:



Propaganda! May it rule thee airwaves!
We wish to be blind, obedyent slaves!

--




Gates Tells All !



There is a similarity between Robert M. Gates, rushing to the publisher, and Edward Snowden, is there not?

Both were operating under an assumed level of secrecy and discretion, and both contravened that secrecy for what they both perceived as important reasons.

--

Saturday, January 18, 2014

The Proof Of The Phoney Beggar




I had a post 'Tis The Season To Be Marley in which the following occurs:


"She filled out some detail for me of the whole affair of her trip to Chicago two years ago in even more ghastly detail:
"I mean, Montag, you could look through the windows and see white people with their little girls all dressed up for Christmas tea, and right next to you outside there was a young black mother with three kids sitting on the sidewalk, holding a sign saying 'Help me feed my family.' "
She did not think I could take the Real Dickensian, the horrible irony of Wealth against Grinding Poverty. She thought I would start dreaming of the arrogance of the masters of the world who built the Tower of Babel. I might act up rough, and go all prophet, denouncing Dives taking tea while Lazarus starves."


Someone tells me the story of the beggar lady who, as 6 o'clock comes, straightens up, puts her cane over her shoulder and struts home to her place in the suburbs: a case where an able-bodied person is shamming disability and poverty and making a good living at it.

I sort of stared at them when they finished.
I mean, what does one say?

What does one say when confronted by someone who argues from one specific case to a general normative law?
There are beggars;
There is at least one phoney beggar;
Therefore, all beggars are phoney.

I mean, the overpowering smell of the illogical nature of it all.
Dr. McCoy - Bones, if you will - often disagreed with Mr. Spock about his emphasis on logic, but I think even Bones would say that it is most definitely "Illogical!"

--

Brace Yourselves

Robert Gates



Karl von Clausewitz


Joachim Murat


Paul von Hindenburg


Auguste de Marmont


Erich Ludendorff


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