If same sex marriage is legalized no church or religious institution will have to recognise or perform a marriage that they do not approve. Unless of course they want to keep their tax-exempt status. That would be a problem. Church leaders do not want to have their morality dictated by the American public. Understandable, I don't let the American public dictate my morality. But I pay taxes. Church fathers would have to choose between "moral superiority" and "free money". They do all the time but they don't like having to make their choice a matter of public record.
This is the difficulty you get into when as an organization you accept large sums of money from outside sources. In this case millions from the U. S. government, actually from the general public. Pretty soon that outside source is going to start dictating to you. And you will be dependant on the money, totally unable to refuse. Happens all the time. It happened to PBS when they started taking millions from Mobil Oil. What was once the voice of the public is now just another soulless, gutless, money grubbing, advertising driven TV network wholly controlled by the giant corporations that they suckle from.
Jesus said "Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's." Or you can get into bed with Caesar and be his whore.
Religion is about belief. Belief in a god or other metaphysical philosophy. So churches should not get a pass from the IRS. For the government to give religious institutions tax exemptions they have to define religion. They have to define what it means to "believe". Is that the job of government? And for a church to take the tax exemption is for them to let the IRS dictate morality.
I am in a heterosexual marriage and we take our two exemptions.
OWL
April 29 2007
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Friday, April 27, 2007
Parenting 101
A few days ago I was out of the house for awhile. When I came in my wife said to me, "DW wanted to use my credit card to by a sage plant off the net so I let him. He gave me the $60.00 cash. It seemed odd so I looked at the web site and it said SAGE so I guess it is ok."
It seemed odd? Here is a fourteen year old boy who has never even sprouted a seed for a science project, he gripes when asked to water the house plants and detests having to help out in the garden. And now he wants to spend $60 on a plant. A sage plant. You can get a sage plant for $2.49 at the nursery. I have one in the garden. Odd indeed.
I am not getting the whole story. I question DW about it but get no real information. But since Misses B. OK'ed the deal it must be alright. Maybe it is some kind of fancy plant that he is buying for a gift for his mother or myself. I decide on a wait and see approach.
Some times I get the feeling that Misses B. thinks my parental skills are lacking. That I am not strict enough, that's not how it was at her house. Or that I am not vigilant. I let things get past me. Maybe.
So the plant arrives in a small box. Must be some fancy plant. $60.00 for that little thing. Maybe it is some kind of Bonsai with a nice planter. So I open it up and out comes this little shriveled up, nondescript minty looking thing in a four inch plastic pot. Curiouser indeed!
Next step. I get the company name off the box and Google it. Turns out to be a company that sells Salvia divinorum and related products. For the uninitiated Salvia divinorum is a plant native to Central America used by Mayan priests to induce trace like states and visions. It effects include loss of body control, dizziness, hearing voices, visual hallucinations, loss of speech, out-of-body experiences, and perceived contact with other worldly beings.
This is not the kind of stuff I want my child messing around with. And indeed the web site states that they will not sell to minors. The plant is being returned, DW is out $60.
So now I am upset with myself for letting this "get past me". Oh yes and a wee bit angry with DW.
We are going to have have a little talk when he gets in...
OWL
April 27 2007
It seemed odd? Here is a fourteen year old boy who has never even sprouted a seed for a science project, he gripes when asked to water the house plants and detests having to help out in the garden. And now he wants to spend $60 on a plant. A sage plant. You can get a sage plant for $2.49 at the nursery. I have one in the garden. Odd indeed.
I am not getting the whole story. I question DW about it but get no real information. But since Misses B. OK'ed the deal it must be alright. Maybe it is some kind of fancy plant that he is buying for a gift for his mother or myself. I decide on a wait and see approach.
Some times I get the feeling that Misses B. thinks my parental skills are lacking. That I am not strict enough, that's not how it was at her house. Or that I am not vigilant. I let things get past me. Maybe.
So the plant arrives in a small box. Must be some fancy plant. $60.00 for that little thing. Maybe it is some kind of Bonsai with a nice planter. So I open it up and out comes this little shriveled up, nondescript minty looking thing in a four inch plastic pot. Curiouser indeed!
Next step. I get the company name off the box and Google it. Turns out to be a company that sells Salvia divinorum and related products. For the uninitiated Salvia divinorum is a plant native to Central America used by Mayan priests to induce trace like states and visions. It effects include loss of body control, dizziness, hearing voices, visual hallucinations, loss of speech, out-of-body experiences, and perceived contact with other worldly beings.
This is not the kind of stuff I want my child messing around with. And indeed the web site states that they will not sell to minors. The plant is being returned, DW is out $60.
So now I am upset with myself for letting this "get past me". Oh yes and a wee bit angry with DW.
We are going to have have a little talk when he gets in...
OWL
April 27 2007
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Let's play post office
I used to work in a post office. A little tiny post office in a little tiny town. Really the post office was about ten by fifteen feet and the sign at the edge of town said "Pop 165". The post office boxes were outside and the there was a dutch door on the front. The top of the door would be open and the bottom had a wide board on it that served as the counter. Some of the townsfolk would come by every day and ask for their mail. Our regulars. Others were more like once a week. Some residents had post office boxes in the next town and some just checked the mail after hours so we hardly ever saw them. But just about everyone came by sometime, to buy stamps or mail a package. And I knew them all by name. I knew were they worked and who they were married to or shacked up with. I knew their children and if there was a birth or death in the family I heard about it. If you had a birthday coming up I would say "Happy birthday!" when I handed you your stack of birthday cards. People would stand there at the window and tell us all the news of thier families and the local gossip. Then they would ask for the low down, the real story, behind some rumour they had heard. Usually the change in ownership of a local business, small town not a lot of exciting stuff going on. The reply was always the same, "I don't know." The rules were clear for the two or three of us that took turns manning the post, you can listen but you can not talk. Anything we found out working in the office was to be considered "classified", "top secret", not to be passed on. Period. Spreading gossip from from the PO would be grounds for dismissal.
And in our little community it would have taken exactly 16 seconds for the boss to hear about it if I wagged my tongue.
Owl
April 25, 2007
And in our little community it would have taken exactly 16 seconds for the boss to hear about it if I wagged my tongue.
Owl
April 25, 2007
Monday, April 23, 2007
Good Knight
"Dad let's go to the hardware store and get the stuff to make chain mail."
My fourteen year old son had his laptop taken away and was looking for something to occupy his time. Oh course he had gotten this idea off the net.
"Making chain mail is labor intensive. It takes hours and hours linking together these little rings. You've never had the patience for that kind of work!" I held my tongue, I didn't want to discourage him if he wanted to start something creative. I tried a different tack, "Do you know how much stuff it would take and how much it would cost?"
"Yeah it's all right here. A couple pairs of pliers, wire cutters, steel rod and some wire. About $30." He showed me the plans on the web site.
"Well no one ever bought me the stuff to do crafts with!" This was unfair on my part and somewhat of an exaggeration. It brought up a hurt from long ago. I wasn't able to ask my father for stuff like this. It's not that he wouldn't get it for me, I just didn't feel like I could ask. Plus I didn't believe he would be willing to help me with my projects. "You got money. Why don't you buy it yourself?"
"OK", the kid has answers for every thing. You might have guessed by now that I just didn't want to be bothered. Running around and trying to find the stuff on the list, clearing a space in the shop to work and building a jig for making the necessary rings. Then helping him figure out the process. I'm starting to understand my dad a little better.
"Well if you are really interested in doing this ask me next weekend." I thought that would be the end of it. Next weekend he would on to something new like finding hidden sexual references in old copies of Mad magazine, or more likely, trying to get his laptop back. Optimistic I know but he is my first child and I am still learning.
Later that same day, "Can we go to the hardware store now?" "Can we go to hardware store later?" And the next morning before church, "When can we go to the hardware store?"
"After church, OK? Just quit bugging me about it." I like it when people don't give up. I taught my wife if she really wants it to keep asking or better yet keep telling. I respect those who know what they want and are willing to fight for it. Drives me nuts but it works. I had tried to get out of going to church because I was on vacation. My wife insisted, hummm?
So we go into the store and get the pliers, wire cutters (also known as bull dikes), a one half by fourteen inch bolt for the "steel rod" and a roll of twelve gauge wire. The only roll of wire they had was this monster about two feet across, enough to make armor for the next crusade.
"Do you have enough money to pay for all this?"
"I got thirty bucks."
Total, $29.70. The plastic stayed in my pocket. Maybe this won't be so painful. Back in the shop making the jig went quickly and after a little trial and screw up we were turning out rings with production line efficiency. Winding the wire around the bolt, even with the jig, was a two man operation and we had to improvise a speed wrench for a handle. The instructions had called for wire cutters for clipping off the rings. Maybe a bull dyke can cut twelve gauge that way, I can't. Luckily I had a pair of bolt cutters. So we spent a couple hours learning to process raw wire into protection from pointy objects. Together we twisted the rings, I snapped them off and he linked them up.
I sent DW home with a pile of rings, a new hobby to keep him busy so that he doesn't get into trouble again and maybe a positive experience.
It was for me.
OWL
April 23, 2007
My fourteen year old son had his laptop taken away and was looking for something to occupy his time. Oh course he had gotten this idea off the net.
"Making chain mail is labor intensive. It takes hours and hours linking together these little rings. You've never had the patience for that kind of work!" I held my tongue, I didn't want to discourage him if he wanted to start something creative. I tried a different tack, "Do you know how much stuff it would take and how much it would cost?"
"Yeah it's all right here. A couple pairs of pliers, wire cutters, steel rod and some wire. About $30." He showed me the plans on the web site.
"Well no one ever bought me the stuff to do crafts with!" This was unfair on my part and somewhat of an exaggeration. It brought up a hurt from long ago. I wasn't able to ask my father for stuff like this. It's not that he wouldn't get it for me, I just didn't feel like I could ask. Plus I didn't believe he would be willing to help me with my projects. "You got money. Why don't you buy it yourself?"
"OK", the kid has answers for every thing. You might have guessed by now that I just didn't want to be bothered. Running around and trying to find the stuff on the list, clearing a space in the shop to work and building a jig for making the necessary rings. Then helping him figure out the process. I'm starting to understand my dad a little better.
"Well if you are really interested in doing this ask me next weekend." I thought that would be the end of it. Next weekend he would on to something new like finding hidden sexual references in old copies of Mad magazine, or more likely, trying to get his laptop back. Optimistic I know but he is my first child and I am still learning.
Later that same day, "Can we go to the hardware store now?" "Can we go to hardware store later?" And the next morning before church, "When can we go to the hardware store?"
"After church, OK? Just quit bugging me about it." I like it when people don't give up. I taught my wife if she really wants it to keep asking or better yet keep telling. I respect those who know what they want and are willing to fight for it. Drives me nuts but it works. I had tried to get out of going to church because I was on vacation. My wife insisted, hummm?
So we go into the store and get the pliers, wire cutters (also known as bull dikes), a one half by fourteen inch bolt for the "steel rod" and a roll of twelve gauge wire. The only roll of wire they had was this monster about two feet across, enough to make armor for the next crusade.
"Do you have enough money to pay for all this?"
"I got thirty bucks."
Total, $29.70. The plastic stayed in my pocket. Maybe this won't be so painful. Back in the shop making the jig went quickly and after a little trial and screw up we were turning out rings with production line efficiency. Winding the wire around the bolt, even with the jig, was a two man operation and we had to improvise a speed wrench for a handle. The instructions had called for wire cutters for clipping off the rings. Maybe a bull dyke can cut twelve gauge that way, I can't. Luckily I had a pair of bolt cutters. So we spent a couple hours learning to process raw wire into protection from pointy objects. Together we twisted the rings, I snapped them off and he linked them up.
I sent DW home with a pile of rings, a new hobby to keep him busy so that he doesn't get into trouble again and maybe a positive experience.
It was for me.
OWL
April 23, 2007
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Day Five
Today is Sunday, the last day of five days off. The longest time off I've had since I started this job a year and a half ago. My intention was to spend some time in the garden and some time in the shop. I did do a lot in the garden but not what I expected. The weather turned cold the first day so I didn't plant so much as I had hoped. And it is hard for me to get real enthused about the garden when it is so cold. It even frosted the one night and I lost some plants. That's OK, because of the warm weather I had planted about a month early. I knew I was taking a chance, I would have covered things up but the weather report said it wasn't going to get that cold. Never trust the weatherman with your dreams. My son and I went out yesterday and got a drainage ditch dug around the corner of the garden. He did most of the digging, he is bigger than I am. It has been cloudy on and off for the last five days, they kept saying it was going to rain, but it didn't. Until today. We got a good soaking rain today. I went out to garden earlier and stood there in the rain watching the water flow down through the new ditch. It is working great! The rain is so nice, we need the water here in the Sierras.
So I have been sitting here in front of the monitor, listening to the rain and the click clack of the keys. Taking to Le-animal on the phone and drinking hot tea. My favorite drink. Tea hot or cold. And honing my writing skills. Getting frustrated about two things. One, my very slow typing. Up until now my slow typing was OK because I didn't have much to say and I spent a lot of time thinking about how I wanted to say it. Two trying to write in a manner different than what I am used to. More of a stream of conciseness type thing. More about what I am doing and feeling and thinking right now!
Well I got to wrap this up and take the loving family to church!
OWL
April 22, 2007
So I have been sitting here in front of the monitor, listening to the rain and the click clack of the keys. Taking to Le-animal on the phone and drinking hot tea. My favorite drink. Tea hot or cold. And honing my writing skills. Getting frustrated about two things. One, my very slow typing. Up until now my slow typing was OK because I didn't have much to say and I spent a lot of time thinking about how I wanted to say it. Two trying to write in a manner different than what I am used to. More of a stream of conciseness type thing. More about what I am doing and feeling and thinking right now!
Well I got to wrap this up and take the loving family to church!
OWL
April 22, 2007
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Junior High
"If I were to give you a homework assignment."
Black Eyed Susan's office is comfortable and inviting. The abstract fish hanging over the deep plush couch, the lush green palm blocking the window and the ever changing banzai trees. This week an upright Japanese Maple with gaping scar down the trunk. Fitting for an office where we mortals with psychological wounds come to be healed.
My back stiffened and I looked into Susan's eyes, they're not really black. Long repressed memories of little desks, tedious lectures and clocks with frozen hands tried to crack the rapport I have with my therapist. Those two words "homework assignment".
"You don't want to do that!" I thought it. I didn't say it. We kept talking about my writing, about how difficult it is for me to write about me. My life and my emotions. My breathing slowed and I relaxed. Years of bad teaching and dense classmates no longer rule my attitude toward learning. Suzi gave me the assignment.
"Put yourself into your writing. I would like to read where you are, what you are doing and how it makes you feel."
So here I am trying to put it all down. Still having trouble writing with the sense of immediacy and intimacy that I find appealing other writers blogs. I plan to work on that by writing about my garden, my job, my relationship with the wife and kid. And my other hobbies. All with an emphasis on being true to myself.
BES's deep plush couch is one of the most awkward pieces of furniture I ever had to sit on....
OWL
April 21, 2007
Black Eyed Susan's office is comfortable and inviting. The abstract fish hanging over the deep plush couch, the lush green palm blocking the window and the ever changing banzai trees. This week an upright Japanese Maple with gaping scar down the trunk. Fitting for an office where we mortals with psychological wounds come to be healed.
My back stiffened and I looked into Susan's eyes, they're not really black. Long repressed memories of little desks, tedious lectures and clocks with frozen hands tried to crack the rapport I have with my therapist. Those two words "homework assignment".
"You don't want to do that!" I thought it. I didn't say it. We kept talking about my writing, about how difficult it is for me to write about me. My life and my emotions. My breathing slowed and I relaxed. Years of bad teaching and dense classmates no longer rule my attitude toward learning. Suzi gave me the assignment.
"Put yourself into your writing. I would like to read where you are, what you are doing and how it makes you feel."
So here I am trying to put it all down. Still having trouble writing with the sense of immediacy and intimacy that I find appealing other writers blogs. I plan to work on that by writing about my garden, my job, my relationship with the wife and kid. And my other hobbies. All with an emphasis on being true to myself.
BES's deep plush couch is one of the most awkward pieces of furniture I ever had to sit on....
OWL
April 21, 2007
Friday, April 13, 2007
Friday 13
I've never been a superstitious person. If you have been reading this blog for a while you know I tend not to believe in things for which there is no hard evidence. I've been that way every since they told me there was no Santa Claus. I had seen Santa Claus. Well fool me once and all that.
Witch Doctors (and Md's) find that their magic has no affect on those that don't believe in it. Politicians are beginning to run into the same problem, their spells aren't working because no one believes any more. There was a time when an office seeker would stand up in front of a wide eyed partisan audience and recite the sacred Mumbo-Jumbo. "Lower Taxes", "Higher Wages", "Better Schools", "Safer Streets", "Honor, Truth, Justice", "Amer-Patiro-God-ApplePi-icanism". The people would listen enthralled and then rush out to vote in great numbers, roboticly checking the party-line boxes, secure in the knowledge that their homes and checkbooks would be safe for another four years.
That was back when we were innocent, the private lives of politicians were private and everyone knew who the enemy was. TV was back and white because we wanted it that way. Years of anti-communist cold war propaganda had destroyed the ability of our cerebral cortexes to perceive color or grasp logical concepts related to international political realities. Life was simple. Dad worked nine to five and smoked Pall Malls, mom made cookies and sewed Easter dresses for the girls. Every free citizen of the United States felt it was his duty and his God given right to vote.
Now days thirty-five percent turn out on election day is considered "good". When half the people vote it is not because the populace has been inspired by fiery speeches delivered by popular and charismatic candidates. It is because of some issue of vital national importance is on the ballot. Like same sex marriage or the right to bare arms and midriffs. We no longer vote for the man who is going to make our lives match our expectations. We vote for the man (or woman) who will do the least damage. We vote against the least ungodly candidate. In the next election many voters will opt for the candidate who has been married the fewest times.
I miss Leave It To Beaver.
Owl
April, 13 2007
Witch Doctors (and Md's) find that their magic has no affect on those that don't believe in it. Politicians are beginning to run into the same problem, their spells aren't working because no one believes any more. There was a time when an office seeker would stand up in front of a wide eyed partisan audience and recite the sacred Mumbo-Jumbo. "Lower Taxes", "Higher Wages", "Better Schools", "Safer Streets", "Honor, Truth, Justice", "Amer-Patiro-God-ApplePi-icanism". The people would listen enthralled and then rush out to vote in great numbers, roboticly checking the party-line boxes, secure in the knowledge that their homes and checkbooks would be safe for another four years.
That was back when we were innocent, the private lives of politicians were private and everyone knew who the enemy was. TV was back and white because we wanted it that way. Years of anti-communist cold war propaganda had destroyed the ability of our cerebral cortexes to perceive color or grasp logical concepts related to international political realities. Life was simple. Dad worked nine to five and smoked Pall Malls, mom made cookies and sewed Easter dresses for the girls. Every free citizen of the United States felt it was his duty and his God given right to vote.
Now days thirty-five percent turn out on election day is considered "good". When half the people vote it is not because the populace has been inspired by fiery speeches delivered by popular and charismatic candidates. It is because of some issue of vital national importance is on the ballot. Like same sex marriage or the right to bare arms and midriffs. We no longer vote for the man who is going to make our lives match our expectations. We vote for the man (or woman) who will do the least damage. We vote against the least ungodly candidate. In the next election many voters will opt for the candidate who has been married the fewest times.
I miss Leave It To Beaver.
Owl
April, 13 2007
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Puddles
Someone at the meeting last night said, "Oh yeah and it rained today. I think."
Yes the sky had clouded over, the heavens opened up and this miraculous liquid that sustains all life poured out onto the ground in great quantities. Water. Pure. Clean. Fresh water. The same stuff they charge $3.00 a bottle for at special events. Just coming down from the sky, running off roof tops, gurgling through down spouts and draining into manholes. Watering the grass and the trees and the flowers and the weeds. Water. Cleaning the air, washing the dust and pollen from houses and cars and making the world bright and fresh and wholesome.
"Oh yeah, it rained today."
OWL
April 12, 2007
Yes the sky had clouded over, the heavens opened up and this miraculous liquid that sustains all life poured out onto the ground in great quantities. Water. Pure. Clean. Fresh water. The same stuff they charge $3.00 a bottle for at special events. Just coming down from the sky, running off roof tops, gurgling through down spouts and draining into manholes. Watering the grass and the trees and the flowers and the weeds. Water. Cleaning the air, washing the dust and pollen from houses and cars and making the world bright and fresh and wholesome.
"Oh yeah, it rained today."
OWL
April 12, 2007
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
I put a spell on you
I think I was in first grade when my teacher wrote the word "neighbor" up on the black board. "That's it", I said to myself, "I give up. The way English words are spelled makes no sense. I am not even going to try learn this idiotic stuff!" Math was much more logical and I was very good at it. Back in kindergarten they had taught us our letters and the sounds that they represent. A makes an "a" sound, b makes a "b", on through c, d, e and all the way to z. Then in first grade we found out that those sounds were just a suggestion. The sounds represented by the letters in a word may or may not have any correlation with what we were previously taught. G might mean "j", c could mean "ess" or it could mean "ka". Combinations of letters were even worse. Ph for "f", ti for "sh" and gh for whatever, like the "y" sound in neighbor.
That's of course if the letter represents any sound at all. "Silent letters" are sprinkled freely throughout the language. First the teacher introduced the silent "e", telling us that it is there to indicate that the previous vowel is pronounced with a long vowel sound. Made sense. But then other silent letters are introduced with no rhyme or reason. Lamb, fillet and through have silent letters at the end. Herb has one at the beginning.
Later on, about in the sixth grade, we were taught that the reason for variation in English spellings was the fact that some of the words came from different languages. Especially french. And so we have words like "bouquet" and "tomb". From the Greek we get words like "psyche"and "graphic". Now the French were not exactly the best people to borrow spellings from, they spell "o", "eau". Which is also how they spell "u". The explanation is nonsense anyway, there are lots of french words that have been given English spellings, like "flute". And words from other languages are always given English spellings, words like "judo" from Japanese and "glasnost" from Russian. Are we holding on to the arcane spellings for sentimental reasons?
No I think the real reason for the variations in spellings is a vast institutional conspiracy. From the top where professors with PhDs. in English at Oxford write dictionaries all the way down to the bottom where my first grade teacher threw various pronunciations at us daily there is an insidious deliberate attempt to muddle the language and make it more difficult to comprehend. Job security. English is a hard language to learn to read and write. They want it that way. And they have every since the English threw the French out. School headmasters at that time realized they were sitting on a gold mine and decided to milk it. So here we are to day.
Even the "rules" they give us to help make it easier to remember how to spell words are not consistent. "I before e except after c."
It's their rule.
OWL
April 11, 2007
That's of course if the letter represents any sound at all. "Silent letters" are sprinkled freely throughout the language. First the teacher introduced the silent "e", telling us that it is there to indicate that the previous vowel is pronounced with a long vowel sound. Made sense. But then other silent letters are introduced with no rhyme or reason. Lamb, fillet and through have silent letters at the end. Herb has one at the beginning.
Later on, about in the sixth grade, we were taught that the reason for variation in English spellings was the fact that some of the words came from different languages. Especially french. And so we have words like "bouquet" and "tomb". From the Greek we get words like "psyche"and "graphic". Now the French were not exactly the best people to borrow spellings from, they spell "o", "eau". Which is also how they spell "u". The explanation is nonsense anyway, there are lots of french words that have been given English spellings, like "flute". And words from other languages are always given English spellings, words like "judo" from Japanese and "glasnost" from Russian. Are we holding on to the arcane spellings for sentimental reasons?
No I think the real reason for the variations in spellings is a vast institutional conspiracy. From the top where professors with PhDs. in English at Oxford write dictionaries all the way down to the bottom where my first grade teacher threw various pronunciations at us daily there is an insidious deliberate attempt to muddle the language and make it more difficult to comprehend. Job security. English is a hard language to learn to read and write. They want it that way. And they have every since the English threw the French out. School headmasters at that time realized they were sitting on a gold mine and decided to milk it. So here we are to day.
Even the "rules" they give us to help make it easier to remember how to spell words are not consistent. "I before e except after c."
It's their rule.
OWL
April 11, 2007
Sunday, April 8, 2007
I CAN SEE MY OWN ARSE
"Hindsight is twenty-twenty."
That's why wars hardly ever happen and never between two counties that have fought before. That's why the divorce rate is so low. And why you never hear of anyone who has been divorced twice.
"Hindsight is twenty-twenty."
Ask ten people, "What just happened here?" You will get ten different responses. People tend to hear what they want to hear and see what they want to see. Their memories are even more selective. After hearing and seeing only what they wanted then they remember things with the same faithfulness to reality. And memories change over time. Clear memories fade and fuzzy ones are sharpened on the whet stone of the imagination.
Ever have a conservation of seemingly little importance and then get into a argument about it latter.
"You didn't tell that we were going to your mom's house for dinner."
"I thought I did."
"Well you didn't."
"Yes I did."
"When."
"Yesterday at lunch. I said "Were going to mom's for dinner". I know I said it I remember it clearly now!"
Yeah. Our memory plays tricks on us and we play tricks with our memories. The brain is much more useful that way than tape recorders. What's in the brain can be easily edited for our convenience.
"Hindsight is twenty-twenty."
Which makes me wonder why I do the same stupid stuff over and over.
"Hindsight is twenty-twenty."
I can tell you exactly where you went wrong.
"Hindsight is twenty-twenty."
We can avoid this problem in the future if you just do what I tell you.
"Hindsight is twenty-twenty."
It wasn't my fault."
"Hindsight is twenty-twenty."
I can see my own ass.
OWL
April 8, 2007
That's why wars hardly ever happen and never between two counties that have fought before. That's why the divorce rate is so low. And why you never hear of anyone who has been divorced twice.
"Hindsight is twenty-twenty."
Ask ten people, "What just happened here?" You will get ten different responses. People tend to hear what they want to hear and see what they want to see. Their memories are even more selective. After hearing and seeing only what they wanted then they remember things with the same faithfulness to reality. And memories change over time. Clear memories fade and fuzzy ones are sharpened on the whet stone of the imagination.
Ever have a conservation of seemingly little importance and then get into a argument about it latter.
"You didn't tell that we were going to your mom's house for dinner."
"I thought I did."
"Well you didn't."
"Yes I did."
"When."
"Yesterday at lunch. I said "Were going to mom's for dinner". I know I said it I remember it clearly now!"
Yeah. Our memory plays tricks on us and we play tricks with our memories. The brain is much more useful that way than tape recorders. What's in the brain can be easily edited for our convenience.
"Hindsight is twenty-twenty."
Which makes me wonder why I do the same stupid stuff over and over.
"Hindsight is twenty-twenty."
I can tell you exactly where you went wrong.
"Hindsight is twenty-twenty."
We can avoid this problem in the future if you just do what I tell you.
"Hindsight is twenty-twenty."
It wasn't my fault."
"Hindsight is twenty-twenty."
I can see my own ass.
OWL
April 8, 2007
Saturday, April 7, 2007
The Beginning
"It stated with the Bees. One day the beekeeper went out and the bees were all gone. No dead bodies nothing, the hive was just empty. All across the country the same thing. The bees had simply disappeared."
Is it a science fiction short story or a real life scenario? The beginning of the end. It starts with something strange and at first seemingly insignificant. A minor species just disappears. Weather it is caused by bacterial, parasitic or viral infection is unknown. Or could it be something stranger and unheard of? A species wide genetic mutation that suddenly manifest its self in a manner similar to a computer virus. What ever it is scientist are baffled. We are helpless to stop the extinction.
Then it is the cats. Thousands of cats mysteriously die of kidney failure and veterinarians are unsure of the cause. The poisonous chemical, melamine is found built up in their kidneys but no one knows if is the cause or a symptom. Wheat gluten is found to be contaminated with melamine and no one can find the source of the contamination.
Meanwhile back on the farm without bees to pollinate the flowers thousands of crops fail. Millions of tons of fruits and vegetables never get to market. The price of fresh produce skyrockets causing huge increases in the costs of other consumer goods. And because of the crop failures the balance of nature goes haywire. Other insect species die off. And then the birds, reptiles and small mammals that depend on them.
And even more mysterious deaths occur. Dogs and horses die of brain hemorrhage. Squirrels are found dead in the park, poisoned by a toxic build up of tannic acid from acorns, their normal food. The situation turns critical when cows and chickens drop dead in mass and the cause is found to be an infection to which they are naturally immune. Food shortages put pressure on governments. Governments put pressure on each other.
Fingers are pointed at pollution, genetic engineering and biological warfare experimentation. Ecologist blame the scientist. The scientist blame the military. The military blames the terrorists. The terrorist blame the infidels. And the infidels blame God.
Mass starvation leads to riots in the street, military rule is imposed. Ruthless dictators rise to power at first in third world countries and then in places that were once democracies. Social order crumbles, World War Three is inevitable, and the out come is known in advance.
It's just fiction.
OWL
April 7, 2007
Is it a science fiction short story or a real life scenario? The beginning of the end. It starts with something strange and at first seemingly insignificant. A minor species just disappears. Weather it is caused by bacterial, parasitic or viral infection is unknown. Or could it be something stranger and unheard of? A species wide genetic mutation that suddenly manifest its self in a manner similar to a computer virus. What ever it is scientist are baffled. We are helpless to stop the extinction.
Then it is the cats. Thousands of cats mysteriously die of kidney failure and veterinarians are unsure of the cause. The poisonous chemical, melamine is found built up in their kidneys but no one knows if is the cause or a symptom. Wheat gluten is found to be contaminated with melamine and no one can find the source of the contamination.
Meanwhile back on the farm without bees to pollinate the flowers thousands of crops fail. Millions of tons of fruits and vegetables never get to market. The price of fresh produce skyrockets causing huge increases in the costs of other consumer goods. And because of the crop failures the balance of nature goes haywire. Other insect species die off. And then the birds, reptiles and small mammals that depend on them.
And even more mysterious deaths occur. Dogs and horses die of brain hemorrhage. Squirrels are found dead in the park, poisoned by a toxic build up of tannic acid from acorns, their normal food. The situation turns critical when cows and chickens drop dead in mass and the cause is found to be an infection to which they are naturally immune. Food shortages put pressure on governments. Governments put pressure on each other.
Fingers are pointed at pollution, genetic engineering and biological warfare experimentation. Ecologist blame the scientist. The scientist blame the military. The military blames the terrorists. The terrorist blame the infidels. And the infidels blame God.
Mass starvation leads to riots in the street, military rule is imposed. Ruthless dictators rise to power at first in third world countries and then in places that were once democracies. Social order crumbles, World War Three is inevitable, and the out come is known in advance.
It's just fiction.
OWL
April 7, 2007
Friday, April 6, 2007
TheDreamTime
I have been keeping a journal of my dreams for almost a year now. When I tell people I am keeping a dream journal they often tell me about there experience keeping a dream journal. About how they learned a little bit from it a first or didn't learn anything at all. As if I cared. They seem to assume that I am recording my dreams for the same reason they did. As if there were only one possible reason to write down the strange visions that visit it in the night. It has to be an investigation into a persons unconscious.
Why do people take family photos? The pictures they take and the ones they keep and cherish may be a window into their soul. Is that why school pictures are taken every year?
I record my dreams. I want to preserve the flitting kaleidoscopic images, the bizarre scenes and nonsensical situations. When I was young I remembered my dreams easily. Now they fade quickly when I awake. And that bothers me. The memory of something that was so clear a moment ago just evaporates. It's like trying to hold onto a puff of smoke.
My dreams are part of my life experience and so I make them a part of the record.
Are there meanings to dreams? Maybe. Maybe they are just random images. I think they are a mixture substance and trivia. Why should the unconscious be any different than the waking mind. Watch the thoughts that stream though your mind for a moment: memories, plans, worries, anticipations. Do all of them have deeper meaning? No. Some do. Dreams are thoughts, from a different part of the brain but it works the same way. It is just as confused, mixed up and out of focus as the part of the brain that's running the show now. Early childhood trauma is mixed with last nights spaghetti and sprinkled with sit-com silliness. Then a little performance anxiety is throw in for good measure.
And I think that dreams are very personal. The symbols inside the mind very greatly from person to person. Some symbols are shared, but like words they do have different meanings and interpretations. Trying to interpret another's dream is as difficult as analysing their poetry.
And trying to figure out what your own dreams mean is tricky too. If you were meant to understand them they would not be so cryptic. The conscience and unconscious like being strangers.
Stranger in the night...
OWL
April 6, 2007
Why do people take family photos? The pictures they take and the ones they keep and cherish may be a window into their soul. Is that why school pictures are taken every year?
I record my dreams. I want to preserve the flitting kaleidoscopic images, the bizarre scenes and nonsensical situations. When I was young I remembered my dreams easily. Now they fade quickly when I awake. And that bothers me. The memory of something that was so clear a moment ago just evaporates. It's like trying to hold onto a puff of smoke.
My dreams are part of my life experience and so I make them a part of the record.
Are there meanings to dreams? Maybe. Maybe they are just random images. I think they are a mixture substance and trivia. Why should the unconscious be any different than the waking mind. Watch the thoughts that stream though your mind for a moment: memories, plans, worries, anticipations. Do all of them have deeper meaning? No. Some do. Dreams are thoughts, from a different part of the brain but it works the same way. It is just as confused, mixed up and out of focus as the part of the brain that's running the show now. Early childhood trauma is mixed with last nights spaghetti and sprinkled with sit-com silliness. Then a little performance anxiety is throw in for good measure.
And I think that dreams are very personal. The symbols inside the mind very greatly from person to person. Some symbols are shared, but like words they do have different meanings and interpretations. Trying to interpret another's dream is as difficult as analysing their poetry.
And trying to figure out what your own dreams mean is tricky too. If you were meant to understand them they would not be so cryptic. The conscience and unconscious like being strangers.
Stranger in the night...
OWL
April 6, 2007
Thursday, April 5, 2007
Twenty-two
Yesterdays blog is a good example of why I'm doing this. It didn't come out right. I wasn't focused, my point wasn't clear. I just blathered on and didn't make a lot of sense. Learning to put coherent paragraphs together is one of my goals. Another is to do just what I did. That is say what ever comes to mind, I need to learn to be more spontaneous. So even though I didn't like the way it came out I published it anyway. So there.
Last night at the meeting was the same way. I didn't make a lot of sense when I was talking, but I kept talking. It doesn't matter, there were only five people there and no one was listening. I tend to feel that no one listens when I talk but I hesitate to say things because I don't want people to hear what I'm saying.
Are you listening?
OWL
April 5, 2007
Last night at the meeting was the same way. I didn't make a lot of sense when I was talking, but I kept talking. It doesn't matter, there were only five people there and no one was listening. I tend to feel that no one listens when I talk but I hesitate to say things because I don't want people to hear what I'm saying.
Are you listening?
OWL
April 5, 2007
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
Very Like A Whale
"No, no, Lord Byron, before I'll believe that this Assyrian was actually like a wolf I must have some kind of proof", Ogden Nash, Very Like A Whale
There is an old story about a cynic who did not believe. His friends told him, "Come to the temple. There you will see the proof of the miracles the Gods have wrought." So he went to the temple and in front of the temple there was a mountain of crutches. Old ones, new ones. Big crutches and little crutches. Crutches made of bent sticks and finely crafted ones inlaid with silver and gold.
"See," said his friends, "see the proof of the power of the Gods."
The cynic looked at this pile of crutches for a moment and said,
"One wooden leg would be better."
Faith is just that. Faith. It requires no proof. It is belief in things unseen and unknowable. To believe in miracles though is a different matter. These are things of the earth. Miracle cures, sudden unexplained changes in the nature of reality, walking on water, the instant and complete transformation of a persons personality. Proof?
"The doctor said I had six months to live, that was twelve years ago!"
The doctor was wrong. Praise God!
"This guy walked on water!"
Did you see him?
Other things are unexplained but are they proof of the supernatural? I have walked on fire. Well hot coals really. A lot of people have. No one stands on them very long. I've seen a UFO. Very mysterious until I found out it was my neighbor with a kite and a flashlight.
We are asked to believe very day without any evidence. It's been going on since we were children. We've gotten so used we don't realize were doing it any more. We just accept that things are true without thinking. It's easier that way. Easier not to ask the hard questions. What is truth? Is there an absolute truth? How about right and wrong? If it is wrong to kill someone how does self defence make it ok? Is war murder in self defence institutionalized? Is abortion ever good? Can the death penalty be justified? When is ok to lie? When it is a little white lie? Or when it is a matter of national security?
I don't know. What was the question?
OWL
April 4, 2007
There is an old story about a cynic who did not believe. His friends told him, "Come to the temple. There you will see the proof of the miracles the Gods have wrought." So he went to the temple and in front of the temple there was a mountain of crutches. Old ones, new ones. Big crutches and little crutches. Crutches made of bent sticks and finely crafted ones inlaid with silver and gold.
"See," said his friends, "see the proof of the power of the Gods."
The cynic looked at this pile of crutches for a moment and said,
"One wooden leg would be better."
Faith is just that. Faith. It requires no proof. It is belief in things unseen and unknowable. To believe in miracles though is a different matter. These are things of the earth. Miracle cures, sudden unexplained changes in the nature of reality, walking on water, the instant and complete transformation of a persons personality. Proof?
"The doctor said I had six months to live, that was twelve years ago!"
The doctor was wrong. Praise God!
"This guy walked on water!"
Did you see him?
Other things are unexplained but are they proof of the supernatural? I have walked on fire. Well hot coals really. A lot of people have. No one stands on them very long. I've seen a UFO. Very mysterious until I found out it was my neighbor with a kite and a flashlight.
We are asked to believe very day without any evidence. It's been going on since we were children. We've gotten so used we don't realize were doing it any more. We just accept that things are true without thinking. It's easier that way. Easier not to ask the hard questions. What is truth? Is there an absolute truth? How about right and wrong? If it is wrong to kill someone how does self defence make it ok? Is war murder in self defence institutionalized? Is abortion ever good? Can the death penalty be justified? When is ok to lie? When it is a little white lie? Or when it is a matter of national security?
I don't know. What was the question?
OWL
April 4, 2007
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
We are the Whale
Up at 7:00 am this morning. Back to my usual routine. I've been off since DayLightSavingsTime started. The weather here in the foothills has been unseasonably warm, I have to move my planting schedule up a couple weeks. Global Warming, Greenhouse Gases, Destruction of the Ozone and Fluorocarbons, the Soaring Price of Gasoline. People just aren't getting the lesson. There are too many people on the planet and they use too much stuff. Especially Americans. Or should I say people who live in the USA. And then we get these environmental cases telling other people how to save the planet while enjoying a standard of living far beyond the world average. Way beyond subsistence. Now they want to start tearing down dams, our least polluting source of energy. I'll go for that when the environmentalist give up there flush toilets.
Ranting.
OWL
April 3, 2007
Ranting.
OWL
April 3, 2007
Monday, April 2, 2007
Broken Window
I had today's blog all written when my computer crashed. To bad it was REALLY good. I'm still living in the stona age with an antique operating system that is "unstable". Mrs B. wants a new computer. Maybe it is time.
OWL
April 1 2007
OWL
April 1 2007
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