Noises From the Machine

Case Study in Semantic Ambiguity: "Get Your Booty on the Floor"

2011-11-08T07:49:00.002-06:00

On my milk run this morning, I heard Technotronic's "Pump Up the Jam" over the Kwik Shop's speakers. A catchy little tune, no doubt. But what really interested me was this part of the chorus: "I don't want a place to stay / Get your booty on the floor tonight / And make my day."

I tried to imagine how an English as a Second Language (ESL) learner would go about decoding this utterance -- especially the phrase, "get your booty on the floor." After some thought, I concluded they would probably have a lot of trouble with it because of its semantic richness.

What I mean is that most of the words in the phrase "get your booty on the floor" can have several different definitions, forcing the interpreter to choose the correct meaning of the word not once, but at least three times. If the ESL learner didn't have a context to plug this phrase into, s/he would probably be pretty lost.

I think it would help to see some examples. Here's a table of definitions for the three semantically heaviest words in the sentence: "get," "booty," and "floor." I have tried to organize each word's definitions by frequency of common use. Since the verb in this phrase is clearly imperative, I have maintained that voice in the table.

Word	Definition	Example
get	obtain	Please get a gallon of cheap wine at the liquor store.
get	put or move	Get that cat out of my bathtub!
get	understand	Get this: I do not want you feeding cheap wine to the cat anymore.
booty	hinder parts	That drunk cat scratched my booty.
booty	footwear (primarily for infants)	I haven't seen the baby's other booty since the cat disappeared.
booty	plunder	Yarr! I drank those humans' grog and brought this little baby-shoe back as me booty!
floor	lower surface of a room	Is that a hairball on the floor?
floor	the entire level of a building	I found a really nasty hairball on the third floor.
floor	surface used for a specialized purpose (such as dancing)	Why is that drunken cat with the eyepatch on the dance floor?

So, here are just a few of the possible (but incorrect, in this case) interpretations of the phrase "get your booty on the floor":

Obtain plunder on the specialized surface
Understand baby shoes on one of the levels of a building
Move your hinder parts onto the lower surface of the room

I'm sure you get the idea.

The semantic richness of the words in this phrase is pretty remarkable. Even more remarkable, though, is the fact that most native English speakers would correctly interpret the phrase as an imperative to move their synecdochic hinder quarters onto the specialized floor for the express purpose of dancing. And still more amazingly, they would probably do so in milliseconds.

Even an ESL learner would probably not have significant problems with understanding this phrase, given the context of the song.

It's astonishing that the human brain can sort through all the possibilities and select the right one almost instantaneously. As the Psalmist said, "I am fearfully and wonderfully made."

My Big Run, Part I: A (Slow) Part of the Faceless Mass

2011-10-18T20:47:00.003-05:00

I ran a half marathon on Saturday.

Why?

Because it was there, I guess.
Also because I was turning 30 the next day and wanted to feel like I wasn't an old man yet.
And also because I am overweight and wanted a goal that would make me exercise regularly.

I do some of my best thinking while running. And during the 2:33:34 that I was running on Saturday, I thought about some things that I wanted to share with you, my beloved Intarnets. So, since I am notoriously bad at blogging, I decided it would be best to run a miniseries instead of wasting all my bloggery in one post. So here goes.

The race started at 7:05 a.m., so by 6:30, the starting area was already getting pretty crowded. After a quick stop in a very filthy mobile intestinal relief facility, I joined 5501 of my newest friends behind the starting line. Despite the October chill, most of us weren't wearing much more than shorts, T-shirts, and maybe sweatshirts. Some were wearing substantially less (e.g., the man dressed in a cape, briefs, and a lucha libre mask). We expected to get very warm very quickly.

A funny thing happens when you are in a tight-packed bunch of live bodies on a cold morning: you get to share their body heat. I knew somewhere in the back of my head that humans are finely tuned heat machines, generally running temperatures between 96 and 98 degrees. Nonetheless, I'm not sure I ever really felt this truth the way I did in that chilly pre-dawn moment when I realized that I was standing outside in 40-degree weather and wasn't even a little bit cold. It was comforting to know that, even in a massive, faceless crowd, we could provide each other with a little bit of comfort on a cold day. It almost made me feel like one with those around me. And then the race started.

After the starting pistol sounded, the crowd surged slowly forward like a fell dragon flexing his wings. I started about a quarter mile back from the line. Following thousands of others, I went from a slow walk to a leisurely jog to a full-on run as I hit the sensor strip at the starting line. Once we had crossed that fateful line, we were no longer partners against the cold -- it was every man for himself, and Devil take the hindmost.

For the first couple of miles, I felt more like an extra in a zombie film than a contestant in a road race. I glanced around at my competitors, looking for signs of infection and trying to remember if it was possible to crush the spinal columns of the brain-hungry undead with one's bare hands. After all, here we were: thousands of people, all running the same direction, a river of humanity flowing inexorably to a common sea. What else could explain this madness besides some brain ailment? Or the allure of cheesy medals, I guess.

It was a surreal experience to run with 5,000 other humans toward a single finish line. It emphasized everyone's common humanity: we all were flesh and bone, constructed of basically the same materials and on basically the same plan. However, it also highlighted our differences. I, a short, jiggly man with creaky knees, was not even in the same class with the tall, muscular demigods who dominated the race-course, finishing a full marathon in less time than it took me to run my measly half. (I am not joking. The winner of the full marathon lapped me about 1.5 miles from the finish line.)

I intend to get into more detail about the run itself in subsequent posts. For now, I will close with a few numbers.

5,502 people started the half marathon with me. Of those, 4,796 finished. And of those, I came in 3,955th. Not great. And my time of 2:33:43 was more than 20 minutes slower than the average finish time.

But, hey, at least I wasn't the pitiful sack of carbon-based life who came in last.

Hutchmoot II: In Which I (Finally) Make It to Nashville

2011-10-04T20:57:00.000-05:00

As you may remember, a dirty low-down debit card thief prevented me from attending Hutchmoot 2010. I am happy to report that no such thing occurred this year. However, my own sense of inadequacy very nearly had the same effect on my soul that last year's thief had on my wallet.

From the moment I walked through the doors of the venue, I was intimidated by what I perceived as greatness on every side. Some of my favorite musicians and writers were there, including Jason Gray, Andrew Peterson, Andy Gullahorn, Jonathan Rogers, A. S. "Pete" Peterson, and S. D. Smith. The first night, there was a show by the Square Peg Alliance, which was amazing. As I watched and listened to the music, I couldn't help but wonder what I was doing here.

I'm not a professional artist, or a writer, or a musician. Even worse, I don't really have any intention of becoming one. I work as a business analyst for a company that does third-party administration services for life insurance companies. I used to dream of singing or writing for a living, but those dreams fizzled out when I realized that you can't eat art or pay a mortgage with it.

So, at Hutchmoot 2011, I found myself playing the familiar role of a poser. It reminded me of I Samuel 17, where David's brother Eliab accuses him of having a presumptuous, evil heart -- except, in my case, the accusation was justified. I felt like a little boy who had abandoned his sheep to come down and gawk at the Giants.

I knew intellectually that this wasn't true. In his welcome speech, Andrew Peterson had made it clear that each person there was an important part of the community. None of the Square Pegs exuded haughtiness or a sense of superiority. I knew that I was a welcome person who had valuable contributions to make. But I'd be jiggered if I knew what those valuable contributions might be.

As I compared myself to all the great artists and thinkers who were gathered in that place, I had a hard time believing that I was very important to anyone. Nonetheless, I played my role well, having paid attention in my junior high drama class. In sessions, I tried to say Important-Sounding Things and nod my head sagely at the right times. To myself, of course, I was a phony, but that didn't stop me from putting on a good show.

In the end, what saved me from this dismal state was love. (This should come as no surprise, since love is all that saves any of us from anything.) In this particular case, it was Jason Gray's humble love for the people he was ministering to in Friday night's concert.

In some ways, Jason was the greatest giant of them all. A bona fide Christian artist who gets airplay on Christian top-40 stations, a deeply spiritual man with a lot of challenging ideas about faith and godliness, and one of the most genuine, honest singer / songwriters I know of -- for me, being around him was like being around some sort of mythic hero. And I was dangerously close to committing idolatry.

But Jason sliced through the mythos with his honesty, authenticity, and humility. Rather than building himself up as some sort of CCM demigod, he treated his audience as a group of brothers and sisters. He saw his role as leading us into worship, not as our superior, but as our fellow-worshiper. Jason taught us parts to sing along with him, so we could join right in with him as he ascribed worth to our Father that night. In short, he took the role of priest, not the role of idol.

During that show, some fleshly thing within me snapped. Suddenly, I found myself truly believing what I had merely known before: This wasn't a contest. I wasn't competing with others to see who was smartest, or most talented, or most successful. I wasn't any less valuable because of my lack of artistic efforts.

That night, as I worshiped along with 100 other followers of Christ, I felt like I had become a true part of the community.

I could write a lot more about Hutchmoot. I could tell you how amazing the sessions were, how incredible it was to listen to Sam Smith, Andrew and Pete Peterson, and Jonathan Rogers talking about literature, and how fun it was to play Settlers with Jon, Ashley, Todd, Jud, and Sherri. However, others have probably said those kinds of things more powerfully than I can, so I won't belabor the point.

To me, the most wonderful part of this year's Hutchmoot will always be that moment on Friday night when I realized I am not just an inferior junior member of God's kingdom. Rather, I am a true child of the Creator-King, and it is my birthright to engage in sub-creation.

I'm still working through the implications of that night, but I think one of its effects will be to encourage me to start writing again. Too often, I have avoided writing for fear of failure. I've told myself I would never become a great writer because I can't do it full-time. I've let myself forget that I don't love writing because it might make me "successful"; I love it because of how it allows me to make beautiful things where there was nothing before. God put that love in me, so He must want me to use it to the best of my ability.

To sum up: Hutchmoot 2011 taught me that, regardless of my insecurities and fears, I do belong in His family. I can (and must) use my gifts to build His kingdom, and one of the ways I can do that is through writing. So I will write.

It might take the form of more posts on this blog, or it may reside in a notebook for now. Somehow, though, I am going to start working seriously and regularly at making beautiful configurations of words. And if I do ever receive worldly success from these efforts, I must take care to use it like the shrewd servant in Jesus's parable, to get as much gain as I can for God's kingdom.

Audit Season

2011-04-20T22:26:00.001-05:00

'Tis the season for audits in my world. Also, fund mergers and name changes out the etc. It's hard to have any kind of life outside of work right now, to say nothing of a strong online presence here.

Here's something that came out of me today while I was waiting for queries to run. Hope you enjoy it, or at least that it doesn't cause you to go blind.

A life insurance audit
In the midst of tax season
May not seem especially poetic,
With its deep piles of policy files,
Its long hours of arduous reconciliation,
Its days of dreary, plodding research,
Its seemingly endless requirements,
Its Diogenian quest for Truth.
Yet, a poetry is present,
(If only one knows how to look)
Just as there is poetry in the eye
Of a ravenous and unrelenting hurricane
Or the fallen, decaying corpse of a sparrow,
Or an awful sonnet read poorly in a cafe,
Or a half-eaten bowl of stale cornflakes,
Or a tragicomical marriage proposal.
Poetries abound in this life,
Beneath the opacity of the mundane:
Patterns and possibilities that transcend
The here, the now, the ever-present used-to-be
And point to a world peopled by modal auxiliary verbs:
Will, would, can, could, shall, should, may, might--
Words of power and purpose, ideals and ideologies,
That reside in a clean, open space, untainted
By temporality, focused on lasting beauty,
And finding it in everything they touch.

Need a 5-Minute Countdown Timer? Look No Further!

2011-03-15T01:53:00.004-05:00

I looked all over the Web for a simple five-minute timer that I could use to count down to the start of our church's Sunday service. After a great deal of fruitless Googling, I threw in the towel and decided to make my own.

This cost me a good amount of time and quite a bit of frustration to finish, so I would love if others could get some use out of it too! Follow this link, then right-click on the "Download" button and choose "Save As" to save the animation to your PC. You can then insert it into a Powerpoint or other slideshow as needed.

Here are the specs:

Transparent background
Black text
Arial font
800 x 400 pixels
Counts down from five minutes (5 minutes)
Great to track time before the start of a service, class, or meeting; also useful for mid-meeting breaks
A little bit wobbly because I messed the alignment up on a few images (but not too noticeably, I hope)

I made this using the excellent open-source image editing program Paint.NET and a marvelous little freeware tool called UnFREEz, from the technowizards at WhitSoft Development. Tedious though this was to create, these two free tools made it go MUCH more smoothly.

I guess this is the place where I should insert the obligatory appeal for remuneration. So here goes: if you would like to show your appreciation for this countdown, please do something to help someone who is truly in need. God loves a cheerful giver, and I've already got everything I want. :-)

When Dementia Strikes...

2011-03-14T23:52:00.000-05:00

If I am blessed with a long enough life, it is not unreasonable to expect that my mind will start to go at some point. I must say I fear this possibility -- more tonight than ever.

I've seen enough Alzheimer's patients to know that it is not immediate. Nor is it linear. Nor is it predictable.

I imagine that when it comes, it will be like driving through a foggy West Virginia night, with the peaks all around shrouded in misty white cloaks. Sometimes the fog thickens; sometimes it clears. Sometimes you can see for miles; sometimes you can't even see the semi in the oncoming lane until it is almost too late (and then you realize you were staring down death's maw and your breath comes in cold, ragged gasps until you can force yourself to calm down).

The most frightening thing about it is that I will lose control of everything -- and particularly the strength of those sweet memories that have so much power over the mundane, soulkilling concerns of my life. For instance, my little boy, one year old and happy, curled up on my lap, cooing and playing with the tiny plastic spoon from which he tasted his first ice cream tonight. Or, again, the deep blue eyes of my beautiful lover, offering me solace after a long, frustrating day of having my will forcibly bent to conform to that of the machine in which I am a mere cog.

Those moments of warmth, comfort, and peace will be first dimmed, then lost, by the enveloping mist, when dementia strikes. And that is a loss I fear more than any earthly pain -- because without those memories, life will be much harder to make sense of.

Yet, even in the face of this possibility, I must, like Job, confess my Creator's supremacy: "Though He slay me, I will hope in Him..."

But also like Job, unless I become much more mature in the few years I have remaining on this terrestrial ball, I will also plead on my own behalf: "Nevertheless, I will argue my ways before Him."

Perhaps I will undergo the loss anyway. But I have faith that regardless of what may happen to me on this plane, if I hold fast to my true and lasting hope, the misty shroud will one day be swept away by a clean and everlasting Light. And to even glimpse such a Light, I would give my warmest, most comforting memories in a heartbeat.

Disneyworld

2011-03-04T07:30:00.000-06:00

I have lately been reading a lot of other blogs, to the neglect of my own. One that I frequent pretty often is that of Jonathan Rogers, author of several books. Each week, he has an audience participation assignment. This week's was on Disney: "Let’s talk about Disney. Triumphs, disasters, amusing anecdotes, opinions supported and unsupported. We welcome them all."

Here's what I wrote. After I was done, I decided I would cross-post it here.

My only experience with Disneyworld was related more to the idea of the place than the place itself.

When I was about nine, I somehow got it into my head that I wanted to go to Disneyworld. And, as you know if you have ever been nine, I wanted it more than ANYONE has ever wanted ANYTHING.

(In retrospect, I’m not quite sure why I wanted to go. I don’t like roller coasters, and I’m not especially fond of crowds. I was probably just more susceptible to the magic of advertising at that age.)

The obstacles were as follows:
* We lived in Kansas
* We lived on the salary of an adjunct math instructor
* Mom and dad had seven kids at that time, with number eight on the way

When I told my father about my rather unrealistic desire, he told me we would see if we could make it happen. And that sweet man kept his word. I remember him getting on the phone with Disney to see if they had any discounts our group of nine could take advantage of. I remember him writing down estimates, adding up expenses, researching campgrounds, trying to massage the numbers into something that wouldn’t make us hemorrhage out an entire month’s pay.

He went through a lot of effort trying to fulfill the silly dreams of a little boy. So I knew when he sat down solemnly with me a week later that he had done his best.

“Son,” he said, “sometimes we just can’t get the things we want. When that happens, we just need to appreciate what we have.” He finished by giving me an enormous hug that conveyed more love than a dozen trips to Disneyworld ever could.

So I guess you could say that I have nothing but good memories of Disneyworld.

Strange Devotion

2010-12-18T09:05:00.000-06:00

Tomorrow, it will be nine months since I met the little stranger who has become so dear to me. How close can one person grow to another in nine months? How permanent can such an affection be? What sort of bond grows this fierce this quickly?

I suppose there's really not much special about him yet. Yes, he makes cute noises and does cute things. No, he's never said a hurtful word or done a malicious thing, as far as I know. But in these respects, he is no different from any other infant. Or kitten, for that matter.

So why do I ache for his life to be beautiful? Why do I long for him to have his heart's desire? Why would I do literally anything in my power to spare him pain?

This morning, I sat on the couch reading Boneshaker by Cherie Priest (an excellent read, by the way). My little boy was standing on the floor, supported with his arms on the couch, making charmingly ineffective essays at walking.

When he stopped trying to walk and laid his tired little head against my left arm, the strangest feeling rushed through me. It was an overwhelming urge to protect, to sacrifice, to eliminate anything that might sadden this child. I think it's the closest I have ever been to wishing my soul could perish so another might live.

I'm sure there are many reasons why the Lord makes babies so attractive to parents. Probably the main one is for survival -- the cuter a baby is, the less likely we are to begrudge him the innumerable inconveniences he necessitates. But I'm convinced that another reason is the one I experienced this morning. Somehow, in some small way, this baby has taught me what it means to love my child so much that I would gladly sacrifice everything for his good.

And if I would sacrifice everything, then I will surely give him all the good things I can for as long as I am entrusted with his care. Sort of reminds me of something...

Sunrise

2010-11-17T07:35:00.000-06:00

And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High;
For you will go on before the Lord to prepare His ways;

To give to His people the knowledge of salvation
By the forgiveness of their sins,

Because of the tender mercy of our God,
With which the Sunrise from on high will visit us,

To shine upon those who sit in darkness and the shadow of death,
To guide our feet into the way of peace.¹

I'm sure I had read the benediction of Zacharias to his son John before. In fact, I'm reasonably sure I have read it at least three or four times. But for some reason, it has never leapt out at me. (Maybe because it is overpowered by Mary's Magnificat just a few lines up the page.)

This morning, though, it hit me like a boatload of rabid weasels:² God's tender mercy, personified in Christ, is a sunrise.

It's a simple picture, but also a powerful one -- especially if you have ever had the joy of seeing the sun creep over the horizon after a long, dark, painful night. The renewed burst of warmth and light from that celestial body remind you that the world is actually a pretty wonderful place after all, despite its spots of scattered darkness. No matter how foul your mood, there is always some solace to be found in the cheery rays of sunlight dancing through the morning sky. If nothing else, there is always the hope that today will be better than the one that preceded it.

Sunrise always reminds me of the 900-mile trek from my former home in Northeast Arizona back home to Kansas. The drive is a long, exhausting one, over mountain passes and through seemingly endless stretches of desert.

We normally tried to have at least three drivers in the car, of whom two would be asleep at any given time. This allowed us to leave at 3 p.m. on a Friday and pull into our destination at about the time the sun was peeking up over the Kansas plains.

Without fail, the hardest stretch of the drive was between midnight and 5 a.m. Struggling to stay alert when it's way past bedtime, navigating confusing networks of backroads to shave a few minutes off the drive, and listening to whatever radio station was least staticky out in the middle of nowhere³ can certainly drain a person.

The worst part of driving in the dark is that it's hard to see your progress. You have no real evidence, other than your odometer, to indicate that you're actually going anywhere -- particularly when you're driving through Western Kansas, where there are very few landmarks and a lot of flat, open spaces.

So when you see that blessed glow on the horizon, you suddenly realize: "Hey! I'm almost home!" There's a feeling of relief that accompanies the sunrise. When you look back on the long night behind you, there's also a feeling of accomplishment. You realize that you have already done the most daunting part of the journey, and ahead of you is only brightness and joy.

For those of us sitting in darkness and the shadow of death, the Sunrise is a welcome sight indeed.

Notes:

¹ Luke 1:76-79 (New American Standard Bible)

² I was going to say "like a ton of bricks," but that was just a little too cliché. I have high hopes of making "boatload of rabid weasels" the new "ton of bricks."

³ Normally the musical choices were reminiscent of the following exchange from Blues Brothers:

Elwood: What kind of music do you usually have here?
Claire: Oh, we got both kinds. We got country *and* western.

Vacation Blessings: Day 14

2010-10-28T22:00:00.027-05:00

The Trip

We got up for the boy's first feeding at about 6:00 a.m., had a continental breakfast, and hit the road. We had intended to stop at any roadside attractions that seemed interesting, but we didn't end up visiting any except the world's largest indoor Burger King play area somewhere in Missouri. We did that just so we could get a picture of the boy in a crown and "Future Whopper Eater" bib in front of the play area. Posterity, you know.

After a full day of driving, except for food / gas / nursing stops, we arrived home around 8:00 p.m. Central time, unpacked the car, and climbed happily into our own bed. It had been a great trip, but we were glad to be home again.

The Blessings

A Safe Journey. Two weeks, 12 states, and more than 2,000 miles, and no car problems or accidents. The Lord was our keeper and the shade on our right hands.

Getting Home Again. Dorothy was right when she clicked her heels and fervently chanted, "There's no place like home." No matter how comfortable other beds are, there's just something nice about being back in our own bed tonight. And, thanks to my clever wifey, we came back to a clean house! She made sure that we tidied up before leaving, which was a great idea. I can't imagine how discouraged I might have been to return to a messy home.

I like to think that coming home is a lot like our ultimate homecoming, when we finally see our Lord face to face and hear what He has to tell us and understand Him face to face, rather than through a dim glass. Until that time, though, I'm happy to be in my temporal sojourning place with my beautiful wifey and marvelous son.

Vacation Blessings: Day 13

2010-10-27T22:00:00.085-05:00

The Trip

I did something really stupid last night: I stayed up all night playing Starcraft II: Wings of Liberty. I can't remember the last time I did that -- it was probably with the first Starcraft. A very addictive game, as you would expect from the folks at Blizzard. And not a quick one to beat, by any means.

Unfortunately, morning always comes at the same time, and we had to leave this morning. I realized at about 5:30 that it was getting late -- er, early -- and decided to take a quick nap on the couch. About two hours later, I ate breakfast, then we played one last game of Bohnanza and headed out.

Our drive was a good one, and after passing through the Alleghenies, we stopped for the night in Dayton, OH. This time, our comparison shopping for hotel rooms was a little more successful, thanks to our previous practice.

We had been looking forward to exploring Dayton, but by the time we got there, all we wanted was takeout and TV shows on the wifey's laptop. We were satisfied in these desires by The Royal Wok and The Office. Om nom nom and LOL, respectively.

The Blessings

The Interstate System. Like many blessings, this one is a double-edged sword. Arguably, more than anything else in our culture, Interstates have promulgated chain stores and restaurants, contributed to urban sprawl, and killed the small town. But they are also very nice, safe roads to use, and they enable travel opportunities that would have been considered the stuff of science fiction in the recent past.

I could drive from coast to coast in two days for about a week and a half's worth of salary if I really had to. Contrast that with the months of life-threatening travel by wagon or stagecoach that were the norm a century and a half ago, and then tell me whether the Interstate is a benefit or a detriment. Or think of those long, dirty, dreary train rides that would have been necessary to accomplish the same feat 100 years ago.

Say what you will about the Interstate System or Dwight D. Eisenhower, its father, we certainly enjoyed using it on this trip.

Wi-Fi. I love how ubiquitous free wi-fi has become all over the place: hotels, coffee shops... even McDonald's restaurants! No matter where we go, we never have to be off the grid for more than a few hours. Of course, like the Interstate System, this can be a double-edged sword, but as long as we use it wisely, wi-fi is a fantastic tool.

Online Map Services. Whether you prefer MapQuest, Google Maps, or some other service, these are a godsend. Where you used to have to spend hours poring over atlases and tables of city distances, you can now just plug your starting and ending addresses into the computer, and bada bing, you've got instant directions. Of course, the directions aren't any good if a highway doesn't actually exist in real life. But other than that, these are the next best thing to...

Global Positioning Systems (GPSes). In Virginia and Maryland, these are vital. Like, almost impossible to live without. Traffic volumes are so high, and construction is so frequent, that it is vital to have a GPS handy. This is especially true when you're going someplace you haven't been to very much before. Again, this is straight out of Sci-Fi. (In this case, literally! Arthur C. Clarke, author of such Sci-Fi works as 2001: A Space Odyssey, was also the originator of communications satellites, without which there would be no GPS.)

Vacation Blessings: Day 12

2010-10-26T22:00:00.089-05:00

The Trip

Good morning, Baltimore! OK, so it wasn't technically morning when we got there. But I am also technically not Nikki Blonsky, so that's all right.

Today was fabulous from start to finish. We got up, played games, and then left for Del Ray, where we planned to enjoy some delicious food at Taqueria Poblano. Alas, it was Tuesday, and no estuvo abierto. Que pena. :-(

But we had no fear; Thai Peppers was near! They had a good Pad Thai and a passable curry, although not as spicy as the restaurant's name implies. Great lunch special, fast service, and very helpful people! Plus, they were open, which is always nice.

We were going to enjoy dessert at The Dairy Godmother, but it appears they copied off of Taqueria Poblano's schedule -- closed on Tuesdays.

Unfazed, we stopped by the Seven-Eleven for drinks and took off for scenic Baltimore. We spent all afternoon and evening at Fort McHenry and the Baltimore Inner Harbor, both of which are well worth visiting. We toured the USS Constellation, which was quite interesting though overpriced.

The Power Plant Live was interesting -- I'm not sure how to feel about it. On one hand, I love that the harbor development folks were able to keep some of the traditional structures more or less intact. On the other hand, I'm not sure that turning them into Hard Rock Cafes and Barnes and Noble Bookstores (with requisite Starbucks cafes inside) is much better than utter demolition.

Everywhere we went, it seemed like someone was after us to help retire the colors for the evening. I helped strike the big daytime flag at Fort McHenry, and two of our friends were asked to help lower the flag on the USS Constellation. This was a little bit ironic, considering that Baltimore was where "The Star-Spangled Banner" was written.

Dinner was at the devastatingly expensive but delectable Rusty Scupper. The crab cakes were worth dying for. Or at least worth killing someone for, since you wouldn't be able to taste them if you were dead. I think.

Finally, after our yumtastic dinner, we headed home. On the way back, we saw one of the most stunning night-time views I had ever seen: The six illuminated spires of the Washington D.C. Mormon Temple. It's kind of like the Sleeping Beauty Castle crossed with Orthanc. Quite pretty, but a little bit ominous. Out of place, too.

The Blessings

Food. I think we tend either to take food for granted or to take it much, much too seriously. Clearly, God intended food to be enjoyed; otherwise it wouldn't taste so good. But He also created it to be enjoyed without being completely abused as a feel-good panacea. This day was full of delicious foods in moderation -- a perfect blend of good things!

Freedom of Religion. I'm grateful to be in a country where all are free to worship as befits the dictates of their consciences. (Even the crazy Mormons.) It's nice not to have to worry about the secret police busting up our Sunday meetings.

America's Existence. As someone with a history degree, I have long tended toward scorn whenever someone tells me that God designed America's history and guided its founders and did all kinds of crazy miracles to set us up for a Bush-led theocracy.

The main reason I scoff is because my God is the same one whose son fled when people tried to force Him into the position of an earthly king. He is the one who proclaimed, "My Kingdom is not of this world." He is the one who rode into town on a donkey, not a war-horse.

And yet, when I look at the War of 1812, I am absolutely shocked to see the United States survive it. I see it as the one occasion when the flickering flame of our newborn nation was closest to being extinguished. And try as I might, I still can't see why it wasn't. How could the military might that overcame Napoleon's forces fail to crush a few upstart colonials who were whining about being pressed into naval service?

The answer: I have no clue. But I'm grateful they did fail, because it leaves me living in a free, prosperous country full of hope and civil liberties.

Vacation Blessings: Day 11

2010-10-25T22:00:00.024-05:00

The Trip

In the morning, we went to the church to clean up. It went really quickly with my wife and me helping -- I was glad we'd decided to come.

Lots of games today. I find myself being really glad that our friends like games so much, because they give us all something to do together. I'm sure we haven't worn out our welcome here, and probably wouldn't for some time, but games make it a lot easier to spend a great deal of time together without feeling awkward or in the way.

The rest of the day was spent relaxing, reading, and writing -- some of my favorite things.

The Blessings

Serving. One of the things I enjoy most is being useful. Back home, I am often too occupied to do a lot of physical serving in the church. So when I have the time and opportunity to do something like sweep and mop a fellowship hall, I genuinely appreciate it. It's great to see the work being done, and to know I am doing it for my Lord, and to know that others appreciate it as well.

In John 13, when Jesus washes his disciples' feet, it is tempting to think of it as Him laying a burden on them. In reality, though, I wonder if He isn't giving them another type of blessing.

Reading and Writing. These are things that get pushed to the back burner because they are important but not urgent. Meanwhile, other things that are less important but much more urgent vie for my attention when I'm not at work, engaged in church ministries, or otherwise occupied.

Vacation has been a great chance to get some things written and read. Of the things I read, the best was unquestionably Marilynne Robinson's Gilead, which you need to read right this minute. Seriously, why are you still reading this? Please, for your own sake, go read Gilead right now. I mean it.

Vacation Blessings: Day 10

2010-10-24T22:00:00.025-05:00

The Trip

Our college friends returned to Richmond last night, so our numbers were slightly diminished as we went to church this morning. The people there are very nice, and the teaching was pretty good too. I prefer the music back at our home church, but the songs were OK -- I just didn't know them too well.

After church, we had lunch at the Hard Times Cafe. It was yummy, but I probably ate too much, because all I wanted after that was to go home and take a nap.

In the evening, while our friends were at church, we went exploring in Burke, trying to find citric acid to make dishwasher detergent, as well as some other things. We ended up being disgusted at the Burke Wal-Mart's selection and pleasantly surprised with the Target that we went to as a last resort. They didn't have any citric acid, but they did have a fondue pot that we could use to make our special fried cheese cubes. We were quite pleased, and so were our friends when they came home and had the delightful cheese cubes for their bedtime snacks.

The Blessings

More Time With Wifey. One of the things I am realizing on this trip is that I simply don't get enough time with my wife. She is a lot of fun, and I love hanging out with her, but all too often, other things get in the way. I need to really be better at making dates with her a priority.

Chili. Is there a more perfect, more completely balanced food on earth than a well-made chili? I submit that there is not. And the Terlingua Red at Hard Times Cafe certainly counts as well-made.

Giving. Our friends had mentioned earlier that they wanted a fondue pot, so it was really enjoyable to be able to give them one -- and to give them something tasty along with it! There was a time when I sort of rolled my eyes any time I heard someone intone, "It is more blessed to give than to receive," but the more chances I have to give, the more I find myself loving it!

Vacation Blessings: Day 9

2010-10-23T22:00:00.056-05:00

The Trip

In the morning, we went to the Alexandria Farmer's Market, whose Web site definitively claims that it "is thought to be one of the nation's oldest continually operating farmer's markets." It is unclear who is doing the thinking in this curiously passive statement, but I'm sure the sentiment still holds true.

After examining the various wares at the farmer's market, we window-shopped our way through Old Town and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. For lunch, we stopped at a Five Guys Burger, which was excessive and quite tasty, although the deliciousness was tainted with the knowledge that every bite of that greasy, greasy food was lowering my life expectancy by at least a few hours.

After lunch, we were off to Mount Vernon to see George Washington's ~~ridiculously overpriced tourist trap~~ home. It was lovely, but I'm not at all sure it was worth the $15 admission fee. Plus, I was excited about making a corn-husk doll, but the ladies at the corn-husk doll booth made it seem like it was just for little girls and not balding, overweight nearly-30-year-olds. So that was disappointing.

My favorite part of Mount Vernon was sitting on Washington's back porch and watching the Potomac roll by. The day was lovely -- just warm enough, with a gentle breeze to carry the chatter of passersby someplace far away. There was a sort of hushed stillness over the river as the sun crept across that clear blue October sky. I wonder if George and Martha sat out here a lot in the evenings. I know I would if it were my place.

The Blessings

Money. We don't have a lot, but we did budget some for this trip, and it's been nice not to worry about pinching pennies while we're on the road. The trip has also made me realize that money is great, but it's only useful if you spend it. The way I see it, there is very little value in letting your money sit around and make more money, unless you're able to enjoy some of it along the way.

Rivers. They're amazing things, aren't they? There is so much wonderful information about rivers that I don't even know where to begin being thankful for them. They prevent stagnation, enable transport, supply water to thirsty people, and look very pretty as the sun sets over them. They invoke images of adventure and excitement and wanderlust and peaceful resignation toward life's rolling waves washing over you.

Babysitters. One very nice thing about visiting far-away friends when you have a new baby: they are happy to take care of the little guy for you while you get some quality wifey time. This whole trip has been much more enjoyable because of their willingness to help us with our little one! It's another reason to be extremely thankful that these people are our friends.

Vacation Blessings: Day 8

2010-10-22T22:00:00.046-05:00

The Trip

In the morning, we trekked out to Manassas, where the first and second battles of Bull Run were waged. It was a fascinating site, but also a little bit depressing, as Civil War memorials tend to be. War is hell, as William Tecumseh Sherman famously said. And as hellish as it must be to kill humans of any nation or culture, it seems even sadder, somehow, for countrymen to line up against countrymen. The bayonet charges, the volleys of rifle balls, the cannon shells and sabers cutting through soft flesh -- every bit of the violence seems infinitely more monstrous when brothers perpetrate it on each other.

In the afternoon and evening, my old college friend's wife arrived, and we took my baby boy into the District so we could take his picture in front of famous buildings. We got the capitol, the supreme court, the Washington, Lincoln, and Jefferson edifices, and the Smithsonian.

At the end of it all, the boy was pretty tired, and so were we, so we returned home to have a nice rest and to look forward to the day ahead.

The Blessings

My Son. His face fairly glows with curiosity and happiness. He is so easily entertained, and yet also so eager for knowledge and achievements. He is full of limitless hope and easy joy. He is at peace in his father's arms; he doesn't know yet that there is anything I can't protect him from.

There's a lot I want to teach him, but he has even more to teach me, if I pay attention.

Peace. Yes, we have been at war with someone or another for roughly the past nine years. Yes, between Bush I and Bush II, we have been engaged in conflicts in Iraq for more years than we were engaged in the First and Second World Wars. And yet, I am not fighting against my brother. I have not been conscripted, and I pray my son won't be either. There are still things to be thankful for, and the wars haven't touched us very closely.

The Bible says peacemakers who sow in peace will reap a harvest of righteousness. I think one reason that is true is because we weren't made to war. It is an outgrowth of selfishness, of covetousness, of selfish ambition. In short, it is an outgrowth of ungratefulness for blessings and of rebellion toward the One who made us to live in peace.

I know there will be trouble in this world, especially for followers of Christ. But nonetheless, with St. Francis, I pray, "Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace." And I pray that the peace will be both political and personal, as people become reconciled with the One who designed them to love one another.

Vacation Blessings: Day 7

2010-10-21T22:00:00.060-05:00

The Trip

A very good college friend of mine joined us today. Together with our hosts, we went to Old Town Alexandria for lunch at Gadsby's Tavern and a tour of Christ Church, where George Washington and Robert E. Lee attended.

In the evening, we played games, including Hearts (with Jack of Diamonds as -10, Ace of Diamonds as 5, and trickless as -5 -- best. variation. evar.) and Bohnanza.

The Blessings

Historical Stuff. As a history nerd, I absolutely loved seeing Old Town, and especially Gadsby's and Christ Church. It always fires my imagination to realize that I am occupying the same physical space that has been occupied by people I admire. Of those, Washington and Lee are both near the top of the list. Washington's undying commitment to the good of others and Lee's loyalty to his commitments, even in the face of disagreement with the South's ideological position, are the sort of legacy I would like to leave.

Games. Playing games with friends is one of my favorite pastimes. It's great to match wits with each other in a friendly, low-risk way. I think it really helps me to grow closer to my friends and learn to admire them more. Games also allow a social circle to become stronger and more stable. And, especially significantly for me, games teach you how to be happy with losing. They also teach you that losing isn't the end; it's just an opportunity to learn and improve.

Seeing Old Friends. They remind me that God works differently in each of His children. While we all long for the same heavenly city and for its Lord, Jesus Christ, He tailors our situations and journeys to maximize our growth and usefulness. For a long time, it bothered me that my friends all had to take separate paths from me. More recently, I have come to understand and accept that it is God's way of weaving a more diverse, more wondrous tapestry. I guess you could say I've stopped obsessing over His technique and started enjoying His artistry more fully.

Vacation Blessings: Day 6

2010-10-20T22:00:00.021-05:00

The Trip

We just sat around the house in Burke, enjoying the company of our friends, blogging, and relaxing. In my mind, this is the sweetest part of any vacation. I enjoy seeing things and visiting new places, but sometimes you just need a sabbath rest.

In the evening, we walked to a grocery store and a nearby Caribou Coffee for a date while our hosts were at prayer meeting.

The Blessings

Great Friends. We love spending time with these people. They're the best kind of friends: the kind who you can pick up your relationship with at any time, no matter how long it's been since you last saw them or spoke with them.

Being Comfortable. It's not just anyone who can make you feel completely at home, so we are really blessed to feel that way right now. Our rest here has been rest indeed! We don't have to worry about intruding or outstaying our welcome or any of the other things that come along with visiting. We know they love us and want us here, and we know that we belong.

Fellowship and Encouragement. One of the nicest things of all is knowing that our friends share our values, our sense of humor, and most importantly, our love for Christ. Being with them is a constant strengthening for us. And it delights us to know that we encourage them, too.

Date Night! I always love spending time with my wife and baby. It's really fun to be able to go out for coffee and a walk together. And the umbrella stroller we're borrowing from my mother-in-law works great!

Vacation Blessings: Day 5

2010-10-19T22:00:00.061-05:00

The Trip

Today was a sightseeing day. In the morning, we went into the District to see Ford's Theatre and visit the National Building Museum. Then, after a brief afternoon rest at home, we went back into the city for a tour of the West Wing.

Ford's Theatre was very interesting. we enjoyed their very nice museum, as well as a visit to the theater itself. While we were there, we watched a one-act play called One Destiny, which deals with the Lincoln Assassination from the perspective of the actors and managers at the theater. Not a bad show, though I have seen better.

The National Building Museum was gorgeous. The decor and architecture were quite impressive, as were the exhibits. The boy liked crawling around the enormous central room, which has been the home to many events from architectural continuing education classes to presidential inaugural balls. His mother and I perused the exhibits and were amused by the many offerings of the museum's outrageously expensive giftshop.

We took the requisite photos of the boy with several prominent landmarks, then went home to rest up. Wifey and I did get some rest, but the boy seemed quite out of sorts and cried a lot. We were afraid he would make a bad impression on our friend who was planning on giving us the tour.

We had pizza for dinner, then dressed in business casual and headed back into D.C. We took a little walking tour along Pennsylvania Avenue with Momma and Poppa and then met our friend at the corner of 17th and Pennsylvania around 8:20.

The West Wing was great, but it was even more fun to connect with an old friend and see how her life is going. We got some good pictures of the boy in front of the Press Room at the White House -- will enjoy those a lot when he's older.

In all, it was a wonderful day, but it left us pretty tired. We went home, cuddled up with a little bit of good-night Gilmore Girls, and went to bed quite happy.

The Blessings

Delay Averted. On the way into the city in the morning, Momma was driving. The GPS told her to take the High-Occupancy Vehicle (HOV) lane on the beltway, but she decided to go on the main highway instead. About two minutes later, we passed a several-mile-long line of cars at a dead stop in the HOV lane. We later found that they had been stopped so police could investigate shots fired at the Pentagon. Momma's split-second decision saved hours of our day and let us visit the theater and museum before heading home.

Getting to See the West Wing. As I mentioned in my last post, we had thought we wouldn't be able to visit the West Wing. So it was both unexpected and welcome when our friend was able to get us in after all.

Having a Happy Baby. I was afraid the boy would be cranky all evening, but after a good feeding and a nice nap, he was all smiles. It was great to have him with us and get to see his little eyes widen at the cars zooming by on Pennsylvania Ave.

Seeing an Old Friend. It's always a delight to me to see what God has been doing in the lives of friends I've spent time with in the past. I guess I find it so encouraging because it bears out the truth of Philippians 1:6 - "He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus."

Vacation Blessings: Day 4

2010-10-18T22:00:00.003-05:00

The Trip

One of the places my sweet wifey was most excited about visiting during this trip: IKEA. We had heard it was HUGE, so we decided to devote an entire day to visiting it. So that's what we did today.

We went to the Woodbridge IKEA, though there are others nearby, including one in Baltimore. At first, I wasn't sure what to expect. My wifey was certainly looking forward to it, but I was undecided. From the moment we walked into the store, though, I was hooked.

There was so much to love that I hardly know where to begin. Maybe a bulleted list would come closest to doing it justice:

The shopping lists. At the entrance of the store, there are shopping lists with little pencils for keeping track of all the items that interest you. Then, when you are done, you can go to a big warehouse on the bottom floor and pick out the box(es) of the items(s) that interest(s) you. This makes so much more sense than the you-are-at-the-mercy-of-a-capricious-salesperson ordering method used by most furniture stores! Plus, it cuts overhead and allows shoppers to move along at their own pace.
The merchandise transportation options. You can choose between a shopping cart, a yellow canvas bag (with a handy little dolly to wheel it along as it gets fuller and fuller), or a flatbed cart for moving large objects. And the shopping carts are especially amazing -- they are perfectly smooth, with plenty of bearings in each wheel assembly, and each wheel pivoting 360 degrees, with a zero-turn radius for easy maneuvering in cramped spaces.
The selection. There is a huge variety of well-designed and well-manufactured products for the home. Sort of like a cross between a furniture store and a Bed, Bath, and Beyond.
The food. We had lunch at the in-store cafeteria, where I had a shrimp-and-boiled egg sandwich and a vegetarian crepe... for like $4.00. And the desserts were buy one, get one free! Yummerz.
The toys. Found a really fun wooden train set just like the ones I used to love playing with as a child! It will be for the boy's second or third Christmas, I think. Also got him a plush soccer ball so he can start practicing now to be the next Pele.
The prices. Everything seemed really affordable -- and certainly more so than I have seen in a furniture store. In almost every department, I found something that knocked my socks off with its great value.

In short, IKEA is my new favorite. I'm so glad we don't have one near us, because it ranks right up there with used bookstores as the sort of place where it would be very easy for me to spend WAY too much money. Not much else to report for the day -- but I think this was plenty for us all.

The Blessings

Time With my Sweet Wife and Baby. I love being able to spend all day with my little family. They are really enjoyable! I especially enjoyed toting the boy around in our Moby wrap. It lets me cuddle him hands-free and allows him look around all he wants to, if he is facing forward. When he gets tired, I can turn him toward me, tuck his head into the wrap, and let him sleep while I continue walking. It's really fun being so close to him.

Time With Our "Momma." Our hostess is great -- it was very nice to be able to catch up with her as we made our way through IKEA's halls of wonder.

Good News From an Old Friend. One of our friends who works for the White House Office of Management and Budget had tried (alas, unsuccessfully) to get us scheduled for a tour of the West Wing. We weren't too depressed about missing it, but it would have been really neat to see the WW. And then, as we were moving through the bedroom section of IKEA, I got a call from her saying that she was able to set a tour up for us after all. What a nice favor from the Lord! :-)

Comfort. We talked a lot with our "Momma" about a recent death in our church back home. It was sweet to be able to comfort and be comforted by her in our mutual grief for the family. Even in times of grief, it is encouraging to know that God is using the situation to bring His folk closer to each other.

Vacation Blessings: Day 3

2010-10-17T22:00:00.064-05:00

The Trip

It was time for the long haul. The last two days were really just practice for this true, all-day road trip. We left from Corinth at about 6:45, after grabbing a bowl of cereal, a couple of bagels, and a pocketful of granola bars. As we left the building, I think I may have heard a sigh of relief emanating from Room 102.

We drove through northern Mississippi, then through Alabama and up to Chattanooga, TN. We dipped briefly through Georgia, then headed through Tennessee toward Virginia. We had originally planned on stopping for lunch in Chattanooga, but as we drove, we became more and more anxious to get to Virginia before 1 a.m., so we elected to spend as little time as possible outside the car.

As we drove, we finished up our marriage study, looked for license tags from various states, and listened to a lot of Caedmon's Call.

We made very good time on this drive, and finally rolled into Burke, VA at about 10:30 EDT (which would have been 9:30 CDT). We visited for a little while with our dear friends, then, exhausted, climbed into bed. The boy woke up a few times in the night because he had slept so much in the car, but overall, we had a great sleep.

It was good to be there at last.

The Blessings

More Safe Driving. About 13-14 hours on the road, and no major incidents. God was certainly protecting us and keeping us from having car trouble.

No Emotional Explosions. Traveling can be a very difficult time for us -- particularly me. There's something about giving directions and deciding travel routes that makes me very defensive. That didn't happen a single time on this drive -- thanks in part, I'm sure, to Dr. Eggerichs.

Seeing Our Friends. They have been very influential in our lives. Their son and daughter were our best friends when we were growing up. Much of our courtship was conducted either at their home or near it. They encouraged us, did our marriage counseling, and had us over for lunch almost every week.

It's an amazing feeling to come home again, even when that home is halfway across the country from where it used to be.

Vacation Blessings: Day 2

2010-10-16T22:00:00.083-05:00

The Trip

After the boy's first feeding (around 0530), we grabbed a continental breakfast at the Discomfort Inn (no bagels - par for the course, I suppose) and hit the road.

Outside, much to our respective reliefs, we found that our carseat had not been stolen. When my sweetie and boy were safely nestled in the car, I went back inside to grab some coffee and was hit on by two late middle-aged ladies who complimented my M&M pajama pants. One of them asked if I liked her nightshirt, which said, "Do Not Disturb."

No danger of that, I said to myself. To her, I said with a polite laugh, "Oh yes, it's quite clever; bye!"

Our drive to Corinth, MS was fairly uneventful, except that Google Maps advised us to take Highway 20 south out of Dyersburg, TN, despite the fact that Highway 20 does not exist there. This caused us some consternation, but also amused us and enabled us to learn more about the geography of beautiful western Tennessee.

We arrived in Corinth at about 2:30 and checked into Room 100 of the Econolodge, which was a good deal nicer than the Discomfort Inn we had stayed in the night before. After settling in, we went to visit Grandma at her retirement home. It was a beautiful building where she seemed to be fairly comfortable, and we talked with her for about 3 and a half hours.

After we were done visiting with grandma (it was getting close to her bedtime), we went with Aunt Mary and Uncle Phil to Pizza Grocery, where they had the shrimp and grits and we split a much more prosaic pizza. It was great to have some time with them, especially since Magen had only met Aunt Mary once and I hadn't seen Uncle Phil for about 18 years.

The night was a good one, except that the boy awoke several times. We tried to get him quickly each time so our anonymous neighbors in Room 102 wouldn't curse us unnecessarily.

The Blessings

Another day of Safe Driving -- hours and hours in the car, but no crashes or near-crashes.

Making It. Despite the best efforts of the Google Maps gremlins, we made it to Corinth ahead of schedule.

Happy Baby. The boy has been quite impressive on this trip. He hasn't fussed very much at all, and he has been a pure joy to me when I've gotten to hold him on our rest / fill-up stops.

Seeing Grandma. I haven't seen Grandma since before Grandpa died, and the boy had never met her. She loved having us visit; her joy more than rewarded our drive. It's sad to see her in so much pain, but nice to know that she is in a nice place surrounded by caring people.

Spending time with Aunt + Uncle. It was great to see my aunt and uncle. It was also really sweet of them to remember my birthday and have a birthday pizza come out afterwards. We really enjoyed visiting with them.

Vacation Blessings: Day 1

2010-10-15T22:00:00.010-05:00

Blogger's Note: This is the inaugural post in my series of Vacation Blessings. I have obtained two weeks of paid leave from my place of gainful employment to relax, refresh, and reinvigorate. My wife, sweet son, and I are therefore road-tripping to see my Grandmother and Aunt in Corinth, MS, and then headed out to Burke, VA to see some dear friends.

The Trip

Got off work and headed west on I- 70. Drove a while and then stopped for the night at a Super 8 in Kingdom City, MO. We had initially thought of stopping at the Comfort Inn across the highway, but we intended to do some shopping around to ensure we weren't missing any fantastic hotel deals in the vicinity.

Our good intentions lasted through the second hotel we hit, Super 8. They offered us a room for $9 less than the Comfort Inn, and when I returned to the car to discuss the matter with Wifey, I found her tired and the baby cranky for lack of milk, so I took Super 8's offer.

Subsequently, we found out why it was $9 less. The room wasn't great, and Wifey was afraid to leave the boy's carseat outside for fear that someone would break into our car to steal it. We affectionately nicknamed the hotel the "Discomfort Inn." It wasn't terrible, but it wasn't nearly as nice-looking as the Comfort Inn had been. Overall, not a bad night, but nothing to tweet @Mom about.

The Blessings

Where do I start? Oh, yes: Paid Vacation. It is so nice to have three weeks (plus a day or two) of paid vacation / sick leave per year. I especially like that it is all combined into one lump of paid time off so I'm not tempted to be dishonest in order to use sick leave as vacation time. On top of that, I get to come back to a job I genuinely enjoy after my vacation is done.

Date Time. On the way to Kingdom City, we discussed our marriage, our relationship, our communication, and our attitudes with the help of a marriage workbook from Dr. Emerson Eggerichs. I don't agree with the man in some areas (such as his fundamental concept of gender and his belief that God designed marriages to have conflict), but I have found his ideas very useful in facilitating communication about our values, assumptions, and needs. His concept of "The Crazy Cycle" is especially enlightening.

We've only been looking at the material for a couple of weeks, but I already feel like I have grown a lot closer to Wifey and learned a great deal about what she needs in our relationship.

Reliable Vehicle. No breakdowns, overheating, bad brakes, or any other issues so far. We are so happy to have a paid-for vehicle that can reliably transport us and our stuff halfway across the country and back!

Anticipation. The beginning of a journey is always filled with hope, expectations, and happy thoughts about what lies ahead. Proverbs 13:12 says that hope deferred makes the heart sick. I think about this verse about each time something goes differently than I had wanted. I think this concept is also what made it so hard when a seven-week-old baby in our church died a couple of weeks ago. But the verse also contains the flip-side of that truth: A longing fulfilled is a tree of life.

Here's hoping that this trip fulfills our longings!

Open Note to Rev. Terry Jones of Gainesville

2010-09-10T07:58:00.000-05:00

For background, look here, here, and here.

Dear Rev. Jones,

Thank you for (maybe) canceling your burning of the Qur'an.

That was your attaboy; now for your beatdown.

You should probably re-read Matthew 10:16 - "Behold, I send you out as sheep in the midst of wolves; so be shrewd as serpents and innocent as doves."

Rev. Jones, what on earth were you thinking? Your plan to burn the Qur'an on 9/11 (or possibly try to blackmail someone into moving the site of the "Ground Zero" mosque) was neither shrewd nor harmless.

I agree with you that the Bible is God's word and is powerful and can change people. But think about it -- how does burning someone else's holy book make yours any more potent? In fact, doesn't it betray a lack of confidence in the efficacy of yours?

Throughout this whole series of events, you took advantage of the freedom you have in the United States and used it to threaten the lives of Christians all over the globe. Yes, you have the right to burn the Qur'an. But what in Heaven's name made you think "Gee, that sure would be a good idea"?

The God you and I profess is not glorified when we tear down other people's idols. Now, when we cast down our own, that might do something. How about if you attack the idol of your hunger for publicity, I attack the idol of my foolish self-righteousness, and we call each other in the morning?

Praying for you. Your fellow failure,

luaphacim

My Best-Laid Plans... And the Better Things That Come

2010-08-06T23:30:00.005-05:00

I'm not supposed to be home this weekend.

I had fully intended to be at Hutchmoot 2010 right now. I had dreamed, schemed, planned, and budgeted for it. I had even gotten my boss's permission to take the day off even though we would be understaffed without me.

All that remained, in short, was to actually buy the tickets, and maybe check out some of the recommended reading material from my local library. Annie Dillard, C. S. Lewis, Flannery O'Connor, Walt Wangerin, Jr., and many others were to be there in printed form, and Wangerin was also slated to show up in person. And, of course, the icing on the cake: Andrew Peterson, Ben Shive, Andy Gullahorn, and other great musicians. Literature, music, and late-night desserts and coffee with some of the most interesting people one could wish to meet.

So why am I sitting at home this evening instead of being spiritually, aesthetically, and intellectually fed at Hutchmoot 2010? Honestly, I'm not quite sure. Maybe bad luck, maybe poor planning, maybe my no-good pig-stealing great-great-grandfather.

Here's how it happened:

May 5, 2010
I learn about Hutchmoot 2010 on The Rabbit Room, which has recently become one of my must-read blogs. It sounds great: Discussions about art and aesthetics with other Christians who care about those things. And not only that, but also a chance for really good seats at the release concert for Andrew Peterson's Counting Stars album. And not only that, but an opportunity to meet some of the people whose writing I have admired for some time.

Awesome, right? I start to align the stars in my mini-firmament: planning, scheming, crunching the numbers to figure out how I will pay for the expedition to Nashville, and even obtaining a co-conspirator to go with me.

It takes me a couple of weeks to obtain buyoff from all the stakeholders (especially my sweet spouse and my boss), but soon, I am ready.

May 14, 2010
I am over at a friend's house for the evening. I have finalized my plans and am ready to register. I am on my friend's computer, just about to pay the registration fee, when my phone rings.

It's my wife, calling to see if I spent several hundred dollars at iPath Footwear. I haven't.

I also haven't spent a hundred dollars at HomeShoppingNetwork.com or a couple hundred to purchase a subscription to a scholarly journal.

Needless to say, I do not register for Hutchmoot 2010 this evening. Instead, I spend quite a bit of time checking my bank account and cancelling my debit card.

May 17, 2010
After using my lunch and breaks to get things straightened out with my debit card, I come home from work and prepare to register for the event. Then, I see this:

Update 3:40pm: The Hutchmoot is now full. If you missed your chance this year, we hope to see you in 2011.

Proverbs 13:12 says, "Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life." That's about how I was feeling after coming home to that announcement on May 17.

And if that had been the end of the story, I can imagine myself being a little bit bitter, angry that someone else's sinful behavior had made me miss something I was really looking forward to.

But fortunately, there's more (as there always is). Romans 8:28-30 says,

And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose. For those whom He foreknew, He also predestined to become conformed to the image of His Son, so that He would be the firstborn among many brethren; and these whom He predestined, He also called; and these whom He called, He also justified; and these whom He justified, He also glorified.

In other words, no matter how I feel about what's happening, I can rest assured that I will benefit from it. The work described in verses 29-30 is not always pleasant, but nonetheless, it's exciting to know that almighty God is working on ME. He has a goal for me and is using every single thing that happens in my life to move me closer to that goal.

So that's the first good thing that comes from this event: I can be sure that, one way or another, this is leading me closer to glorification with Christ. But there are so many other blessings that have come from this weekend at home:

A co-worker of mine got to leave early when he needed to on Friday, since I wasn't going to be gone after all
I had a delightful date with my wife and baby at various art galleries, followed by a delicious dinner and cuddling at home
We had a great time at a good friend's daughter's first birthday party in Kansas City on Saturday
On our way home, we stopped through our old college town for shopping and sushi
We got to see my brother's wonderful family Saturday night since they came over to our house for baths (their tub was being painted)

In short, it was a great weekend of growing closer to my wife and son and enjoying our family and the blessings God has given us. And if my debit card information hadn't been stolen on May 14, I would have missed out on all this great stuff!

All of this just demonsrates once again a lesson that I have had a very hard time learning: my disappointment isn't the end of good things. In fact, it seems like what comes after the disappointment is even better than what I had planned for myself.

To the person who thwarted my dreams of Hutchmoot 2010 by obtaining my card information and using it to buy fancy shoes and scholarly journals: I forgive you. If I may paraphrase Joseph in Genesis 50:20, you may have meant this thing for evil, but God meant it for good.

The Boy and the Cars

2010-08-05T06:51:00.000-05:00

There are some advantages to living by a busy street. For instance, the street can entertain my son when I don't feel like it...

Review: Rob Bell's "Velvet Elvis"

2010-07-28T19:07:00.003-05:00

I won't lie: I was somewhat hesitant to read Rob Bell's book, Velvet Elvis. I had heard many disturbing things about the author. For example:

He is a heretic
He denies the inerrancy of scripture
He denies the immutability of scripture
He denies the immaculate conception of Christ
He denies Christ's substitutionary atonement for the sins of the world
He secretly devours the souls of small children

Since I do not normally enjoy the company of heretics or baby-soul-eaters, I had my doubts about reading anything by this man. However, I also believe in giving people a chance to speak for themselves. Also, my friend Joseph Lynch generously offered to lend me Velvet Elvis, so I didn't even have to check it out at the library or purchase it in order to peruse Mr. Bell's ideas.

I knew Bell's ideas have been labeled as revolutionary, so I was ready for some new concepts in his writing. Prepared though I was, what I found in this book shocked me. More on that later; first, let me summarize the book so you can be ready to make a semi-informed snap decision about how heretical it is.

Bell's project is an ambitious one. His main premise is that modern Christianity (and, in particular, Evangelical Christian ecclesiology, exegesis, and theology proper) is fair game for review, rethinking, and revision. He writes,

As part of [the Protestant] tradition, I embrace the need to keep painting, to keep reforming. By this I do not mean cosmetic, superficial changes ... I mean theology: the beliefs about God, Jesus, the Bible, salvation, the future. We must keep reforming the way the Christian faith is defined, lived, and explained."¹

Right now, if you're anything like me, you're thinking, "Them is some mighty big britches for one man to fill."

But big britches or no, Bell does an admirable job of creating an accessible, interesting, and even compelling case for his postmodern Christian credo. He uses powerful metaphors to build his approach, and, rhetorically, his use of scripture to support his assertions is masterful (especially since his arguments are fairly certain to face vocal opposition from the "sola scriptura" crowd).

Despite Bell's implication that he will be shaking the very underpinnings of the Christian faith, his project is not one of overturning orthodoxy. Rather, he wants to shift the focus of what he sees as a dry, dull Christianity back to the things that made the teachings of Jesus so compelling:

His offer of access to an otherwise unknowable God
His promise to be our Way -- our only Way
His love for marginalized people
His genuine humanity (as seen in His anguished cry, "My God, my God, why have your forsaken me?")
The transcendent love and joy He offers to those who follow Him²

After the first chapter (or "movement"), Bell does a series of close readings that interpret various teachings of Christ through a sociohistorical lens. In short, he brings historical knowledge to bear in his readings of Christ as one who consciously chose to teach within his own people's tradition: that of the Jewish rabbis.

For example, Bell reads the "yoke" of Christ in Matthew 11:30 as a technical rabbinical term referring to a rabbi's body of teaching. The "binding and loosing" of Matt. 16:19, again, is a technical rabbinical term referring to the strictness of a given rabbi's interpretation of the Torah. Again, these interpretations rely on extrabiblical knowledge, but Bell sees them as having a great deal to do with how Christians should read and apply Biblical truth. They also lead him to conclude that scriptural interpretation -- the binding and loosing and wrestling that are involved in exegesis -- are, or should be, a community-oriented endeavor. (The individualistic founders of the Reformation may now begin barrel-rolling in their respective Papally desecrated graves.)³

Bell goes on to argue that:

The world is full of God's truth -- even outside of Scripture and the lives of believers -- wherever there is Good or Right or Beauty (Movement Three)
The Bible teaches invaluable lessons for modern life, such as the practice of the Sabbath and the need for leaders to draw strength from the source they point everyone else toward (Movement Four)
God has a much higher opinion of people than we do of ourselves or of others (Movement Five)
God's work in our lives is to take the old us -- the real, old us, that was made in His image and then fell away -- and remake us. In essence, to repair us (Movement Six)
The Church's role is to be an agent of change and a conduit of God's Goodness to the world (Movement Seven)

So, then -- I'll answer the questions I raised earlier, since you're probably getting tired of my rambling and would like me to cut to the chase.

Is Rob Bell a heretic? Does he deny inerrancy, immutability, immaculate conception, and substitutionary atonement? In short, is this book teaching a new gospel?

The answer: no, not that I could see. In some areas, he dances toward the boundaries of orthodoxy, perhaps, but after prayer and close reading, I must say I did not find any false teaching in this book.

So what shocking thing did I find in this book? It was really, really encouraging to me. It made me love God more deeply and think about His word in new ways. In short, it is probably the most invigorating set of new ideas that my spirit has experienced in the past three years. I especially loved the way that Bell tries to reclaim the good things in the world -- the things which, after all, come from the unchanging Father of lights.

I don't agree with everything Bell writes, by any means. I'm not sure I buy his sociohistorical readings of the "yoke" and "binding and loosing" concepts. I'm also a little uncomfortable with the fact that he mentions atonement, sin, judgment, and redemption only in passing. Nonetheless, Bell has a refreshing perspective and a lot of important ideas. If you are a spiritually mature believer in Christ Jesus, read this book. At the very least, it'll give you something to think about.

(P.S.: No, he doesn't eat the souls of small children.)

¹ Bell, Rob. Velvet Elvis. Zondervan: Grand Rapids, 2005, p. 12.
² Ibid., pp. 20-36
³ Ibid., pp. 66-69

Writing and WRITING and Insurance, Oh My.

2010-07-06T23:31:00.000-05:00

Disclaimer: All situations described in this post are purely hypothetical and/or fictional. They have no bearing on any real person(s), company(ies), or letter(s). Any resemblance to any actual person(s), company(ies), or letter(s) is strictly coincidental.

I read this rather fine essay / blogpost yesterday, and it made me want to write. A lot. So, as I sometimes do, I resolved to write more. And as usually happens, that resolve was crushed into a very fine powder this morning by the inexorable, repetitive pounding of my index finger on the snooze button of my alarm clock.

After getting to work late, I worked like a madman all day because we were a person short and had a killer backlog in the wake of the three-day weekend. I worked through my scheduled shift as well as an hour of thoroughly frustrating unpaid overtime, then returned home and began to mow my jungle of a lawn.

As I mowed, I pondered the question of why my writing resolutions always come to nothing. The following Compelling And Pithy Answer came to me: Those who write for a living have a difficult time writing for the love of it. Like it or not, I am one of the former. Until that changes, I will always have difficulty forcing myself to write for the love of writing.

This line of thought led me to reflect further on my Other Writing -- the Writing I don't normally discuss with others because it is part of my daily capitalistic transactions with The Man. And, quite frankly, writing doesn't get much duller and drier than Life Insurance Letters. My first instinct was to consider this whole written genre inferior, simplistic, and much too common to be worthy of any kind of extended cogitation. Life insurance company employees write things like:

Dear Mr. Smith:

We are sorry to learn of Harriet Smith. Please accept our sincere condolences and extend them to the family.

Our records indicate the policy's beneficiary is Bill Smith, husband of the insured. In order to pay the claim against this life insurance policy, we require the following:
An original certified death certificate indicating Ms. Smith's cause and manner of death. The certificate will be returned upon request, as we are unable to accept a photocopy.
A Claim Form completed by you as beneficiary.
For your convenience, a self-addressed return envelope has been enclosed. If you have any questions, please contact our claim representatives at 1-800-LIFE-INS.
Sincerely,
Life Claims

Pretty prosaic, right? Bulleted, straightforward, written for the Lowest Common Denominator of readers. Certainly nothing my college English teachers would have given gold stars to.

But don't sell Life Insurance Letter-Writers short. They can be pretty suave and even artsy, in their own way, when the situation calls for it. For instance:

Dear Mr. Smith:
We value you as a customer and strive to provide you with exceptional customer service each and every time we do business with you. Please accept our sincere apologies for the problem that occurred with your policy's surrender check.
During a recent audit, it was discovered that you were inadvertently overpaid for the surrender of your policy. On June 1, 2010, a check in the amount of $20,000.00 was issued to you. According to our audit records, the correct surrender amount was $2,000.00.
We ask that the overpayment of $18,000.00 be returned to us. For your convenience, a self-addressed return envelope has been enclosed. If we do not hear from you within 30 days, this matter will be sent to our legal department for additional action.
Again, we sincerely apologize for any inconvenience this problem may have caused. We also apologize for any incorrect information you previously may have received regarding this overpayment. If you have any questions, please contact our service representatives at 1-800-LIFE-INS.
Sincerely,
Policyholder Services

Pretty straightforward, huh? You'd have to be pretty good at reading between the lines to guess that our hero(ine) is putting a brave face on the following facts:

The "audit" was just one of the guys in Finance who finally caught up on his suspense reconciliations and realized that an error had happened
The "inadvertent overpayment" occurred when a careless employee who had already given his two-week notice didn't stop to double-check the figures on a check he had requested (what a shock!)
The error should have been caught by Finance but never was because the ridiculously Byzantine approval process fosters a fiesta of feverish clicking rather than a rational review of each case
The customer had called in two weeks earlier to ask about the check and was assured that "everything is fine"
A week after that, a letter was sent informing the customer that he owed $1,800.00 for this overpayment
The letter-writer, having just spent an hour sorting out this issue and figuring out what the correct overpayment amount was, is tearing out his/her hair trying to leave his/her emotions out of this communiqué
There is no Legal Department, and if there was, they wouldn't touch this issue because they'd be afraid of complaints filed with the state insurance commission
The company doesn't utilize a collections agency for any overpayments under $20,000.00, so basically the letter-writer's only weapons are politeness and persistence

I hope you begin to see some of the artfulness and zeal that goes into this type of letter. They may not be pretty, but they can at least be functional.

In closing, I put the question to you, dear reader: With all the effort and emotional energy expended on cases like the one above, is it any wonder that people who have to write for a living have trouble writing simply for the love of it?

I thought not.

Good Gracious, NY Times!

2010-05-10T20:45:00.000-05:00

The New York Times has really slipped of late. Once a paragon of journalistic integrity, it now regularly runs items that mislead -- if not downright lie to -- its credulous readers.

The latest example I have seen:

Mr. Scott is frequently damned and praised as a stylist, a genre-driven filmmaker whose aesthetic — the steampunk look of “Alien” and “Blade Runner” is now aped in the décor of various boutique hotels — is often seen as more influential than his films.

No, no, no, a thousand times no. This is not steampunk:

This is steampunk:

Yet another case of a second-rate journalist picking up a buzzword and running with it. This is what happens when the copy editor of the student-run university newspaper does not possess the killer instinct of a ravenous wolverine: the mediocre reporters survive (and even thrive). Even worse, the copy editors themselves become lazy, lethargic, and forgetful of their responsibility to be faithful fact-checkers rather than just picky punctuation police or stolid syntacticians.

While the survival of the mediocre is not an obvious evil, it does contain an insidious threat. Survival allows these poor benighted souls, blind to their own inadequacies, to spread their terminal plague of near-competence to every corner of the journalistic world. Regrettably, this includes even the ivory tower that, once upon a time, was the New York Times.

Human Sacrifice, Cannibalism, and Good Friday

2010-04-02T12:11:00.000-05:00

It’s like a scene from a horror film.

A terrified young man struggles against the ropes that cut into his flesh, keeping him stationary on the cold stones of the altar. Meanwhile, a wizened old man in his twilight years, crazed eyes full of pious resignation, takes a deadly dagger from his belt and holds it shakily over the boy’s throat.

All the man has to do is cut. He is very good at this. He’s done it thousands of times to sheep, to cattle, but never to a human. Certainly never to his only son.

His eyes tear up, and his soul is anguished within, but this thing must be done. He blinks several times, rapidly, and steels himself to do it. He tries not to hear his son’s fearful, pleading cries for mercy. One keen thrust, one quick pull, and it will be finished.

You know the rest of the story, no doubt. If you don’t, it’s in Genesis 22: A voice from Heaven, a divinely appointed ram in the thicket, and a blessing from God before father and son descended together from Mount Moriah.

But what if the scene had ended differently?

What if the knife had plunged, the blood had gushed, and the stench of burning hair and meat and bone that afternoon had come from Isaac’s body instead of from some hapless ram?

What if Abraham had knelt down and lapped up the pools of his son’s blood? What if he had sliced off chunks of the boy’s flesh and devoured them greedily, hoping to gain life and forgiveness of sins from the young man’s vitality and innocence?

I hope that image is disturbing to you; I know it is to me. And yet, as a Christian, my salvation from sin and death depends on an even grimmer scene.

A man who loved all – especially the weak, the outcasts, and the misfits – is betrayed by one of his closest friends into the hands of his enemies. He is spat on, mocked, and abused at the hands of his captors. He is stripped naked; strangers gamble for his clothing.

A man who did no wrong – and, indeed, who spoke out against corruption and hypocrisy – is falsely accused before the civil and religious authorities. The only charge they can prove against him is that he claims to be the son of God – a claim that his teachings and miracles seem to support.

A man who brought wholeness and joy – healing the sick, making the lame walk and the blind see, even casting out demons and raising the dead – is beaten, tortured, and crucified. The skin of his back is torn to ribbons from repeated scourging, a crown of thorns is pressed down onto his head, and he is nailed to a cross to die the slow, painful, humiliating death of a criminal.

The very son of God —the one who left a heavenly throne for an earthly life of trouble and tears – has the full wrath of his Father poured out on him as he suffers on the cross. He who despises sin with every part of his being becomes the very thing he hates so God can punish him on our behalf.

Somehow, surrounded by the filth and stench and buzzing flies of the town refuse heap, dripping blood and overwhelmed by the pain of the cross, my salvation was born from Christ’s suffering. My life was wrought from his death. My darkness was suddenly flooded with a light I could not have known without the cross.

It is a fearful mystery, and one beyond my comprehension. I don’t pretend to understand God’s motivation or why he worked it out the way He did. I think the best explanation is probably in the 53^rd chapter of the prophet Isaiah:

He was oppressed and He was afflicted,
         Yet He did not open His mouth;
         Like a lamb that is led to slaughter,
         And like a sheep that is silent before its shearers,
         So He did not open His mouth.
    By oppression and judgment He was taken away;
         And as for His generation, who considered
         That He was cut off out of the land of the living
         For the transgression of my people, to whom the stroke was due?
    His grave was assigned with wicked men,
         Yet He was with a rich man in His death,
         Because He had done no violence,
         Nor was there any deceit in His mouth.
    But the LORD was pleased
         To crush Him, putting Him to grief;
         If He would render Himself as a guilt offering,
         He will see His offspring,
         He will prolong His days,
         And the good pleasure of the LORD will prosper in His hand.
    As a result of the anguish of His soul,
         He will see it and be satisfied;
         By His knowledge the Righteous One,
         My Servant, will justify the many,
         As He will bear their iniquities.

So that’s the human sacrifice: almighty God, in human form, gave himself up as a guilt offering for my sins and yours. But don’t go yet; I also promised you cannibalism!

In John 6, Christ says:

"Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink His blood, you have no life in yourselves.

"He who eats My flesh and drinks My blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day.

"For My flesh is true food, and My blood is true drink.

"He who eats My flesh and drinks My blood abides in Me, and I in him.

"As the living Father sent Me, and I live because of the Father, so he who eats Me, he also will live because of Me.

"This is the bread which came down out of heaven; not as the fathers ate and died; he who eats this bread will live forever."

This saying was a mysterious one, and it turned off a lot of his fair-weather followers (some of whom simply saw how Jesus multiplied the loaves and fishes and wanted to get more free food out of him). Many of his followers turned away after this teaching – and who can blame them? Cannibalism is repulsive. Yet, in a sense, when we come to Christ, it is what we practice. By believing him and accepting his sacrifice on our behalf, we admit that our very sustenance comes from his broken body, and that our forgiveness comes from his shed blood.

In Mark 14, we see more elaboration of what Christ meant when he talked about eating his body and drinking his blood:

While they were eating, He took some bread, and after a blessing He broke it, and gave it to them, and said, "Take it; this is My body."

And when He had taken a cup and given thanks, He gave it to them, and they all drank from it.

And He said to them, "This is My blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many.

"Truly I say to you, I will never again drink of the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God."

Here, Christ isn’t literally slicing off pieces of himself and passing them around as snacks. Nor is he draining a vein and passing his literal blood around in juice cups. Rather, he is instituting a symbol to help his followers remember who they are – and, just as importantly, whose they are and what they believe. He knows that, in the future, as often as they replicate this ceremony, they will do so in remembrance of him and of the sacrifice he made on their behalf.

The horrors of what we remember on Good Friday are indeed strong. In fact, when I initially began contemplating what this day means, I was a little indignant at its name. How can such inexpressible pain and suffering be called good? How can we call a day “good” on which the only perfect one was brutally murdered for sins he did not commit?

Then I remembered that, although this day wasn’t good for the one who died, it also brought hope to the whole world. Upon reflection, I must conclude that my own life would be hollow and bereft of meaning if Good Friday had never occurred. Because of the suffering that occurred on that cross about two millennia ago, I have life, hope, and peace that are not my own.

And that is reason enough for me to agree that, despite the human sacrifice and the cannibalism, it remains a very Good Friday indeed.

timeout

2010-01-31T14:05:00.005-06:00

ERROR: timeout

each print job a unique piece
of correspondence,
informing welathy businessmen
and penniless widows alike
of "important information
regarding your life insurance policy" --
beneficiary designations,
policy changes,
requests Not In Good Order --
a trove of life-or-death information
frozen in a digital limbo,
irrecoverable.

OFFENDING COMMAND: timeout

too many, too fast,
print device not ready:
error printouts
instead of carefully crafted letters,
the opposite of useful on this busiest day
of the tax season,
when recently bereaved lovers
and cranky old retirees
queue up telephonically,
dozens deep,
for policy information
and claim forms,
a day when it is all you can do
to hit "print" between calls.

STACK:

and now, all those hurried "prints"
add up to something
whose sum is less than nothing,
a timeout
on a day when there simply is
no more time

What Have I Done?

2010-01-07T21:30:00.001-06:00

You can't see this, O my faithful reader(s), but I have been reasonably busy since last you heard from me. In the waning months of 2009, I:

* Read some books
* Felt my little baby trying to kick his/her way out of my wife's womb
* Worked like a madman
* Sang some songs
* Got to see Andrew Peterson and the wonderful musicians who were with him on the Lamb of God tour
* Dealt daily with my fleshly desires and sinful tendencies
* Led a kids' club for church
* Met some wonderful new friends
* Enjoyed some wonderful old ones
* Had an unforgettable campout with men from my small group
* Got stuck in a snowy parking lot
* Wrassled with my pride
* Spent almost a week living with my in-laws because of inclement weather and holidays
* Broke my lawnmower, but right before it snowed, so it's ok
* Started writing a novel
* Struggled writing a novel
* Stopped writing a novel
* Applied for some new jobs
* Didn't get them
* Was very ok with that -- the process taught me how great my current job is
* And a host of other things

Life, in other words, has been proceeding apace. I get up in the morning, run if I'm not too sleepy (in other words, run VERY occasionally), grab a string cheese for breakfast, go to work, drink some coffee, do my best to be productive and competent for about nine hours, go home, have dinner, do stuff with my wife or friends or brothers and sisters from church, maybe play a game or watch an episode of Numb3rs or The Office, read a little bit, pray, and sleep.

Today at lunch, I was talking with the 1:00 p.m. lunch crew about LeBron James, the 25-year-old phenom who plays for the Cavs and whose monster ego nearly matches his impressive feats on the hardwood. During the course of the conversation, I mentioned that nothing could compel me to trade places with him.

I have a rewarding job, enough money to meet my obligations, a beautiful wife, an energetic baby on the way, a very satisfying relationship with God, many friends, a great family, and, in general, an exceptionally nice life. Things happen to remind me of my proper place in the universe and to make me very glad that I'm in it.

Why on earth would I want to trade this for the pressure-filled, performance-demanding life of a superstar who makes too much money, is surrounded by hangers-on, and has entirely too high an opinion of himself? If anything, I pity the man. He's never known a moment of normalcy, and he's been pushed to do too much, too early.

My friends at lunch think I'm crazy. "I'd take his life in a heartbeat," one of them told me. "I could sure find a way to use that money, and who wouldn't want to be famous and amazingly good at sports like that?"

Me, that's who. I guess when you're satisfied with what you have, it's hard to imagine wanting to move.

Leaves of Grass: A (Silly) Song of My Lawn

2009-09-12T12:39:00.004-05:00

Sorry, Mr. Whitman...

Leaves of Grass: A (Silly) Song of My Lawn

The verdant lawn outside my house is shimmering with dew,
Glistening with anticipation of the sun's photosynthetic joys!
At dawn it glows and glimmers, standing mightily above the other lawns,
It is the king of lawns, the lord of all the grasslands!
Proudly my lawn stands, a giant among lawns, reigning unquestioned.
Of my lawn I sing.
O how immense is my lawn's stature!
O How limitless its expanses!

The lawn of the old lady next door is a neat-clipped lawn,
A cringing, cowering, dog of a lawn,
Quickened only by the lively excrements of my mighty lawn,
Basking wistfully in the glow of my verdant lawn.
O miserable lawn of the old lady next door!
How I pity your sterile neatness, your shocking lack of biodiversity!
Next to my lawn, how plain, how uninteresting, how deplorably orderly.
O close-trimmed, lifeless lawn, how boring you look!

And yet my lawn grows too much, yes, even for me,
The one whose artful neglect has caused its towering greatness.
O unrepenant lawn! How ungrateful your tall, weedy stems!
How you have forgotten the one who allowed you to reach such great heights,
To be the ruler of all you survey?
Why must you grow taller than the meager mind of man can fathom?
A day of retribution will come to you, my once-proud lawn, yes, has come even now!
My wrath will mow you down; I'll translate your pride into clippings.

Then, O lawn, how low you will be! How piteous! How utterly stricken!
Your shavings will be gathered in lifeless mounds,
Clippings good only for fertilizer.
Even the old lady's lawn will tower over you, O lawn of rebellion.
O lifeless lawn! How still your form, how shapeless your mown self will be!
And yet hope remains, O lawn of my youth, lawn of my vigor.
In the spring, after a deep sleep beneath the snowy blankets of winter,
You will arise again, and shine forth, full of dandelions and weeds, to rule again!

And you will learn at last, when all is done,
When all the lawns around are once more subject to your might,
The truth I always wanted to impart:
You better not get too uppity, or I will cut you.

I had intended to keep this going for about another 140 stanzas, but I really need to go mow my jungle.

Things That Make Luaphacim Cringe: Car Title Loans

2009-06-13T18:31:00.003-05:00

There I am, working on my Sunday School lesson for tomorrow, when I hear the following on the TV in the background: "You can turn the equity in your car into cash! Checksmart will help!"

Very little annoys me more than making payments on things. I buy everything with cash if I can swing it, and if I can't swing it, I don't buy it unless it is, like, food, fuel, or utility bills. Paying cash gives me a feeling of security and keeps me from sliding toward that miry pit of slow-crushing minimum payments from which escape is so difficult. I dread arriving at the place where I am forced to live month-to-month, with little or no hope of ever getting ahead financially.

So the very idea of taking a paid-for automobile and signing a note for every cent it's worth (or, in the case of most car-title loans, more), seems like a recipe for disaster to this particular Luaphacim. I know it's probably just a personality quirk of mine, and I know there are probably people who genuinely need the services provided by title-loan places, but it just rubs me the wrong way all over. (Especially when the title-loan place has abusively high interest rates for past-due payments.)

What do YOU think, dear reader(s)? Is Luaphacim just a cranky (prematurely) old man, or is there something to his crankiness?

Home "Improvement" Tip

2009-06-07T22:24:00.004-05:00

Are you tired of the same old look? Need to put a little pizazz into your home's decor? Feel like laying down a fresh coat of paint, but first you want to do a skim coat to hide the irregularities in your wall?

I have spent several hours "improving" my home this weekend, and I would like to offer some simple advice to those of you who are contemplating such projects: "Let your conduct be without covetousness; be content with such things as you have." (Heb. 13:5)

That is all for now. I may give a more detail-laden account later, but don't count on it, as I am very, very tired. :-)

On the Run

2009-05-28T07:39:00.003-05:00

Ouch.

I ran this morning, and I made my first mistake before I even left the house: I decided to leave my cell phone behind. My reasons for doing so were two-fold. Firstly, I liked the idea of getting out of the house, completely unencumbered by any connections with the outside world. Secondly, and more importantly, there was no room for the phone in the pocket of my shorts. OK, I guess that technically there was room, but not much room, and I would rather have the phone left at home for a few minutes than have it bounce out onto the street and be crushed by a Mack truck because of insufficient pocket-space.

Why, you may ask, was it a mistake to leave my cell phone at home? Because, I respond, I have the time sense of an especially slow-witted jungle sloth. Which is to say a very bad time sense indeed. Consequently, I have need of some time-keeping device for my workouts, and my cell phone is the best choice, because I am a chronic loser of watches. (But I need my cell phone, so I manage to find it each time it becomes lost.) Thus, deciding to leave my cell phone at home threw me upon the tender mercies of yet another stunted faculty in my possession: my sense of distance. This, my dear reader(s), was my second mistake.

If possible, my sense of distance is even worse than my time sense. Really, it reminds me of the passage in one of Peter's epistles where he talks about how a day is as a thousand years to the Lord -- to me, a hundred meters is like a 5K, and a 5K is like a hundred meters. It should be no surprise, then, that I got it into my head that a certain main intersection not too far from my house was about a mile off, when actually the distance was a lot more like two miles. I had intended to give myself a fairly easy run (two miles, round-trip) since I haven't been running much lately, but instead, I ended up giving myself a run that was very nearly four miles. I arrived home about 35-40 minutes later (I didn't know exactly because I seemed to have forgotten my cell phone), panting with exhaustion and vague imprecations directed at my belly in specific and the universe in general.

My knees are killing me at the moment -- I'm used to running three miles on a treadmill, not four miles over terrain -- and I'm worn out. So that's the reason for the "Ouch" at the beginning of this post. I can only hope that my pain has brought you some small amusement at my expense. If, perchance, it has, I shall count it well worth the anguish I have borne this morning.

Happy Thursday! :-)

Yet Another Reason to Love Mrs. Luaphacim

2009-05-26T20:39:00.006-05:00

Excerpted from a conversation we had this evening:

Me: ...as you are aware, my love, past performance is not an indicator of future results.

Mrs. L: Yeah, but how else would people decide how to invest in the market? Seriously, you have to rely on past performance.

Me: That's true -- I suppose it's just an elegant fiction created to ensure that investors won't be able to say, "Wait, wait, I totally didn't know this wouldn't make money."

Mrs. L: Which reminds me... I've been seeing a lot of commercials on TV lately where companies are telling people how they've been around for years, and they're still doing things the way they've always done... so we should trust them.

Me: Yeah?

Mrs. L: I don't think I'd trust them - "Come buy from us! We've been around since the 1890's!" I'm not sure it's very profitable to barter goods and services for cows.

Me: *snorting with laughter, I try to prevent the nachos I'm eating from being forcibly ejected through my nose*

Peter the Great

2009-05-23T14:19:00.003-05:00

I'm at a coffee shop right now, and there is a free computer with internet access. On it is someone's project on Peter the Great. I thought you might enjoy learning some more about this most fearsome of Russian czars... enjoy. :-)

Peter the Great was born in 1672 and died in 1725.
Peter was Tsar of Russia from 1682 until 1725 when he died. His self given title was Peter the Great even though he was officially Peter the I.
Peter Centeralised government, Modernised the army, created a navy and increased the sublugation of the peasants.
His domestic policy allowed him to excute an agressive foriegn policy.
Peter the great was massivley powerful, "loud-mouthed, violent,ruthless, and impetus."
Peter always wanted to learn how to learn,and was very actice.
Peter learned to be a carpenter,talked to mathmetisians and learned how best to train soliders, including how to torture people.
Peter formed a small army out of his servants and used them to play war games.
Peter personality has been the cause of much debate and discussion in the 300 years since his death.
Its been said the peter is a very cruel unliked man.

Comfort

2009-05-21T07:55:00.004-05:00

It has been a really difficult few days. Thanks to all who called, e-mailed, and generally showed sympathy. I feel very blessed to have so many caring friends!

My older sister learned on Tuesday that she lost her baby -- I believe she was about 16 weeks along. It was especially hard for them because she had also lost a baby during her previous pregnancy.

Early Wednesday morning, as my younger brother and I headed back from our hometown, where we had been celebrating another brother's birthday, I wept for what seemed to be a very, very long time.

I mourned for my sister and brother-in-law, two of the nicest people I know, and for their children, who wouldn't have a chance to hold, care for, and get to know their new little brother. I mourned for the fragile life, so quickly snuffed out, and for my own fragile life, which could end just as unexpectedly. I mourned for lost potential, lost affection, lost time. I mourned this world's injustice, its needless pain, and the suffering it brings to the innocent.

Christ says in Matthew 5 that those who mourn are blessed because they will be comforted. But in the middle of the anguish, the doubt, and the hurt, those words are difficult to comprehend, and even more difficult to believe.

I suspect that a good portion of the comfort that is promised in Matthew 5 comes from realizing how much goodness still remains in our world. Wednesday, as I went to work, and played in the park with my nephews, and drove them to the hospital to see their parents, I was overwhelmed by how painless most of my existence is, how blessed I am with material things, and how much love surrounds me.

I know that this experience will remain with my family and me for the rest of our lives. Every time we receive an invitation to a baby shower, every time a baby cries in church, every time a child takes his first steps, we will remember the one who didn't make it. In September, when three of my sisters-in-law have babies, we will be painfully aware that we had been expecting a fourth one to be born in October.

Nonetheless, in the pain of this experience lies an opportunity for comfort. In my mind, it mirrors my spiritual redemption: If I had not realized my sinfulness, become keenly aware of how it was hurting me, and mourned the death and destruction that it brought, there would have been no repentance, no salvation, and no commitment to choose life instead of death, blessing instead of cursing. My mourning of my sin has brought me salvation, and continues to bring me closer to God.

Despite my lack of understanding of the sufferings of the past few days, I do have genuine hope that God will use them to strengthen and encourage my sister and her family. It still doesn't make any sense to me -- my sense of justice cries out that they, of all people, didn't deserve to have this happen. I know that God has control over the universe, but this seems like some kind of cosmic mistake. In the end, though, I still have to believe it will all work out to the good of us who love God and are called according to His purpose.

Death and pain are in the world because of sin, not because God wanted them to be here. And yet, through His divine alchemy, God transforms sorrow into comfort, fear into strength, ashes into beauty. My prayer is that my sister, our family, and I will be able to trust Him more each day, and to seek our strength from Him alone.

Heartbrake

2009-05-20T01:25:00.003-05:00

It is a curious thing:
Sometimes
right smack in the middle of my life
something happens
to make my heart
feel it wants to stop
and I don't know whether it will
would
should
could
start again.

Now, for example.

I have a favor to ask of you...

Please pray for me and my family, if you pray.

If not, please do whatever you do that is closest to that.

Thanks.

We Are All Going to Pay (Or Possibly Already Are Paying)

2009-04-09T20:11:00.009-05:00

I have been increasingly impressed of late with the marvels that surround me.

Take milk, for instance. I want a fresh, icy cold glass of it? No problem; I just get up off of my bed (which is engineered to be hypoallergenic and is packed with springs to keep my back from getting stiff at night), walk down the clean floorboards of my home to the kitchen, and open the magically cold box there. (Of course, this box isn't REALLY magic, but I know so little about refrigeration technology that it may as well be. Whenever an evil spirit possesses and afflicts it, causing it to spew water or get uncharacteristically warm inside, I call a shaman who casts a spell on it while I am away and bills me $40 per hour plus parts. Bam, magic box fixed.)

Upon opening said magic box, I remove from it a custom-made receptacle which is lightweight, yet sufficiently strong and durable to hold my milk without buckling or becoming soggy. This receptacle is so durable, in fact, that if I threw it in my backyard, it would remain there for years and years without decomposing. Which is why I take it to the magic receptacle-recycling location instead.

The receptacle has a lid on it to keep it airtight, thus effectively insulating my beverage from the evil spirits (called "germs" by some) which inhabit the world all around me. The lid, too, is doubtless made by shamans (unionized ones, I hope. If there's anything I can't abide, it is a scabbing shaman). The lid twists easily off and on and is reusable to an extent which is, for all intents and purposes, limitless.

I open the container and pour perfectly chilled, homogenized milk which is exactly 1% fat by volume and disease-free (the shamans also run the dairies these days) into my favorite cup, which is made of a material similar to that of the milk container, but, unbelievably enough, more durable and also a lovely shade of violet.

But as I sip my perfect beverage, which is collected, prepared, and stored via a series of mundane miracles, I can't help but wonder about the price. I know it must have one -- nothing comes free, and especially nothing that's any good. Is there a day of reckoning on the horizon? A fiery day full of retribution and affliction and famine and measles that will serve as the just recompense for all the wonderment that surrounds me each day? And what of the other miracles I have not even mentioned in this post? What of the magic of cell phones and freeways and airplanes and the Internet? What cost will there be for these marvels? I shudder to think of it.

Then again, perhaps the cost isn't all that bad after all. It could be something as simple and pain-free as missing out on the "genuine," if you will. Insulated by my climate-controlled house and car and job, freed of the barriers of time and space by my cell phone and the Internet, entertained by my DVD player and the myriad of shows on cable television, I no longer have time for much.

For instance, I have no time for standing in line. I have no time for walking to work instead of driving. I have no time for running outside instead of on the speed- and slope-controlled treadmill at my gym (while I alternate between watching CNN, ESPN, and two other channels full of talking heads) on the TVs overhead. I have no time for just standing still outdoors and listening to the wind -- if I could hear it over the sound of passing cars and distant sirens. I have no time for the chatter of squirrels, chirps of birds, or long, slow conversations on a porch swing.

So maybe there is no fiery day of judgment. Maybe the cost isn't so bad after all. But is it WORTH it?

Meme Me Up, Scottie!

2009-03-07T23:39:00.003-06:00

Again with the lack of substance -- I have other irons in my metaphorical fire at the moment. I am blogging, just not here. I might link to my efforts if the appropriate parties will give me permission. And by "appropriate parties," I mostly mean Mrs. Luaphacim, who is the primary focus of this other blog but doesn't know it yet because she is taking a Lenten fast from the Intarweb. More on that to come, perhaps.

But now for the meme: Google "*my name* needs" and look at the first 10 results. (But instead of *my name*, put your name.) They apparently tell you something deep and important about yourself.

1.) Luaphacim needs a ministry philosophy.
2.) Luaphacim needs to take better pictures on flickr
3.) Luaphacim needs Your Address!!
4.) Luaphacim needs to read up on the scriptures of comedian ron white
5.) Luaphacim needs music to dance
6.) LUAPHACIM THE MUSTANG NEEDS A HOME
7.) Luaphacim needs a name for his future network of QSAs on christian campuses
8.) Luaphacim needs home, a male domestic shorthair
9.) Luaphacim needs to expand my business, and am looking for small businesses that cannot afford the going rate for most designers
10.) Luaphacim needs an accepted phrase that broadly covers all these near-alternatives to avoid the danger of confusion and delay in our meetings while we debate the merits of each.

Apparently I am either a homeless animal or a very eclectic ministry-minded person... so, really, not too far from the truth, I suppose. What about you, dear reader?

What I was (probably) doing in 1984

2009-02-21T06:49:00.005-06:00

What were you doing in 1984?

A good friend of mine recently asked me this question as part of our church's 25th anniversary. It was founded in February of 1984, and most of the people who he asked that question of had to dig a little bit, but had good answers for him.

I, on the other hand, was two years old, and have little to no memory of 1984. So I cheated. Starting with the assumption that I was a typical two-year-old (which is a fairly safe one, I like to think), I came up with the following description of my activities:

In February of 1984, I was a little more than two years old. I can't really remember very much of what I was doing at that point, so I have enlisted the aid of a child development chart to determine what I would be likely to have done at the age of two. I imagine that most of my energies were probably invested in:

Running around (my mother says I could run long before I ever learned to walk; conservation of momentum came much more naturally to me than balance did)
Beginning to throw, kick, and catch balls (like a girl even then, no doubt)
Standing momentarily on one foot (having been around a lot of two-year-olds, I can say it is a triumph to get them to momentarily stand still on any number of feet, so this is quite the prodigious feat. No pun intended. Really.)
Climbing on playground structures (Some of my earliest memories are of going to the park and getting my fingers crushed on one of those slides that have the rollers on them)
Possibly jumping awkwardly (as if I have ever jumped any other way)
Developing right-handedness (how does one do that, exactly? Are there classes or something? I can't remember.)
Turning doorknobs and opening lids (I bet a lot of parents wish this ability was developed a little bit later. :-) )
Turning pages in a book, one at a time (which I have found is the best way to do it, unless the book is exceptionally dull and/or required for a class, in which case it is acceptable to turn multiple pages at a time)
Growing teeth -- all teeth appear by three years old (and then the right upper central incisor is knocked out when your friend Zachary knocks you down and you slam your mouth against a concrete front porch and your mom freaks out and you are without that tooth until the age of eight or nine)
Having a reduced appetite; weight gain tapers down to about 5 lbs. during this year (I was very skinny as a young child, my mother tells me. That sure didn't last long.)
Beginning to have bladder and bowel control; sleeping as much as 10 or 12 hours per night (a couple of the few bright spots during the Terrible Twos)

And I imagine that's about it. A two-year-old's life is simple and easily confined within a bulleted list. What the list doesn't -- and can't -- contain is the amount of affection that a parent has for her two-year-old, nor the joy she receives every day as he continues to learn new things and become more and more unique. She doesn't mind that he runs around screaming like a banshee all the time (well, doesn't mind that much) because, if she's wise, she knows it will be over all too soon.

The list also can't contain the wonder of a two-year-old who, as soon as he learns how to syntactically form questions, is asking them. The world is a wondrous place full of mysteries and things to be discovered. It's a magical time, both for children and parents, even if they don't know it.

So what were you doing in 1984, if applicable, dear reader?

Adventures in Weight Loss, Or How to Get a Head Full of Crazy in One Simple Step

2009-02-13T07:49:00.004-06:00

It's been a while since I've posted, and I apologize for that. Basically, I have been dumping most of my disposable free time into church, friends, and exercise (though not necessarily in that order).

I now weigh about 195, which is 40 pounds lighter than I did on Halloween. So that's nice, except it is causing some clothing-fit problems. This morning, as I was jogging on the treadmill, I almost lost my shorts, which fit me fine a couple of months ago. Ah, well.

I will have more to post in the next few weeks, hopefully, on dieting, exercising, gyms, and losing weight. Maybe even some work-related things, such as a new Turing Test for artificial intelligence that a caller to our Service Center ingeniously developed. It's all been marinading in my head, so I am planning to dish it out once it is thoroughly cooked and the juices run clear.

But I digress. The reason I am writing this is because of something horrifying that happened to me the other day...

As near as I can tell, one of the main downsides of the gym is that they play classic rock there. Don't get me wrong; it's fine for working out, and more than once, songs like "We Are the Champions" have helped me to finish my set on the bench press.

The problem is when I get the songs stuck in my head. The other day, for example, I found myself drumming incessantly on my desk at work and humming "Sweeeeeeeeet Emoooooooooooootioooooon" to myself all day long. Do you have any idea how annoying that is? And I think my co-workers noticed, even though I kept catching myself and reducing my volume, because a couple of them asked if the fan on my computer was OK.

But the worst part is when I get a song stuck in my head and then I am reading a recipe that seems yummy, but then I get to this part:

In a blender, combine the pistachios with the basil, mint, lime juice, vinegar, mustard, cayenne and olive oil. Blend at low speed until pureed. Add the ice cubes and blend at high speed until the sauce is very smooth. Scrape the basil emulsion into a small bowl and season with salt and black pepper.

and all of a sudden the song in my head changes to "Sweeeeeeeeeet Emuuuuuuuuulllllllsioooooon," and the world suddenly tilts all wrong on its axis, sending me plummeting into an abyss of craziness from whence there is no escape.

Ah, well -- I guess it could be worse.

An Invention I Can Wholeheartedly Recommend

2009-01-20T16:42:00.002-06:00

Courtesy of that excellent Christian publication, The End Times:

COLORADO SPRINGS, Colorado, — Christianware, Inc., a supplier for Christian bookstores worldwide, today announced a new product that will enable born again women to convert the secular romance novels they once used to gratify the desires of their sinful nature into romance novels that will encourage more heavenly desires.

“I am excited to introduce the Christian Romance Novel Converter," said Jedidiah Thomas, president of Christianware, "You simply place a worldly romance novel into the converter, wait 10 minutes for the book conversion machinery to perform its function, and then open up the converter to find a Christian romance novel much better suited to women of a Christian mindset."

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that is correct! Make haste to read this article before you are consumed with sinful fleshly passions!!

In Which I Learn I Am Not the Only Recovering "Full House" Addict in My Department

2009-01-17T17:48:00.004-06:00

When things get slow in the policy administration area, IM conversations like this sometimes occur.

Date: Friday, January 16, 2009

Co-worker 1 [11:02 AM]:
Just got a call from an agents office, his name is John Stamos, its good to see he's doing well

Luaphacim [11:02 AM]:
hehe

Luaphacim [11:02 AM]:
Everywhere you look, everywhere you look
[note: this was also sung in over the cube wall – at a business-appropriate volume, of course]

Co-worker 1 [11:02 AM]:
thats great

Co-worker 1 [11:03 AM]:
I think the reps assistant was DJ

Nine Minutes Later...
[Co-worker 2 is starting the conversation with this message:]
Man!!! Now I have the Full House theme stuck in my head!! Thanks, Co-worker 1!!

Luaphacim [11:12 AM]:
Co-worker 1 thinks DJ might have been the rep's assistant

Co-worker 1 [11:12 AM]:
Either her or Kimmy Gibbler

Luaphacim [11:12 AM]:
LOL

Co-worker 2 [11:13 AM]:
Please don't tell me his office is out of San Francisco . . . .

Co-worker 1 [11:13 AM]:
Its actually in the same building as Wake up San Franscisco

Co-worker 2 [11:14 AM]:
You are a wealth of trivia on Full House. I'm impressed!

Luaphacim [11:14 AM]:
it's even the right day for him to be calling...

Luaphacim [11:14 AM]:
I will be watching TGIF eagerly tonight to see if you make it on

Co-worker 1 [11:15 AM]:
Have mercy!

This is probably the correct place to reiterate that I have the best job EVAR. Happy weekend!

If only it worked like that...

2009-01-12T06:37:00.003-06:00

luaphacim [9:29 AM]:
not sure when I will be off...

luaphacim [9:29 AM]:
and then we haz to go to burlington coat factriz

luaphacim [9:29 AM]:
(iz moar tahn GRATE COAST)

marshwiggle [9:29 AM]:
hehe, I was about to say teh same

luaphacim [9:29 AM]:
to trade my BIG coat for a less big coat

luaphacim [9:30 AM]:
for Christmas, my MIL bought me the kind of coat I would never buy myself

luaphacim [9:30 AM]:
(i.e., not from Goodwill)

luaphacim [9:30 AM]:
but she didn't know how big a size to get, and the coat was too large

luaphacim [9:30 AM]:
so I am like a little kid

luaphacim [9:30 AM]:
in the coat

luaphacim [9:30 AM]:
and also on a maturity level

luaphacim [9:31 AM]:
but I don't think the immaturity can be fixed by Burlington Coat Factory, regrettably

How Much Deficit is Too Much?

2009-01-06T06:57:00.002-06:00

There was an interesting op-ed by Andrew Parasiliti in the Washington Times yesterday. In it, he addresses the ideas of President-Elect Obama about the need for yet another off-budget economic stimulus package. Parasiliti observes:

in thinking prescriptively about the economy, is there not also a lesson from the current crisis that bills eventually come due, and that when you spend more than you take in, there is a day of reckoning?

That was the experience of those Americans who bought houses they could not afford, and who are now facing foreclosure or painful economic decisions. Shouldn't it also be the lesson of the U.S. government that we need to stop living beyond our means? It is unrealistic either to imagine "growing" out of a deficit of this projected magnitude or that there will be a return on the TARP expenditures anytime soon. The day of reckoning for these massive deficits will eventually come in the form of tax increases or printing more money, and the resulting weakened dollar and inflation that goes along with the latter option. In sum, the recovery will be running on even more borrowed money from foreign creditors and on borrowed time. Our savings and retirement accounts will know no long-term security as long as we carry such massive deficits and we are taking no steps to address them.

Hear, hear. I was uncomfortable with TARP, uncomfortable with talk of bailing out the auto industry, and I will continue to be uncomfortable with Obama's proposed American Recovery and Reinvestment Plan. Why? because we are literally spending trillions of dollars that we do not actually have.

Yes, we have more borrowing power than most other countries on earth, but credit always comes with a price, and if we don't learn that now, our country could face severe consequences for it before too long.

Adventures With My Flex Card

2009-01-03T18:56:00.002-06:00

I really like my company-sponsored Medical Flex Spending Account. Maybe it's just the Scotsman in me, but there is something awfully appealing about using tax-free money to buy medical goods and services that I would use anyway. To make the deal even sweeter, my company even issues a debit card to expedite the claim process, so I theoretically don't even have to submit receipts every single time!

The problem, of course, is that they also do "random" checks to verify that I am not misusing the flex spending debit card. And as far as I can tell, these "random" checks seem to require me to submit receipts for 90% of the purchases I have ever made with said debit card. So, basically, it is only deferring and complicating the claim process, rather than expediting it.

The best part is that most of the "we need your payment" notices are sent by offshore associates who work during their daytime, which is, of course, our night-time. This can be amusing, like for instance when I receive a notice via e-mail at 1:07 a.m. on Christmas morning. Also amusing is the fact that this notice said it was the second request even though I had never received the first one.

Being the good citizen that I am, I promptly complied and sent them a receipt. Of course, being the ornery person I am, I also enclosed the following letter:

January 2, 2009

SECOND RESPONSE
(Haha, just kidding – it’s only my first
response! I bet I got you, didn’t I?)

From: luaphacim
To: Whom It May Concern
Re: Your Very Thoughtful Christmas Gift

My very dear Whom (May I call you Whom, or would you prefer Mr./Ms. May-Concern?):

It is with a heavy heart that I take keyboard in hand on this second day of the new year. Why, you ask, should my heart be so heavy? Because of the all cholesterol in there, that’s why. But also because I am clearly not working hard enough. I had once thought of myself as a Certified First-Rate Workaholic©, but your office is clearly full of much more dedicated work-persons than I.

Perhaps I should begin at the beginning. I came to work on the morning December 26, 2008 chock-full of good tidings, great joy, and also my mother’s home-made fudge. In short, if anyone had asked how I was, I probably would have responded, “Full of Holiday Cheer, my friend! Merry Christmas!” However, no one asked, as very few of my co-workers inquire after my health – or, indeed, communicate with me at all, unless their job duties mandate that they do so. But fine, whatever, let them be that way. See if I care.

And then, in the midst of my festal glee, I saw it in my inbox: your e-mail, a copy of which I have enclosed, signed, stamped, and fingerprinted for your reference. I would have sealed it too, but I was out of wax.

The moment I saw that e-mail, I had a life-changing revelation. Your simple electronic message, comprised of mere ones and zeroes, sparkling so guilelessly in ASCII format on my workstation computer monitor, taught me that the true Spirit of Christmas resides neither in presents, nor hot chocolate, nor yet homemade confectionary delights from one’s mother.

No, the True Spirit of Christmas cannot be accurately conveyed in any manner other than e-mails sent at 1:07 AM on Christmas morning requesting copies of receipts for services that are eligible for Flex Spending Accounts and containing polite threats regarding the “interruption in the use of my card” if I do not comply. Apparently, the True Spirit of Christmas also requires for the e-mail to be marked “Second Notice,” thus perplexing its recipient, who cannot remember ever receiving a first one. Perhaps it was clogged in the Internetic Tubes along with a clump of other cyber-paraphernalia such as Sesame Street–Harry Potter crossover fan fiction, cute pictures of Aunt Essie’s kittens, and e-mails from Senator Ted Stevens (R – AK) to Dell Technical Support, inquiring as to the location of his electronic typing computer machine’s “Any” key.

But I digress. My point is simply to thank you, my dearest Whom, from the bottom of my heart for sharing your inexpressibly great wisdom and grasp of the True Meaning of Christmas with me, your unworthy servant! Without you, I would be helpless. Without you, there would be no one to suspect me of committing tax fraud by using my Flex Convenience Card on items such as Cocoa Puffs and racehorses and clown shoes and Lord knows what else. Without you, I would be utterly incomplete.

And so, as my return gift to you, Whom, I have enclosed a facsimile image of the receipt you requested for my transaction of $83.20 on November 19, 2008. You will notice from the detailed list of “Services and Procedures” that my lovely wife spent these funds on eyeglasses, and not on any illicit, non-tax-exemptable items such as cases of Tang© Astronaut Drink, fuzzy dice, or twin ill-tempered Shetland Ponies named José and Enrique.

For good measure, I have also enclosed a receipt for another transaction wherein I spent $126.00 on eyeglasses (my eyes are apparently 52% weaker than my wife’s eyes, if these prices are any indicator!). I noticed that I had $0.80 left in my Flex Account, and I would be most obliged if you would send it to me in the form of a cheque so that I may squander it on a pair of fancy socks or something equally frivolous. If you cannot do this, then I would appreciate a written notice to that effect, because I know that generating such a written notice will probably cost at least $0.80, so I will have gotten my money’s worth either way.

Wishing you and yours a splendidly terrifical new year, I remain your most humble and obedient servant,

luaphacim
Ne’er-Do-Well and Silly-Pants Extraordinaire

(I am not even joking -- I really did send this. I hope it will be displayed in some poor cube-dweller's Hall of Crazy some day.)

Auld Lang Syne

2009-01-02T07:03:00.005-06:00

Happy New Year, dear reader! It is now 2009. Exciting, huh? There is very little that gets me so worked up as the rolling over of more or less arbitrary measurements of time. WHAT AN EARTH SHAKING DAY YESTERDAY WAS

Ha ha, just kidding; it was only another day.

Still, New Year's day is always a little bittersweet for me. It is the holiday that makes me the most conscious of all my old relationships that have been terminated (or perhaps just placed on hold) because of distance, difference, or decay. It's a funny thing how people can be enormously important to us for long periods of time, and then, for various reasons, virtually vanish from our lives. People who once were some of my closest friends are now just items on my Christmas card list, or, even worse, mere Facebook friends.

I love Robert Burns's "Auld Lang Syne" because it recognizes both the significance of past friendship and the difficulty of keeping one's friendships in good working order when life gets in the way:

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days o' lang syne?

CHORUS:
For auld lang syne, my jo,
For auld lang syne,
We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

And surely ye’ll be your pint-stowp!
And surely I’ll be mine!
And we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

CHORUS

We twa hae run about the braes,
And pu’d the gowans fine ;
But we’ve wander’d mony a weary foot,
Sin auld lang syne.

CHORUS

We twa hae paidl’d i' the burn,
Frae morning sun till dine ;
But seas between us braid hae roar’d
Sin auld lang syne.

CHORUS

And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere!
And gie's a hand o’ thine!
And we’ll tak a right gude-willy waught,
For auld lang syne.

CHORUS

I think music is fairly powerful, and the more times we hear something, the more ingrained it becomes in our consciousness. That is especially true with songs like this one, which gets a lot of air time. It's the theme song of Dick Clark's Rocking New Year's Eve, it is played at the end of no less than three Frank Capra films, and it is sung to celebrate the New Year in virtually every English-speaking country. There is even a Japanese version, which is often played at the end of the day in supermarkets to signal that they are about to close. (Yes, I do think that is comical. No, I am not surprised that it happens in Japan.)

For me -- and I suspect for you, too, dear reader -- this particular song has a great deal of power. It brings back memories of good times and good friends in whose lives I have invested a great deal of time and affection. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can even see the old friends I've left behind...

So here, in my chilly basement study in Kansas, I find myself surrounded on this second morning of the New Year by divers and sundry ghosts.

Over in the corner, blissfully playing "Zelda" on his Gameboy, is my old 4-H Cooking Class friend who taught me that video games are never out of season.

All my favorite college professors are perusing my fiction bookshelf and nodding in admiration at my choice of reading material. They are arguing about how the metaphor of the American Frontier has shaped our nation's literature and culture.

Some of my newspaper friends are designing a new layout on one corner of my desk, and my junior high students from the mission school are playing cards with my Mexican construction buddies on another corner.

A group of camp friends sits in a circle, playing the guitar, singing old favorites, and, a little disturbingly, roasting marshmallows over a fire that they have started in my wastepaper basket.

My cousins and a few of the staff from the mission are using my filing cabinet as a makeshift table to plan out a hiking tour through the Rockies, while my grad school classmates are admiring the poster of an unnecessarily ominous Jesus that hangs on my wall.

It's starting to get loud in here, so I go into the other room, where I can just sit and relax with some of the guys from my high school basketball team and the girls they used to have crushes on. It's a little awkward (as most of them are now married to other people and have small children), but anything's better than hearing a single word more from my old professors about Frederick Jackson Turner's Frontier Thesis.

Whatever you're doing today, and wherever your old friends are, I hope your new year will be a joyous one. And if you ever need someone to talk to or tak a right gude-willy waught with, I'll just be right here in the basement, hanging with my ghost-homies.

Playing Games

2008-12-29T05:17:00.001-06:00

Today, I was faced with a dilemma. As you are probably aware, I try to live my life by the standard of living set forth in the Bible, and specifically, the New Testament. Thus, if put to the question, I would affirm that I believe the following command to be from God Himself:

"Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things." (Col. 3:1-2)

On the face of it, this statement may appear to express a fairly innocuous and straightforward religious statement: spiritual things are more significant than physical ones. Nonetheless, it contains a principle that goes beyond this point, both in its scope and in its range of applicability -- namely, godliness is to be pursued before all earthly things. Thus, any activity is meaningless unless it somehow benefits one spiritually.

As someone who loves to play games, I find myself resisting this particular command. Yes, certainly discipline with godliness as the end result is a valuable thing to pursue, but what about the joy of planning one's strategy? The pleasure in playing one's cards in the best possible configuration? The thrill that comes with a hard-earned victory? Surely there must be some value in these things.

What, then? Should Christians eliminate from their lives every recreation and pastime except spiritual disciplines like fasting, silence, and prayer? Should I stop playing Spades and instead memorize Psalms so that I can recite a Psalm every four hours throughout the day? (I am not being overdramatic; some people actually do this.)

I think what I have established above is a false dichotomy of the physical in conflict with the spiritual. For those of us who must live real, everyday lives on earth, there can be no true separation of the two. Somehow, we must learn to live in a way that meets our physical obligations and needs as well as our spiritual ones. The balance is a fine one, but I believe it can be attained.

Instead of giving games up completely (which, in some ways, would be the easy way out), I am under the conviction that God wants me to use gaming to strengthen His hold on my life and to advance His kingdom. So what does that look like in practical terms?

Before answering that, I should probably address the question of what it means to play games. In a nutshell, I think it means to suspend one's disbelief and accept the rules of the game as absolute. There can be no transgression of them, regardless of how arbitrary they are (or seem to be). Moreover, a gamer must maintain a balance between realizing that the game is "just a game" and treating the gameplay as a vitally important activity (even though its importance springs solely from the fact that all the other players accept this seemingly arbitrary activity as important, too).

A game, then, provides the Christian with several valuable opportunities for spiritual discipline. Firstly, as with all human activities, it is a place to cultivate the fruits of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self control. Just as there is no law against these qualities, no game contains rules preventing the exercise of these attributes in word or deed. In some ways, a game is a better place than others to practice these things, because the risk is lower and the expectation of receiving these things is also lower (depending on who one's gaming partners are, of course). Regardless of the risk, though, gamers can clearly see when their counterparts are exercising grace, so games are an ideal place to practice these disciplines.

Secondly, games are a good place to learn how to place oneself in a position of humility. James tells us that God resists the proud and gives grace to the humble. When we play games, we learn important lessons, such as the fact that there are always more losers than winners and that winning is often a very artificial construction, and these facts can aid us in seeing that the vast majority of temporal successes are ultimately meaningless. Consequently, our success in these temporal matters is equally unimportant. Therefore, rather than exalting ourselves because we have gained ephemeral triumphs, we learn to diminish our own importance in light of our relative insignificance in the cosmos.

Thirdly, games help us to understand our own agency. We have choices about how we act and what we choose to do, but we are also at the mercy of other people's decisions, as well as circumstances outside our control. Games help us to gain a healthier view of reality, and for Christians, this should translate into a healthy respect for God's sovereignty and our own inability to make everything right by ourselves.

Games, then, should be more than just a waste of time for those who follow Christ. They provide a forum to grow, to discipline oneself, and, ultimately, to live out one's convictions. For those of us who have committed ourselves to setting our hearts on things above, they are a wonderful proving ground and a place to improve our spiritual conditions while simultaneously enjoying an aspect of our physical existences here on earth.

What do you think? I'd love to hear. :-)

Conversation with Marshwiggle

2008-12-28T17:07:00.004-06:00

Sometimes, we have funny IM conversations at work.

Marshwiggle [3:47 PM]:
Did you hear about Blagojevich?

Marshwiggle [3:47 PM]:
it appears they finally got him for asking for money/jobs/something for appointing whoever to teh now vacant Obama seat.

Luaphacim [3:55 PM]:
yeah

Luaphacim [3:55 PM]:
I heard about that...

Luaphacim [3:56 PM]:
I think he should repent and appoint a scoutmaster to the seat

Luaphacim [3:56 PM]:
and then the scoutmaster can reform American politics with his boyish charm and populist ideals

Luaphacim [3:56 PM]:
while nearly falling prey to the wiles of a worldly-wise female journalist

Luaphacim [3:57 PM]:
but triumphing in the end and going on to become George Bailey, the richest man in town

Marshwiggle [4:00 PM]:
hmm.. naw, there's some weird religious aspect to that dude.. sees angels and bunnies.

Luaphacim [4:00 PM]:
hehe

Luaphacim [4:00 PM]:
yeah

Luaphacim [4:00 PM]:
that could be a PR nightmare

Happy New Year to you, dear readers... IN JAIL!

Meme Meme Meme

2008-11-22T07:29:00.004-06:00

No time for substance!

The meme is via the Eavesdrop Writer Blog, which normally doesn't contain memes. Nonetheless, it must have caught the Vivienne's fancy as it has caught mine. (Incidentally, it's a pretty interesting blog and you should go there sometime.)

Here's the deal:
(1) Grab the nearest book
(2) open the book to page 56
(3) find the fifth sentence
(4) post the text of the next two to five sentences
(5) don’t dig for your favorite book. Pick the closest
(6) tag five people to do the same

Note that if you dig around for your favorite book, it ruins the whole point of the thing. It must be the book that is spacially closest to you.

The nearest book is The Art of the Essay, edited by Lydia Fakundiny. I was recently re-reading this with fond memories of my non-fiction creative writing class at KU.

The essay is Benjamin Franklin's "The Ephemera". [This is the conclusion of the ephemera's soliloquy. I have linked to the full text above in case you want to read the rest of this short but insightful essay.]

"To me, after all my eager pursuits, no solid pleasures now remain, but the reflection of a long life spent in meaning well, the sensible conversation of a few good lady ephemera and now and then a kind smile, and a tune from the ever-amiable Brillante."

How very Franklinian. Happy weekend, dear readers! I figure that five people will read this, if I am lucky, so I tag you all.

I Shall Wear the Bottoms of My Trousers Rolled

2008-11-16T21:01:00.004-06:00

As you may have noticed in my last few posts, I am beginning to come to grips with my mortality. This is especially true because the news of my high cholesterol came as I was fighting the tail end of a vicious cold. The next week, my foot swelled up for no apparent reason, causing me quite a bit of pain for a few days. In a word, I felt like I was falling apart.

Considering my mortality has been a difficult thing for me, for a number of reasons.

First and foremost is that, in many ways, I still feel like a child. I like riding in the folded-down backseat of a station wagon at night while someone else drives and I go to sleep. I like ice cream. I like having as little responsibility as possible. I am surrounded by wondrous things, and I like not knowing how they all work (because as soon as the knowledge comes, the wonder dissipates).

Children, however, do not need to worry about cholesterol or cardiovascular disease. When children stub a toe or bruise a knee, they do not need a week to recover enough to go up and down the stairs without grunting. Most children seem not to get sickness that lasts for much longer than a weekend, and very few of them continue to hack and cough for the next month.

Secondly, I have always felt reasonably healthy. You know, like the kind of healthy that doesn't need angioplasty or a Rascal scooter. It is, therefore, disappointing to learn that my poor lifestyle choices have had negative consequences. Who knew that a lifetime of eating fats, carbs, and other delicious things could have such negative consequences? (Answer: me, but I didn't really know-know until the doctor told me I could die from doing this.)

Thirdly, I find that the idea of death bothers me. Not because I fear death, but because I would be leaving behind the woman I love and a large family of brothers, sisters, and parents who would presumably mourn my passing. It hurts to think that they might be in emotional pain and I would not be in any position to provide them with comfort -- or, indeed, with anything other than stiffness, decay and possibly diseases, at that point.

For all these reasons, I have been thinking a lot about my mortality and how I should act in light of it. And, of course, these lines from Dylan Thomas came to mind:

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

So here is what I have done today in an effort to rage against the dying of the light:

1.) Listened to rock instead of classical while cutting coupons this afternoon
2.) Felt my foot beginning to swell up again and determined that I would give it a reason to swell up, so went to the gym
3.) Lifted weights entirely too much while at the gym, despite my knowledge that my whole chest will be throbbing all day tomorrow as a result
4.) Stacked the pillows differently while making my bed
5.) Wore my slippers out of the house
6.) Pushed my Toyota Camry's 4-cylinder engine up past 3,000 RPMs while getting on the highway (normally, I don't like taking it up much past 2,500)
7.) Choreographed an especially daring "chair dance" to do tomorrow, in case my foot becomes too swollen up to go for a run
8.) Didn't wear a belt with my jeans tonight

How is that for daring to disturb the universe? (Or at least daring to eat a peach?)

Sometimes, the Song Stuck in Your Head Isn't a Real Song

2008-11-12T07:23:00.009-06:00

Q. What do you get when you cross this

with this?

A. The song that was going through my head all day long yesterday. No, I don't really know why. Yes, I am a little frightened.

The Wages of Peanut M&Ms is Death!

2008-11-06T17:41:00.010-06:00

I have been craving Peanut M&Ms all day long. And I am a little tired of it, believe you me.

It doesn't help that Peanut M&Ms are easily obtainable. Seriously, I don't even have to buy them. They are located:

* In the hand-painted "M&M" bowl that someone gave to Mrs. Luaphacim and me on the occasion of our marriage (yes, our names both start with "M." Get it?). Said bowl sits conveniently atop the microwave on the way to the refrigerator (in which we keep the food I can actually eat).

* On the desk of one of my co-workers, with whom I have been sitting for about two hours per day in order to train him on calculating taxable gains. Sometimes he eats them, and the lovely aroma wafts by my nose in an unbearably delicious-smelling fashion.

* On top of a filing cabinet I pass each time I go to the bathroom. (Which is frequently, as I have been drinking a lot of water to control my appetite.) They are so inviting, and yet so full of carbs and fats...

In short, it gets to be unbearable sometimes. The only thing that keeps me from buckling under this enormous temptation is envisioning my own bloated, cholesterol-saturated corpse lying in the middle of a large, empty room with scattered handfuls of peanut M&Ms colorfully festooning the floor around me.

Two tough-looking, hard-boiled detectives are examining the scene.

Detective 1 takes a long drag on his cigarette. "So, what do you think got him?"

Detective 2 is silhouetted by backlighting from around the corner as he sticks his hands in the pockets of his trench coat. "I think it's pretty obvious."

"Yeah." Detective 1 shakes his head. "Why do they always think they can beat the M&Ms?" He blows an impressive smoke ring toward my cadaver. "When will they ever learn?" The smoke ring settles dramatically upon my bulging stomach.

Detective 2 takes out his Glock 19 9 mm and inspects its 15-round magazine. "It didn't have to be like this, you know." He hears a sudden movement in the corner of the warehouse and fires off a shot into the shadows. "He could've eaten carrots instead, and we never would've had to come and clean up this mess."

"It's always the carrots that drive them to the M&Ms. I've seen it a dozen times," says Detective 1 as he drops his cigarette butt, grinds it with his heel, and dives to cover just in time to avoid a burst of fire from the Uzi-toting terrorist across the room. Rounds of 9x19 mm Parabellum hollow points shred the packing crate behind him.

Detective 2 lobs a grenade over at the intruder, and after the explosion, lights a cigarette of his own. "It's a shame, a 27-year-old kid like that. Well, I guess we're about wrapped up here."

As they leave the building, Detective 1 sets a Demolition Charge M183 next to a load-bearing support beam, and shortly thereafter, I am entombed in the rubble of the warehouse, never to be seen again.

So that is how I have been avoiding Peanut M&Ms.

My one ray of sunshine in this diet is that I actually can eat some meat (yes, I know I said I was becoming a vegetarian, but I was mistaken). It might keep me out of the abandoned warehouse for another few weeks, anyway.

Give Me Vegetables or Give Me Death (Literally)

2008-11-04T21:22:00.009-06:00

First, as a former teacher of freshman composition, I should note that the title of this post is not entirely original.

Second, I should note that I was going to blog about the election, and after about 20 seconds of effort, I realized that:
a.) too many people will be doing that tonight, and I should not lay a further burden upon the Inter-nets with my woefully unskilled political comments,
b.) no amount of ranting on my part would cause a substantial change in the outcome, except to drive my blood pressure higher, thus creating more health problems for President-elect Obama to deal with, and
c.) I don't actually care about the election, because, in retrospect, it was merely a matter of whether our once-great nation would be driven to its inevitable perdition in a red hearse or a blue one.

Nevertheless, I still felt like writing, so I decided to write on the thing I have been pondering for the past several days: my own mortality. And believe me, there is nothing like a physical examination to make one ponder one's own mortality.

Why, you may ask, was I taking a physical exam in the first place? Simple: it was free, and I am much, much too cheap to turn down any (potentially) valuable thing that is offered for free. Which I am sure is why my place of employment offers free physical exams -- to get cheapskates like me to come in so they can identify my defects and cure them using the wonders of Medical Science.

The first thing that made me consider my mortality was the doctor's ginger examination of certain reproductive organs that may or may not have been in my possession. She informed me that such examinations should be occurring at LEAST monthly in order to detect testicular cancer in its early stages. Naturally, I was worried. I had never performed such an examination before, and neither had anyone else -- what if the cancer had come, gone, and dried up all my future generations, unbeknownst to me?

And then there was my weight. The doctor informed me that this was my "biggest challenge." (She did not seem to be intending the pun.) As if I didn't know that? Hello, I administer life insurance policies. If I couldn't find my way around a standard mortality table, I think I would die of embarrassment (which, incidentally, is only a figure of speech; embarrassment does not substantially increase mortality rates as defined in the industry's standard tables. More discussion of mortality tables might follow in a later post).

But the real blow came this morning. I arrived at my cubicle, steaming mug of tea in my hand, and noticed a manila inter-office envelope sitting on my chair. Upon opening it, I saw a sheet with the following notations:

Blood Test -- Lipids
Triglycerides: 167 (Normal 0-149)
Total Cholesterol: 243 (Normal <200)
HDL (Good) Cholesterol: 40 (Normal 40-90)
LDL (Bad) Cholesterol: 170 (Normal 0-99)

As an over-achiever, I was not especially surprised to find that my scores on this test were generally well above average. Which is not to say that I was pleased with the results.

Along with these test results, my doctor had very thoughtfully included a stack of guilt-inducing brochures with titles like "Watching Your Cholesterol," "What's Your 'Desirable Weight'?", "Angioplasty 101," and "Heart Healthy Guide." I have always been a sucker for free brochures, so I read through Hope Health's very interesting "Watching Your Cholesterol" on my morning break.

I was delighted to learn within the very first paragraph that "You can't live without cholesterol." So far, so good, I thought.

"What was that?" my cube-neighbor asked.

"Nothing," I replied, resolving not to think out loud next time.

Alas, then came the bad news: "But you only need a little cholesterol." Dang.

"Your liver makes most of what your body needs." Double dang.

"Extra cholesterol has to go somewhere, so it gets dropped off in your arteries. ... The buildup of cholesterol in arteries is called plaque (plack). Over time, the plaque buildup can narrow and even block the arteries. This leads to heart disease and heart attack." OK, we are past "dang" now.

At this point, it should be noted that the above referenced plaque (plack) is not actually the same as the plaque (plack) that is removed from one's teeth during free semi-annual dental checkups.

It should also be noted that I am not sure why the writers of the brochure felt the need to add a pronunciation guide for plaque (plack), but I must say I am beginning to be rather fond of it.

Further, it should be noted that the word plaque (plack) also kind of looks like the word plague (plaig) if you sort of squint, but the pronunciation guides are completely different, so they are clearly distinct words.

"Why do you keep muttering 'plack'?" asked my nosy cube-neighbor. "And did you just switch to 'plaig'?"

"I think you're imagining things," I responded. "Get back to work."

And that, dear reader, is why I am on the cusp of becoming a vegetarian (hence the title of this post). Not so much because I am worried that I will die from high cholesterol (although the inexorable mortality tables would indicate that such an occurrence is likely), but because
1.) My wifey loves me and does not want a prematurely dead husband on her hands,
2.) I really should take care of this magnificent piece of biological machinery with which my Maker has endowed me, and
3.) Honestly, who really wants plaque (plack) to build up in his arteries?

Of course, I will be doing other things to lower my cholesterol as well. Exercising, for instance. Unfortunately, according to the height-weight chart my doctor enclosed in my packet, I am very close to morbidly obese. Thus, I was not sure whether I should go straight to something as strenuous as jogging for 30 minutes every day, or if I should work up to it gradually.

As I was browsing resources from the National Institutes of Health Weight-Control Information Network, I ran across the answer: Dancing. The perfect exercise for people who can't... stand up for long periods of time?! Really?! Yes, really:

You can dance in a health club, in a nightclub, or at home. To dance at home, just move your body to some lively music!

Dancing on your feet is a weight-bearing activity. Dancing while seated lets you move your arms and legs to music while taking the weight off your feet. This may be a good choice if you cannot stand on your feet for a long time.

So I guess I have found the solutions to my recently increased awareness of my mortality: Vegetarianism and Dancing While Seated. If nothing else, they should at least help to amuse me as I attempt to further delay my inevitable Shuffle Off of This Mortal Coil.

Year-Old Haiku

2008-10-25T08:41:00.000-05:00

More cobwebby stuff from my inbox: two haiku that I scribbled in my boredom during a long, stupid day of systems testing. I basically had to process a transaction on my system, and then telnet in to a unix server and run cycles to validate whether the transactions had pulled data from the correct tables. Yuck.

These were probably influenced pretty heavily by The Tale of Genji, which I was re-reading at the time.

Date: 10/2/2007.

Autumn rain, cloaklike,
Free of prejudice and spite,
Shrouds all -- none escapes.

Bleak white digits dance
Bottom-to-top on black screen.
-System error- (Death)

Old Puns Never Die...

2008-10-24T07:43:00.003-05:00

I am cleaning out my gmail box. Here is a punny IM monologue that I e-mailed myself from work on July 24, 2008, which makes it just about three months old today. Surprisingly, it does not seem to have improved with age. Happy Friday!

luaphacim [3:47 PM]:
hehe... so, you ever have one of those times when you are so punny that you just despise yourself?

luaphacim [3:47 PM]:
I had one of those times just now...

luaphacim [3:48 PM]:
the guy across from me was telling the girl who [phone] shadows him about a recent remodeling job his wife had done...

luaphacim [3:48 PM]:
she redid their kitchen...

luaphacim [3:48 PM]:
all new floors, cabinets, and countertops...

luaphacim [3:48 PM]:
he was under the impression that the countertops were genuine granite...

luaphacim [3:49 PM]:
they looked really nice, and he was pretty happy about it

luaphacim [3:49 PM]:
and then they were watching HGTV, and the lady on the show was talking about how they were using a budget composite rock for the countertops to kind of cut costs

luaphacim [3:49 PM]:
and my friend's wife remarked that they had done the same thing on their kitchen...

luaphacim [3:50 PM]:
he felt cheap and betrayed, because he had been under the impression that it was the genuine article

luaphacim [3:50 PM]:
at which point, I interjected, "Derek, it sounds like your problem was that you were taking it for granite."

Meme from Magen

2008-09-29T18:37:00.003-05:00

Here's a meme from my favorite blogger of all.

Instructions: Figure out your answers for each of the below questions. Put your answer into a Google image search. Grab the first interesting image for each answer, and post the images on your blog.

1.) The age you will be on your next birthday

2.) A place to which you'd like to travel

3.) Your favorite place

4.) Your favorite person

5.) Your favorite food

6.) Your favorite animal

7.) The town in which you were born

8.) The name of a past pet

9.) The first name of a past love

10.) Your favorite color

11.) Your first name

12.) Your middle name

13.) Your last name

Work-Related Humorz

2008-09-27T08:41:00.004-05:00

In order to appreciate the following IM conversation, you need to know several things about my place of employment:

1.) We deal with a LOT of old people
2.) Many of these old people, for reasons best known to themselves, found it necessary to purchase an ungodly number of whole life policies. You know, as opposed to purchasing, say, one policy with a higher face amount and probably lower premiums. I tend to blame unethical insurance agents, but maybe that's just me.
3.) We do not have an automated way to quote future policy dividends and other values. This means we have to write these letters manually. Using complex spreadsheets. Until our eyes start bleeding.
4.) Our standard values projection letter is five years out, but we don't have a maximum time frame if the customer requests it (which they, regrettably, do with alarming frequency).

I have, of course, altered certain elements of the below conversation for readability and to protect the not-so-innocent. Happy Saturday!

Luaphacim [8:54 AM]:
why is it always the people with 5 policies that want value projections through 2030?

Cube neighbor [8:54 AM]:
i dont know, but it really is always those people

Luaphacim [8:54 AM]:
srsly

Luaphacim [8:55 AM]:
it's like there is an inverse relationship between number of policies and reasonableness of requests

Cube neighbor [8:56 AM]:
hehe

Luaphacim [9:23 AM]:
I came up with a possible solution

Cube neighbor [9:23 AM]:
LETS HEAR IT

Luaphacim [9:23 AM]:
people who have more than one policy are addicted to life insurance...

Luaphacim [9:23 AM]:
they can't live without it

Luaphacim [9:24 AM]:
they have to have more and more to satiate their desires

Luaphacim [9:24 AM]:
they order endless policy projections to analyze their toys

Cube neighbor [9:24 AM]:
NOT A BAD THOUGHT

Cube neighbor [9:24 AM]:
IT COULD VERY WELL BE TRUE

Luaphacim [9:25 AM]:
they have what state-of-the-art 19th century psychiatrists might call a "mania"

Cube neighbor [9:25 AM]:
THEY ARE LIKE SCROOGE MCDUCK(WHO SWIMS IN HIS MONEY)....THEY GET THESE PROJECTIONS AND THEN MAKE PAPER HATS(OR OTHER CLOTHING ARTICLES) OUT OF THEM

Luaphacim [9:26 AM]:
hehehe *Note: This was audible*

Luaphacim [9:26 AM]:
this guy is going to have a whole wardrobe

Luaphacim [9:26 AM]:
You SO just made me LOL.

Cube neighbor [9:27 AM]:
I heard.

Yeah, that's my life.

funney = true

2008-08-25T18:26:00.002-05:00

Chuckle of the day:
I saw it on a T-shirt.

On Mondays

2008-07-29T07:01:00.003-05:00

Sometimes, you know it will be an inauspicious Monday before you even get out of the car and trudge up the hill to your office building.

Yesterday, I was running late and on low blood sugar. I had cooked up some spaghetti for our Monday and Tuesday lunches and doled them out into 4 plastic containers, trying my best to divide the spaghetti evenly among them (388 calories each). This activity kept me from eating my morning Cheerios, which really can leave me in a bad mood. To make matters worse, I could only find 3 lids, so I slapped some plastic wrap on the fourth container and figured I would take it to lunch that day in order to just get it out of the way.

I rushed to work, having left home about 10 minutes after I normally do. And, being who I am, I was stewing the whole way there over how late I was going to be. As I whipped through the rain-drenched streets, I nearly spilled my plastic-wrapped spaghetti container on the floor going around a corner, and quickly resolved to be more careful. I drove a little more slowly the rest of the way.

When I arrived in the parking lot at work, I juggled my newspaper, industry education textbook, umbrella, and lunch as I got out of the car. I finally settled with the newspaper and textbook under my left arm and the umbrella in my right hand, along with the spaghetti. This was my first significant mistake.

As I walked into the fierce wind, struggling to keep my umbrella from getting out of control, I made my second mistake. I thought I could certainly reconfigure my umbrella to limit the amount of surface area exposed to the wind, so I tilted it back. Not much, but enough to make my morning much, much worse.

A gust of wind caught my umbrella, jerking my arm back. I lost control of my lunch container, and my umbrella was swept inexorably to the ground. Fortunately, I had a tight enough grip on the handle of the umbrella to keep it from blowing away.

And, as I looked down at my predicament, I saw that my entire lunch had deposited itself neatly into my umbrella. Just then, a co-worker walked by. She looked at me curiously, and I can't blame her -- there I was, standing in the rain and wind, with my umbrella upside down and resting on the ground, and a neat little heap of spaghetti and meat sauce piled in it, while I held an empty plastic container.

"I swear there is a logical explanation for this," I told her. She just smiled and kept going, clearly impressed by my prodigious intellect.

It is very rare that I give a day up for lost at 7:45 a.m., but when I do, I always have excellent reasons for doing so.

The Danger of Excessive Competence

2008-07-27T06:59:00.004-05:00

I am not generally opposed to competence. In fact, I am all for it -- I like competent people since they can get things done well without an undue amount of trouble for all concerned parties. The problem comes, then, when a competent person oversteps her bounds and begins to become supercompetent.

It happens slowly, of course. At first, it is just a too-eager response to a manager or supervisor when they are assigning her to a task. She comes dangerously close to being enthusiastic about work, which is a trait that the system should have been beaten out of her between the 6th and 8th grades. By the time she was in high school, she should have developed a well-pointed disdain for any sort of assignment given her by anyone in authority. Something along the lines of "Ohmygosh, I can't believe you're giving me WORK to do" or "Oh, how sweet, you still think you are in charge of me."

And yet, somehow, she has slipped through the system with a modicum of her work ethic intact. Who knows how or why -- perhaps she was homeschooled, or maybe she just spent too much time with the wrong crowd. There is no point in flinging accusations and recriminations at this point; the barn door was open, she got out, and nothing we can say now can backdate the shutting of said door.

The important part is that she has begun to ruin her own life and the lives of her co-workers. Again, this occurs gradually. Her bosses, gratified by her willingness (and capability) to actually do good work without being coerced or threatened, do not immediately take advantage of her. They praise her, promote her, coddle her for a little while.

Initially, her co-workers are cautiously approving. They rightly figure that if she is willing to work harder, be more conscientious, and do her tasks more thoroughly, the team will perform better without them having to actually change anything. This may mean more prestige or better bonuses, and they don't have to do a thing to gain it.

But they, like our hapless hypercompetent heroine, don't see the long-term dangers of the situation. First and foremost, management will soon build up an immunity to her current level of supercompetence. This, in turn, will necessitate increasingly higher levels of competence if she wishes to attain the same performance level.

Worse still, managerial expectations for other team members will also increase. Managers will realize, "Hey! Our employees may potentially have the ability to do things correctly the first time, thereby increasing productivity, efficiency, and overall performance! Perhaps we should expect everyone to be competent!" Which, of course, is a death knell for the rest of the team.

Not even the excessively competent one is immune from the negative effects of her actions. She is constantly asked to do more and more things as she demonstrates that she is capable of getting tasks done. Eventually, her Outlook inbox fills up, never to be emptied again. She may block off an entire afternoon, resolved that she is going to be caught up TODAY... but she can't stop the e-mails from coming, and she sure can't stop people from marking them "urgent."

Her fate, then, is somewhere between drowning and suffocation, as she slowly runs out of time and enthusiasm. And about the time that she loses the will to live, she is promoted to middle management, where the circle of life can be completed. It is a tragic fate, but also somehow appropriate, as are so many of the most heartrending sights in this world.

On Brush Thievery

2008-07-14T07:05:00.002-05:00

My suspicions began shortly before Independence Day. At first, I was somewhat less than credulous about the prospect. After all, I thought to myself, who on earth would steal something so... worthless?

And yet, little by little, the pile of dried-out brush on the walkway next to my garage continued to shrink. Initially, I had attributed its diminution to the simple processes of nature. When I cut that brush at the beginning of June and piled it in its place behind the trash can, it had been resplendent with verdant foliage. As the weeks progressed, however, the leaves dried up and began to blow away, leaving the pile (I thought) a little less impressive than it initially had been.

My original plan of disposal was dependent on thrift, as so many of my plans are. I would borrow a friend's truck and take the mound of branches to a place of disposal, if I could
a.) find a free Saturday morning
b.) arrange for my friend not to need his truck that same morning
c.) overcome the revulsion in the bottom of my soul that arises every time I am required to pay any money at all for any goods or services that seem less than absolutely necessary (such as a fee to allow a forestry center to recycle my yard waste into mulch that they then sell by the truckload to interested parties)

So there I was, slightly less than a month later, and my three conditions still had not been met. Nonetheless, as I mowed the lawn that day, I noticed that the pile seemed to be getting smaller. And the more I thought about it, the less able I was to attribute this to the normal shrinkage of drying leaves. It was seriously smaller; I was able to get my lawn mower through to the back yard without my normal tortuous strivings.

Something was very wrong here.

Yet, as the weeks progressed and the pile continued to vanish, I was unable to find the culprit. Until yesterday, that is.

My wife and I were coming home from a friend's house, and as we pulled into the driveway, we saw a jeans-clad figure hunched over in the yard by our brush pile. I knew it was time to act, so I flung open the car door and raced over to the scene of the crime.

"Hi, Pat!" I said. "Nice day, isn't it?"

She looked up sheepishly. "Yes," she replied, a twinkle in her blue eyes. She brushed a loose strand of white hair from her face. "So nice, I thought to myself, 'Pat, you've just got to get out of the house and do something in the yard today.'"

"Well," I responded, feeling grateful and ashamed all at once, "I appreciate you stealing my brush pile."

"Aw, it was nothing," she said. "I have extra room in my yard-waste cans every week, so I thought I'd just help you get rid of this pile. Besides, what are neighbors for?"

What, indeed.

I love this town.

St. Paul's Blog 5: The Rest of Acts

2008-06-23T08:00:00.000-05:00

Jerusalem was really exciting. I started a riot in the temple (not even on purpose!). It didn't stay in the temple for very long, though, because they decided to drag me out into the street so they would have more room to beat me. A cohort of Romans came by and calmed the crowd down some, which was nice. I knew an opportunity when I saw it, so I asked him to let me say a few words to the crowd in Hebrew. After the crowd shouted me down and started throwing dirt and clothing into the air, the Roman commander decided he should probably take me someplace a little safer (like prison).

I met some different rulers, like Felix, Festus, and Agrippa (no, I didn't make fun of their names, but it was pretty hard). I got to preach to all of them, and it went pretty well, I suppose, because nobody fell asleep and plummeted to their deaths or anything.

So now I'm on my way to Rome to preach to the Emperor. Of course, my escorts and I have had a few little problems, such as a shipwreck. The captain can't say I didn't warn him... "Let's wait for winter," I said. "We're all going to die," I said. But nooooo, he just HAD to get to Phoenix before the winter set in.

The soldiers were all for killing us prisoners when the ship ran onto an island after being buffeted for a couple of weeks at sea, but the good ol' centurion kind of liked me and wanted to make sure I got to meet the Emperor, so he let us live. Then, a snake almost succeeded where the soldiers left off -- who knew that snakes liked the fire so much? -- but God saved me yet again!

I'm more convinced than ever that God will use me just how He wants to, no matter how many riots or high priests or soldiers or snakes try to stop Him. Regardless of what happens to me in Rome, He will be glorified, and if I die in the process, I just get to see Him face to face that much quicker! Talk about a win-win situation.

St. Paul's Blog 4: Acts 18:23-21:17

2008-06-22T20:00:00.000-05:00

I'm kind of tired lately. There has been a lot to do here in Asia. For instance, it seems like every time I turn around, someone is wanting me to use their handkerchief. I do my best, but there's only so much snot one man can expell before his nose gets sore. This is definitely not what I meant when I said "all things to all men."

Here's how exhausted I am: I hardly even put up a fight when my friends told me not to go down to the big riot at the Ephesus Theater... and you know how much I love a good riot every now and again. It's probably for the best that I didn't go, because the city clerk stopped the riot pretty quickly without even preaching a lot to make the people madder at him. What a boring ending.

I guess I'm not the only tired one around, though. A few weeks ago I was preaching in Troas, and some kid named Eutychus fell asleep during my sermon. I was kind of ticked off because I had only been talking for a few hours and I was barely halfway through my first sentence! He died (a fall from a three-story window will do that to you), but I wasn't done preaching yet, so I raised him from the dead, gave him something to eat, and made sure he was sitting on the front row for the rest of my sermon. THAT should teach him a thing or two.

We're in Caesaria now, on our way back to Jerusalem. I've been trying to get some rest, but it's hard since about every half hour, one of Philip's daughters starts prophesying. Most of their prophecies are pretty good, but every once in a while, one of them will talk about a tiger in the woods and how he will be the master of some tournament of catching eagles and other birdies with traps made of sand. Now that just doesn't make any sense at all.

Speaking of prophets, one stole my belt the other day. When I tried to get it back, he tied me up and basically said that there was a lot more where that came from if I kept going toward Jerusalem. You might think I was in quite a bind, but really I was knot. I knew that with Christ on my side, I would never have to be afrayed!

Jerusalem, here I come.

St. Paul's Blog 3: Acts 15:36-18:22

2008-06-22T08:00:00.000-05:00

Hi again! Boy, it's been a while. I kind of lost track of time, what with all that wacky circumcision hullabaloo! It wasn't exactly what you'd call a cut-and-dry case, but I think we managed to slice through the complexities of the situation and come up with a fairly incisive resolution.

After that was over, Barnabas and I wanted to go back to see all of our old friends to encourage them in their faith. The only problem was that Barnabas wanted to bring his whiny little quitter of a cousin with us. I basically told Barnabas that if John Mark came along, I might end up martyring him myself, so we agreed to disagree and went our separate ways. Consequently, I have a new buddy named Silas who came on this trip with me. He has a very nice singing voice, which may seem irrelevant, but it came in handy later.

After picking up Timothy (and circumcising him, just to be on the safe side), we headed to the part of Asia that is famous for its Macedonia Nut Cookies. Of course, being who we are, we immediately got into some trouble. We cast a demon out of a slave-girl, but instead of thanking us, her masters made the Romans mad at us. I guess they preferred to have their possession intact, so to speak.

After we had lost our shirts and quite a bit of blood, the kind jailer escorted us to his very nicest cell. To thank him, we sang some songs, and I think I can say without being immodest that we brought down the house. The jailer said it just about killed him to hear it. Then the jailer and his whole family got saved, and the Roman officials apologized to us! It all goes to show you that God continues to be faithful, even when you're getting stripped and beaten and no one in the whole town has even offered you a single one of their famous regional cookies.

St. Paul's Blog 2: Acts 13:1-15:35

2008-06-21T20:00:00.001-05:00

Guess what! We went on a missionary journey!!! It started out with some pretty stiff opposition and went downhill from there. You’d think that people would be happy to hear good news, but noooo. All they want to do is yell at us. The governor of Cyprus seemed willing to hear what we had to say, but his blind friend--well, at least he was blind by the time we’d left--was a little less willing to “see” things our way.

Barnabas’s whiny little cousin Mark couldn’t take it, so he was gone before we even left the first little island. It’s a good thing too, because I think I’d have helped him “see” things my way by the end of the trip too, if you know what I mean…

In the next town we were able to expound at great length on the gospel, and they even asked us back the next week. But we must have done something to offend the Pisidian Antioch Ladies’ Society because they ran us out on a rail. That was OK; the town was real dusty anyway, so we cleaned our feet off and headed for Iconium…

Iconium was a lot like Pisidian Antioch, except that the people there weren't very welcoming and also they tried to stone us.

We hoped we might get a warmer reception in Lystra, and we weren't disappointed. All we did was heal one guy and suddenly they were convinced that we were gods! (I was kind of offended that Barnabas got to be Zeus and I had to be Hermes.) After a lot of talking, we managed to keep them from offering sacrifices to us. But then our old friends from Pisidian Antioch and Iconium came to town, and pretty soon, the rocks were flying again.

Next, we visited the town of Derbe. I'm not sure why they call it that, because it doesn't even resemble a hat or a race. But the people there were friendlier, so that was nice. Even better, we reached a lot of people there for Jesus! This missionarying can be pretty exhausting sometimes, but it's worth it.

St. Paul's Blog 1: Acts 8-10

2008-06-21T07:59:00.001-05:00

For the past week, I have been writing a blog in the voice of St. Paul for a Bible camp's daily newspaper. The kids were studying Acts, so they thought it would be kind of fun to have a "different" take on the reading. And I am nothing if not "different."

I kind of banged it out between doing other things, so the quality varies, but I figured I should probably post it here because I'm so bad at posting other things. :-)

This week I had a real eye-opening experience. It was pretty unexpected; I guess you might say it kind of blind-sided me.I had just finished a very successful campaign against a fanatical cult of peace-loving zombie worshipers in Jerusalem, and I was on my way to Damascus to do the same thing there. I was all set; I had several faithful thugs, letters from the religious leaders in Jerusalem, and a nearly full bottle of my new Threats 'n' Murder Brand Mouthwash ("It makes heretics say, 'Ouch!'"^©).

Suddenly, a blinding flash exploded across my retinas, and that was the last thing I remember seeing.

So it turns out that I had been wrong. Really wrong. The people I had been persecuting in Jerusalem -- the ones who had insisted that the infamous Jesus of Nazareth had been the messiah and had risen from the dead after his crucifixion -- hadn't been lying. I spoke with their living Lord myself that day on the road.

After the voice stopped, I continued on with my companions to Damascus. We stayed at Judas's house on Straight Street, where I fasted and prayed for three days and three nights. During that time, the only thing I remember seeing was a vision where a man named Ananias came and laid hands on me to heal me. So it wasn't that surprising when a man named Ananias came to the house and did exactly that.

The first thing I asked after the scales fell from my eyes was whether I could be baptized. I was amazed by my experience, and I was convinced beyond doubt that Jesus was the messiah.

I guess this means I might have to start using my knack for troublemaking in a more constructive way in the future...

I am aware of all internet traditions

2008-06-21T07:40:00.004-05:00

Tee hee... I found out about this via EB and TLQ.

(Mostly) Annotated Books of Pretension

2008-05-01T22:45:00.003-05:00

Well, that whole thing clearly didn't work out, did it? The first of the year hit, and with it came mega-lots of overtime. I have been storing up all of my brilliance so as to share it with the Internets some day, but until that day arrives, I felt compelled to partake in a meme I picked up from Evil Bender. I would link to the original, but you can click through if you really want to, and I am too lazy. Speaking of having one's English degree(s) revoked, failure to properly cite might be due cause... :-)

Italics: I have read
Strikethrough: Started, never finished
Normal: Never even tried

* Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell
* ~~Anna Karenina~~ (seemed like a good idea at the time)
* Crime and Punishment (a labor of sheer stubbornness)
* ~~Catch-22~~ (I was reading a friend's copy over at his house, set it down, and then never saw him again. Not by design or anything; it just kind of... happened.)
* One Hundred Years of Solitude
* Wuthering Heights
* The Silmarillion (It's no There and Back Again: A Hobbit's Holiday for readability...)
* Life of Pi : a novel
* The Name of the Rose
* Don Quixote (In Spanish - beat that!!)
* ~~Moby Dick~~ (too... much... whale)
* Ulysses
* Madame Bovary (I always associate this title with hidden lady-parts)
* The Odyssey
* Pride and Prejudice
* Jane Eyre (I know I read both this and Wuthering Heights when I was younger, but now I can't for the life of me keep them straight. I think Wuthering is the one with the crazy wife, right?)
* The Tale of Two Cities
* ~~The Brothers Karamazov~~ (see note on ~~Anna Karenina~~)
* Guns, Germs, and Steel: the fates of human societies (never heard of it, but it sounds awesome...)
* War and Peace (see note on all Russian novels I have ever read)
* Vanity Fair (Anyone else just adore Thackeray?)
* The Time Traveler’s Wife (Is that anything like The Time Machine? Mmm... delicious, plump, lazy Eloi...)
* The Iliad
* Emma
* The Blind Assassin
* The Kite Runner
* Mrs. Dalloway
* Great Expectations (Best... Dickens... Evar)
* American Gods (did I mention I love Gaiman? srsly.)
* A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius (pretty funny when it's not being all self-indulgent... which is heartbreakingly often)
* ~~Atlas Shrugged~~ (still can't think of my attempt to read this monstrosity without getting visuals of that terrible, terrible scene written by the Ayn Rand fanboy... you know the one. Ew.)
* Reading Lolita in Tehran : a memoir in books
* Memoirs of a Geisha
* Middlesex
* Quicksilver
* ~~Wicked : the life and times of the wicked witch of the West~~ (Only if reading through the first chapter in Barnes and Noble counts as an attempt to read the book...)
* The Canterbury tales (Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote The droghte of March hath perced to to roote...)
* The Historian : a novel
* A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (How can anyone NOT read this?)
* ~~Love in the Time of Cholera~~ (see note on ~~Catch-22~~)
* Brave New world (Ford is in his flivver and all's right with the world!)
* The Fountainhead (ugh, TWO by her? I SO wish I could rinse my brain out.)
* Foucault’s Pendulum (want to read)
* Middlemarch (Did you know that George was really a woman?!)
* Frankenstein (the monster is so much more articulate in the book than he has been in any movie... why is that? Maybe because 10-page monologues don't translate well to the silver screen, I guess, but it's still a shame. Hulk smash.)
* The Count of Monte Cristo (want to read)
* Dracula (I kept hoping for the good part, and then it was over. Ripoff.)
* A Clockwork Orange (I read the British version with the very moral final chapter still intact. What up now?)
* Anansi Boys (want to ~~steal from EB's shelf~~ read)
* The Once and Future King (should have, didn't. ah, well)
* The Grapes of Wrath
* The Poisonwood Bible : a novel
* 1984
* Angels & Demons (sweet Moses, no. why? Seriously, why?)
* The Inferno
* The Satanic Verses (I would probably put out a death sentence on him too... because I WISH I WROTE THIS WELL!! little religious/geopolitical humor there for you)
* Sense and Sensibility
* The Picture of Dorian Gray (Spoiler: the picture is HIM!! but only sort of)
* Mansfield Park (sadly, no)
* One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
* To the Lighthouse (I am ashamed.)
* Tess of the D’Urbervilles
* Oliver Twist (typical, depressing, quirky Dickens. Gotta love him)
* Gulliver’s Travels
* ~~Les Misérables~~ (I don't seem to do well with Hugo... unless, of course, it's Hugo Gernsback)
* The Corrections
* The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay
* The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time
* Dune (I want to kiss and marry this book. seriously.)
* The Prince
* The Sound and the Fury (this reads like a tale told by an idiot)
* Angela’s Ashes : a memoir (want to)
* The God of Small Things
* A People’s History of the United States : 1492-present (yes, I know I am a freakin' pinko commie leftist hippie. And yes, I'm ok with that.)
* Cryptonomicon (I thought this only existed in scifi movies?)
* Neverwhere (want to)
* A Confederacy of Dunces
* A Short History of Nearly Everything
* Dubliners
* The Unbearable Lightness of Being
* Beloved
* ~~Slaughterhouse-five~~ (See note on ~~Catch-22~~)
* The Scarlet Letter
* Eats, Shoots & Leaves (Yes, it's pop linguistics. Yes, it's prescriptionistic to the extreme. But it's also sort of funny.)
* The Mists of Avalon
* Oryx and Crake : a novel
* Collapse : how societies choose to fail or succeed
* Cloud Atlas
* The Confusion
* Lolita
* Persuasion
* Northanger Abbey (nope - on the list, eventually)
* The Catcher in the Rye (insert angst here)
* On the Road (didn't understand or appreciate it much, unfortunately... I was too young)
* The Hunchback of Notre Dame (more Hugo... I really do mean to read this stuff)
* Freakonomics : a rogue economist explores the hidden side of everything (sounds fun but also too self-aware for my taste)
* Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance : an inquiry into values (want to)
* The Aeneid
* Watership Down (bunnies!)
* Gravity’s Rainbow
* The Hobbit (now THAT is high-quality fantasy that doesn't put me to sleep.)
* In Cold Blood : a true account of a multiple murder and its consequences
* White Teeth
* Treasure Island (of course - I was homeschooled, duh)
* David Copperfield (second-best Dickens evar)
* The Three Musketeers (Surprise, a Hugo I finished!!)

Thing Four

2007-12-24T23:59:00.001-06:00

Thing four is instant messaging. How did we ever live without such an indispensable tool before the tidal wave of IM programs swept over us in the 1990s? I remember with great fondness how I used to chat with my friends, including EB and Marshwiggle, on ICQ back when it first came out. Then, AIM and MSN Messenger, of course, and eventually the Google Chat client. There was something empowering and delightful about being able to communicate instantaneously in a written format. It also made roleplaying online much easier, but that is a whole different thing to be thankful for. :-)

I am currently on my third job that involves extensive use of instant message clients. My first job that required IM was at the student newspaper where I served as online editor for a single, lonely, enraging academic year when I was a junior. It came in very handy when I had system-related questions for the techies and the former editor... and also when I was just lonely and bored and wanted to chat with a pretty girl while the incredibly buggy scripts ran on my Mac G4.

I dated the woman who would become my wife over IM for almost a year while I was teaching at a mission school near Four Corners between my undergraduate and graduate programs. The mission's phone line was expensive and unreliable, but the Internet uplink was essentially free and hardly every went down. It was a very, very good way to stay close to the woman I loved.

At my most recent two jobs, chat clients have been simply indispensible. I literally could not have done my job without them. When I worked for a news-gathering service based out of Washington D.C., it was four months before I met any of my colleagues in person, although I worked with 5-10 different people every day to get our products put together. Everything we did was via IM. In my current job at the call center, I am able to provide excellent, value-added customer service in real time because of the intraoffice IM client there.

And last but not least, instant messaging is also an excellent medium for bugging people about things that they should be doing without being too confrontational. For instance, Marshwiggle popped me up via intraoffice IM the other day (yes, he works in the same company I do, more or less) and said, "Hello, sirs. I would like one of your two day weeks, please." This was his way of letting me know he had noticed my absence of "things I like" posts during the week after my power went off. If he would have e-mailed me about it, I might not have responded as well as I did to his subtle hints. :-)

There is much more that I could say about IM clients and the communicative genre of instant messages, but I should probably just close this particular topic with a simple reiteration of my original point: IM is a wonderful thing.

Thing Three

2007-12-11T19:41:00.000-06:00

I began to write this -- ironically enough -- over at my mother-in-law's house because we were out of power. But then, our power came back on and I had to go home and cleanse the freezer of its odiferous chicken juices, and then I was behind on sleep and WAY behind at work, and one thing led to another, and here it is nearly two weeks later, and I'm only now getting around to posting this. So, in summary: here is Thing Number Three.

Power.

As Evil Bender and the Lizard Queen, among thousands -- maybe millions -- of other people across the midwest and southwest could tell you today, power is an amazing thing. Yes, we gripe about the rates, and yes we gripe about the outages, but deep down, we are very pleased with this tool that enables our daily activities to be so pleasant.

I think I forget just how grateful I am for electric current in my house until I suddenly lose it. Then, I realize how nice it is to be able to store perishable food in my kitchen, to take a hot shower, to read by the light of an incandescent bulb at low, medium, or high strength... to say nothing of posting on the Internets.

Electricity, like many of the trappings of our modern existence, is something that requires more organization and planning than most of us realize. And it is much more fragile than we realize, too. A few blown transformers are all it takes to drastically disrupt a city's daily routine. So, I suppose that in some ways, I am equally thankful when my electricity goes out, because it reminds me of what a wonderfully designed house of cards our modern, technologically advanced society is.

Thing Number Two

2007-12-10T19:10:00.000-06:00

Hot tea.

It's an amazing thing, fresh steeped in the morning, and much less abrasive than the flavor of most coffee.

If you're not familiar with the story of tea and its meanings in both Eastern and Western culture, you might be interested in reading The Book of Tea, which discusses these things as an aside to a fascinating account of tea's significance in Shintoism. Here's an excerpt to whet your appetite:

Strangely enough humanity has so far met in the tea-cup. It is the only Asiatic ceremonial which commands universal esteem. The white man has scoffed at our religion and our morals, but has accepted the brown beverage without hesitation. The afternoon tea is now an important function in Western society. In the delicate clatter of trays and saucers, in the soft rustle of feminine hospitality, in the common catechism about cream and sugar, we know that the Worship of Tea is established beyond question. The philosophic resignation of the guest to the fate awaiting him in the dubious decoction proclaims that in this single instance the Oriental spirit reigns supreme.

Without question, I enjoy my morning tea. But as I drink it, I sometimes also imagine I taste in it the agonized labor of generations of Asians slaving to produce a product to be sold, enjoyed, and profited from by a despotic people on the far side of the world. So I guess tea sometimes leaves a bitter aftertaste in more ways than one.

A Week of Things I Like

2007-12-09T23:56:00.000-06:00

I've decided to post a different one of my favorite things every day this week. Too often, I focus on the negative and unpleasant things in life. This is my attempt to focus on some of the wonderful things I enjoy each day.

Thing 1: The scene in Casablanca where Victor Laszlo leads the whole bar in drowning out "Die Wacht am Rhein" with "La Marseillaise." One of the greatest moments in cinema, and one that never fails to give me goosebumps. I think the reason I like it so much is because it highlights the power of people united against evil.

It's funny -- Most of the time, displays of nationalism seem undesirable to me, since they tend to polarize people and create an "us/them" mentality. Sometimes, this mentality even arises within the nation itself, between ultra-loyalists and more moderate patriots. That's what I call "a house divided against itself."

So why is this time different? Why do I love, love LOVE this scene so much? I think it is because there is a small group of bullies who get overcome by the people they are attempting to bully. The Germans in this film are very aware of their political power, and I find it inspiring that the crowd at Rick's is willing to stand up against that power. They are immediately punished for it, of course, when the bar is summarily closed (because the commandant is shocked -- SHOCKED -- to learn that there is gambling going on there... right before an employee comes up and hands him his winnings for the evening).

But that willingness to fight against evil is something that no amount of closing bars can destroy.

Great flick. :-)

My two cents

2007-12-04T19:04:00.000-06:00

I heartily oppose arguing on the Internet, as you probably know if you are one of my readers (I know this because there are not a lot of them). The recent heated conflagration between the owners of two blogs I read, however, has made me want to add a little context to their discussion. I offer nothing like a Hegelian synthesis of ideas (indeed, I'm not sure this particular discussion can have anything like a resolution), but I would like to share a few thoughts with anyone who cares.

Evil Bender's response to I Samuel 15 is a rational one -- I would expect nothing less from him:

Even assuming that every adult had absolutely earned complete destruction, what harm had the children and the animals done? I’ve never been able to understand how such commandments are compatible a all-good, all-powerful divine being. After all, genocide is clearly wrong when humans instigate it: if morality means anything, it must mean that it is also wrong when God engages in it.

EB's response contains these underlying assumptions:

People and animals must not be destroyed unless they have earned destruction through wrongdoing
People and animals are inherently innocent and must be actively evil in order to merit destruction
At least some of the adults of the Amalekites probably had not done sufficient enough evil to merit destruction
All children are innocent and therefore do not merit destruction
All animals are innocent and therefore do not merit destruction
Therefore, evil is a learned activity and can be avoided by those who wish
The Hebrew God should abide by universal moral standards* if we are to consider Him a truly good God
Genocide** is a universal moral evil in every place and time, without exception
(*No definition is given here for these universal moral standards, so I will have to assume they at least roughly correspond with the ideals of 18th-21st century Western humanism: basically, not hindering the rights of others to freely have and pursue life, liberty, property, and happiness)
(**Since "genocide" is a 20th-century term and concept, I feel like I should be invoking Godwin's Law when I see it applied to a document that is at least 3,000 years old, but it is nonetheless convenient as shorthand for "destroying the all of the Amalekites and all of their possessions")

Schumm's response is one that basically defines morality as whatever God wants it to be. Consequently, his God is one who requires either absolute devotion or eternal punishment for those who refuse to submit to His will, no matter how whimsical it may happen to be:

It matters not if God is good if He is allpowerful- the definition of an all powerful God necessitates servitude or punishment. Good becomes a definition solely up to His whim or discretion. In order for there to be someone to hear and defend our accusations of injustice against God, we would have to appeal to an arbitrator independent of God, one who has the power to issue a ruling God has to abide by.

Schumm has these underlying assumptions:

There is no universal morality apart from the discretions and whims of almighty God
Omnipotence means that God must either enslave or punish
It is impossible to accuse God of injustice since there is no higher authority than Him
God's goodness is therefore completely arbitrary and established per force, with no room for any questioning by humanity
God can do anything He wants and it will be a moral action by default, no matter what it is

I have some serious concerns with both of these viewpoints, but before I get into those, I would like to provide a little bit of context for I Samuel 15.

Exodus 17:8-16
8 Then Amalek came and fought against Israel at Rephidim.
9 So Moses said to Joshua, "Choose men for us and go out, fight against Amalek Tomorrow I will station myself on the top of the hill with the staff of God in my hand."
10 Joshua did as Moses told him, and fought against Amalek; and Moses, Aaron, and Hur went up to the top of the hill.
11 So it came about when Moses held his hand up, that Israel prevailed, and when he let his hand down, Amalek prevailed.
12 But Moses' hands were heavy. Then they took a stone and put it under him, and he sat on it; and Aaron and Hur supported his hands, one on one side and one on the other. Thus his hands were steady until the sun set.
13 So Joshua overwhelmed Amalek and his people with the edge of the sword.
14 Then the LORD said to Moses, "Write this in a book as a memorial and recite it to Joshua, that I will utterly blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven."
15 Moses built an altar and named it The LORD is My Banner;
16 and he said, "The LORD has sworn; the LORD will have war against Amalek from generation to generation."

Numbers 24:20
20 And he* looked at Amalek and took up his discourse and said,
"Amalek was the first of the nations,
But his end shall be destruction."
(*"He" here is Balaam, prophesying in the power of YHWH)

Deuteronomy 25:17-19
17 "Remember what Amalek did to you along the way when you came out from Egypt,
18 how he met you along the way and attacked among you all the stragglers at your rear when you were faint and weary; and he did not fear God.
19 "Therefore it shall come about when the LORD your God has given you rest from all your surrounding enemies, in the land which the LORD your God gives you as an inheritance to possess, you shall blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven; you must not forget."
(This is Moses speaking at the time of the second giving of the Law, after Israel had repented from the sin they committed while he was up on Mount Sinai)

Esther 3:1
1 After these events King Ahasuerus promoted Haman, the son of Hammedatha the Agagite, and advanced him and established his authority over all the princes who were with him.
(If the name "Haman" sounds familliar, it is because he was the one who, according to the book of Esther, very nearly succeeded in wiping out the Israelites from the face of the earth. He appears to be descended from the royal family of the Amalekites, whom King Saul did not kill -- see I Samuel 15)

I do not pretend to understand the purposes of God, but here are a few of my thoughts regarding the "genocide" of I Samuel 15. Please remember that I am a professing Christian, and so my comments are, of course, the remarks of someone inside what he believes to be an internally consistent system.

1.) On the Rightness of Destroying the Amalekites

Jesus said, "Men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil" (Jn. 3:19). King David said, "I was brought forth in iniquity, and in sin my mother conceived me" (Psalm 51:5). The prophet Isaiah said, "No one sues righteously and no one pleads honestly; They trust in confusion and speak lies; They conceive mischief and bring forth iniquity" (Isa. 59:4). St. Paul said, "All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God" (Rom. 3:23).

It is incorrect, in the broadest sense, to refer to any of the Amalekites as "innocent," since both the Jewish and Christian scriptures seem to indicate that they, as humans, are sinful and flawed and therefore seek their own way rather than God's. It would seem that even the children have sinful natures, according to these texts.

In a slightly more specific sense, it is also incorrect to refer to the Amalekite nation as "innocent." This is the same tribe that sneak-attacked the Israelite people when they were weak and wandering in the wilderness. God did not simply wake up one day and say, "Hot damn, let's kill us some Amalekites!" Rather, there were concrete historical and cultural reasons that made the elimination of the Amalekite people a necessity. For one thing, the two nations were constantly at odds. For another, the culture of the Amalekites was one of the many in the region that would draw the Israelites' attention to polytheistic, idolatrous rituals and ultimately threaten their "chosen-ness," which the Abrahamic convenant made an absolute necessity in order for God's promises to be fulfilled to His chosen people.*
(*Note that strangers who wished to cast their lot with God's chosen people were allowed to do so -- including any of the Amalekites who wished to become part of Israel. That is why there are Levitical laws dealing with "the stranger in your midst.")

In addition, before the Israelites even entered the land of Caanan, God promised His people that He would give them an ultimate, permanent victory against the Amalekites. At that point, it would have made Him a liar if he had NOT ordered the Israelites to go out against Amalek.

The animals are a little more problematic, as they really are incapable of sin. The Levitical laws make it clear that no animal is to experience undue suffering. Nonetheless, animals are property, not people, in the Judeo-Christian worldview. God made it clear that He did not want his people to profit materially from the destruction of the Amalekite culture... and He even reprimanded Saul for sacrificing some of the cattle he had kept alive. The animals that were killed were destined either to be slaughtered or to continue laboring for their Amalekite masters if the Israelites had not killed them, so I am not sure that excessive concern for the animals is very appropriate here.

2.) The Nature of God and Morality

The prophet Micah said, "He has told you, O man, what is good; And what does the LORD require of you But to do justice, to love kindness, And to walk humbly with your God?" (Micah 6:8) Moses said, "You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might" (Deut. 6:5). Jesus said the greatest commandment was, "YOU SHALL LOVE THE LORD YOUR GOD WITH ALL YOUR HEART, AND WITH ALL YOUR SOUL, AND WITH ALL YOUR MIND," and the second one, which is like the first, is "YOU SHALL LOVE YOUR NEIGHBOR AS YOURSELF" (Mt. 22:37, 39). James, Jesus's brother, said, "Every good thing given and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow" (James 1:17).

God is the source of goodness, and we are made in His image. I believe this is where our fundamental notions of right and wrong come from. We know what is good, and we know when we have been wronged. To argue about whether goodness exists because of God or whether it exists independently seems to me to be little more than Platonic sophistry. It also overlooks the real point: God is good, and that does not change.

God commands justice and righteous behavior all through the Bible, but this is especially evident in the Old Testament. Many of the laws that some people take as signs of God's harsh rules are in place to prevent people from taking advantage of one another. And whenever God summarizes the most important rules, they are always twofold: love God, and treat your fellow humans right. The second of these sounds a lot like Evil Bender's concept of morality. So the real question, then, is how the Amalek incident fits into this directive.

If God were a human, I would have absolutely no problem with decrying the destruction of the Amalekites. But I would only do this because he had:
1.) No moral ground for the action, since he would be destroying those who were just as flawed as he was;
2.) No good justification for the action, since he is a mere human and cannot tell whether it is better for the Amalekites to die or to go on thriving; and
3.) Absolutely no authority for the action.

God is good and humans are not. He is blameless, and no human is. He would be justified in wiping us all out at any moment. That He tolerates our flawed existence on earth is a sign of His grace and desire for us to come to know Him.

God is all-knowing. He sees the consequences of every action and reaction, right down to end of the chain. Therefore, he has the necessary knowledge to decide when, where, and how things should happen to achieve the optimal outcome. After the Amalekites ambushed Israel in the desert and the Israelites were reeling from nearly being wiped out in the wilderness, God promised that the Amalekites would pay. And at the right time, God kept his word by commanding Saul to go out to battle against the enemy tribe. God's plans are not half-baked.

The Amalekites attacked God's chosen people, whom He had promised to protect. Moreover, they continued to attack them in every generation. If you were God and had an obligation to protect the Israelite nation in a pre-diplomatic age, how would you handle it without violating the Amalekites' free will and turning them into automatons? If there was a better solution, wouldn't He have found it?

So this turned out to be a lot longer than I thought, and I will wager that almost no one who reads it will be completely satisfied (including me), but it helped me to think through this question, so I am happy.

LolBible!

2007-11-13T21:35:00.001-06:00

Hehe -- one of the funniest things I have seen all day is the lolcats translation of the Song of Solomon. Give it a glance -- worth the click, in my very humble opinion.

And while you're there, why not translate a few chapters yourself?

A letter to Mortgage Company A

2007-11-04T20:03:00.000-06:00

We have been trying to get a little mortgage issue straightened out for about the past three months, ever since receiving a check for $679.00 for overpayment of our home insurance premiums. Took us a while, but we finally got it resolved. I was a little peeved that I was the one who had to do the work to give Mortgage Company A their money back, but I work at a call center, so I know that complaints are no fun for anyone. Nevertheless, I did want to make my displeasure known, so I wrote this. The names have been changed to protect my hinder quarters from a lawsuit. Enjoy.

Sunday, November 4, 2007

To: Mortgage Company A
From: luaphacim

Re: Returning Funds Withdrawn in Error from Escrow Account
Account Number: 123456789
Name: Mr. and Mrs. luaphacim

To Whom It May Concern:

The following events have transpired over the past few months, resulting in almost immeasurable consternation for both me and my lovely bride of two years, seven months, and twenty days. I appreciate your attention to this matter and hope that it can be brought to a quick resolution.

On July 9, 2007, we bought a home, taking out an FHA loan from MORTGAGE COMPANY A to do so. It is a nice home, with plenty of room and some pretty good amenities. For instance, the sellers threw in a free refrigerator which, unfortunately, leaks like a diabetic racehorse. However, as we do not believe in looking gift refrigerators in the mouth, we are quite satisfied with our purchase.

At our closing, $679.00 was taken from our closing costs and paid to INSURANCE COMPANY X as our first year of premium for our home owner’s insurance.

On or around July 18, 2007, a withdrawal of $679.00 was made from our MORTGAGE COMPANY A escrow account and sent to INSURANCE COMPANY X for our first year of home owner’s insurance, leaving our escrow account with a negative balance. Since we had also paid for our first year of insurance at closing, this was a double payment. I do not have a degree in finance or anything, but I suspect that this is not supposed to happen to an escrow account. Ever.

On August 6, 2007, INSURANCE COMPANY X Insurance sent us a check in the amount of $679.00 to reimburse us for overpayment of our premiums. Naturally, since we did not know that MORTGAGE COMPANY A had made the erroneous withdrawal from our escrow account, this caused us some degree of confusion and concern. My wife and I made several calls to INSURANCE COMPANY X in order to find out why this check had been sent, and we eventually found that one of the checks had come from MORTGAGE COMPANY A.

We made a number of efforts to communicate with our local MORTGAGE COMPANY A personnel about this error, but they repeatedly told us that they would have to “wait to hear back from the national office,” or some such thing. Please do not take this as a complaint about them, though – they were very helpful with a number of things. Just not this one, really.

On September 1, 2007, MORTGAGE COMPANY A sold our ~~souls~~ home loan to MORTGAGE COMPANY B, which is a company dedicated to a diverse workforce and the good of humanity and so forth. At least, that is what I have gathered from being on hold with them for nearly an hour and listening to their never-ending loop of propaganda recordings.

On September 13, 2007, we received our MORTGAGE COMPANY A annual escrow account disclosure statement informing us that we had an escrow balance of -$132.76. At this point, we realized that something was seriously screwy with our account at your company. We were not sure whether the negative balance had been transferred over to our account with MORTGAGE COMPANY B, so we waited to see our next statement from them.

Our next MORTGAGE COMPANY B statement showed a positive escrow balance, so MORTGAGE COMPANY A clearly needs to receive the $679.00 to reconcile our account. We have therefore enclosed a check in that amount.

At your earliest convenience, please send us a letter stating that:

• You have received the enclosed check
• Our account with you has been reconciled and no further payments will be necessary

Please send this letter to:
Mr. luaphacim
1234 Main St
Someplace, KS 65432

If we do not receive this letter within a reasonable period of time, we will request a stop-pay on the enclosed check because of failure to render services. In other words: we mean business.

In addition, in consideration of the significant amount of time and effort my wife and I have expended because of MORTGAGE COMPANY A’s error, I would like to make the following demands as compensation. I understand that I will almost certainly not receive any of these demands, but it makes me feel better to demand them, so please humor me.

• A service fee of $30.90. My wife and I have spent well over six hours trying to resolve this problem, and I would like to think our time is worth at least minimum wage.
• A bag of microwave popcorn. This is useful and necessary for the watching of movies in our new family room area with the track lighting. Did I mention that our new house is totally sweet?
• A year’s worth of free rides on a Shetland pony, preferably one named “Buck.” This is a humorous name for a pony, and I think you will agree that pony rides are inherently awesome.
• U.S. military intervention to stop the genocide in Rwanda. Seriously.
• A George Foreman Grill. My doctor says I am obese, and I hear that George Foreman Grills are a great way to become magically skinny.

Please submit this list to your compliance department for consideration and so that they can laugh at my pitiful efforts to be recompensed for my valuable time, which could have been spent writing a magnificent novel or learning Japanese or on something equally edifying. I could probably make empty threats about reporting MORTGAGE COMPANY A to the Kansas Office of the State Bank Commissioner, 700 SW Jackson Street, Suite 300, Topeka KS 66603-3714, but I think we both know I am not really too serious about this, so I will not do so.

Eagerly awaiting your response, I remain your humble servant,

luaphacim

Scribblings

2007-11-01T22:52:00.001-05:00

I spent a number of very fruitless hours wrestling with a computer system several weeks ago. Basically, I was trying to see whether the new dividend scale would crash our system or not (the answer was yes it would -- surprise, surprise, surprise).

While waiting for the system to cycle forward (a process that takes anywhere between 30 seconds and three minutes per transaction), I tried my hand at some extemporaneous poetry. I had been reading Madam Murasaki's Tale of Genji that week, and I was curious about what kind of poetry I would be able to compose at a moment's notice, since that is one of the things Genji is so renowned for (besides being indescribably beautiful and unfaithful to every one of his innumerable paramours, but that is beside the point).

It's kind of tricky, because most of the poetry is highly allusive and layered with naturalistic images, and I am familiar with neither Japanese poetry nor Japanese nature imagery. I did, however, make my poems two lines long, which is more or less what Genji does in the novel, too. So that's something, anyway.

Here are a couple of the poems I came up with between cycles. Please note that they are not very good.

Waning, cloud-cloaked rays of sunlight, dim at day's end,
Promise that tomorrow will hold sufficient troubles of its own.

Squirrels scuttling through overgrown grass-
Neglected lawn teems with life.

Weddings

2007-10-14T20:45:00.000-05:00

I have taken the past two Fridays off. It has been nice -- I've had a cough, and that always seems to make me tired, so the extra day of "rest" has been beneficial. Well, at least it was beneficial when I was able to rest... but the reason I got these days off was because of weddings.

Weddings are a funny thing. I have never been a lover of ceremony, and they are almost pure ceremony. The only consolation is that my friends tend to be people who do not like ceremony very much. Last week, for example, the wedding ceremony itself only lasted about 15 or 20 minutes... and that was only because the bride's father stalled in giving her away. Then, there was a good meal, and then we were done, which was nice. Long, drawn-out parties are another thing I have never liked much.

When I was married, the reception was too big and too expensive for my tastes, but I wasn't paying, and I wanted to make my in-laws (and lovely wifey) happy, so I did not oppose the extravagance and long evening all that vigorously. Still, it could have made a decent down payment on a house...

My older brother officiated at the wedding last week, and in his message, he managed to condense all the good Christian theology I have ever heard at weddings into a message that lasted about five minutes. That is something I admire about him: he has much better summative powers than I do. He got the whole bit in: marriage is a sacred ordinance, it was honored by Christ's first miracle at Cana, it is a beautiful metaphor for Christ's relationship with the church, and it predates government and even the Church catholic. It was much better than many wedding messages I have heard, especially this one that was essentially a 45-minute exegesis of the entire chapter of I Corinthians 13.

Ultimately, I am not sure what to think about weddings. I think they tend toward unhealthy excess and brideolatry. In short, they fetishize -- and are fetishized by -- the participants in some ways that can be very damaging, I think. What's more, they are often more or less meaningless. Four months after my wedding, for instance, my brother-in-law got married, and the reverend at their wedding said as many nice things about marriage as our officiant did. If anything, she was more religious about the whole thing than our elder was. And recently, that marriage melted down and is now over in the eyes of the state.

So I'm not necessarily sure that weddings are all that great. But they certainly do provide an excellent chance to escape from my daily task of feeding myself into the horrible customer service machine as is my wont. That, at least, is worth something.

(Sorry about the disjointedness of this post -- I am tired and slightly sick still. At least it's a post!)

Busy with work...

2007-08-15T22:38:00.000-05:00

And helping Schumms move, which was delightful! :-)

Until I can post something substantial, here's a survey:

What Be Your Nerd Type? Your Result: Literature Nerd Does sitting by a nice cozy fire, with a cup of hot tea/chocolate, and a book you can read for hours even when your eyes grow red and dry and you look sort of scary sitting there with your insomniac appearance? Then you fit this category perfectly! You love the power of the written word and its (NOT "it's"!!!! Stupid Survey!!!) eloquence; and you may like to read/write poetry or novels. You contribute to the smart people of today's society, however you can probably be overly-critical of works. It's okay. I understand.
Drama Nerd
Science/Math Nerd
Gamer/Computer Nerd
Musician
Social Nerd
Anime Nerd
Artistic Nerd
What Be Your Nerd Type? Quizzes for MySpace

Sick Day

2007-08-06T17:39:00.000-05:00

I vomited at work today. Twice. Consequently, my gracious supervisor granted me half a day's unpaid leave, and I have been squandering said leave for four and a half glorious hours.

I suppose I should take a little bit of time to explain what I do so that you will know what exactly I am getting a break from. I am part of a company that does Service Operations Outsourcing in the insurance and financial industries. In simpler terms, that means I work at a service center that takes phone calls and processes customer requests. Mostly, I throw energy and patience at problems that are ultimately the fault of our monstrously inadequate computer systems. For instance, when we mistakenly draft someone's bank account for four times the actual premium, I get to clean up the mess. It's delightful work.

I have been struck of late by the importance of simplicity. I have also been struck by my seeming inability to do anything simply. For instance, at work, when I could be doing the bare minimum and sending the necessary form letters without considering my audience, I often let empathy prevent me from doing so. They hired me to be part of a machine, not an emotionally complicated person.

I suspect that my sickness today may have had as much to do with momentary dis-ease at work as it did with any disease. I must become better at detaching, or there might be more of these unfortunate experiences in the future.

As another result of my sick day, I have decided to delete a couple of other, smaller blogs that never get updated anymore. I figure that if I can't update one, I certainly can't update three. And the Internet needs less information on it, anyway. I also made a couple of changes to this blog -- hopefully, ones that are indicative of where it will go in the future. I am becoming increasingly interested in what it means to be part of a large organization, and "Noises From the Machine" seems like an apt title for where I want to experiment in the coming months in this space.

Of course, it's possible that everything in this post is a mere product of delirium and that tomorrow I will regret the changes I have made and the posts I have deleted on my other blogs. But the wonderful thing about this medium is that I can make them again if I want, but better. :-)

Sleep for now...

Hiatus

2007-07-29T19:49:00.001-05:00

You have surely noticed my hiatus from this blog. I don't know how soon, or even whether, I will take up my position in the blogosphere again. There is much to do and little time, and we must work the works of him who sent us as long as it is day. (HARR.)

I will say that I have been recently struck once more by the enormous value of friends and interaction between humans. Perhaps my position as a tooth on the cog of a highly automated, relatively impersonal industrial machine has led me to notice this, or perhaps it's just the time I have had to step back and take a look at my life and my experiences; I'm not sure.

I want to write... but I'm also not sure whether I should bother, sometimes. We'll have to see how my time allotments shape up.

E. B. White on Faith in Government

2007-07-04T17:37:00.001-05:00

I've never been one to take part in the Blogging Against Things meme, but some of E. B. White's essay, "Bedfellows," reminded me today of some ideas put forth by my esteemed friends Evil Bender and The Lizard Queen. I decided to shamelessly copy some of my favorite essayist's words on President Eisenhower's declaration that prayer was a fundamental part of democracy:

A President should pray whenever and wherever he feels like it (most Presidents have prayed hard and long, and some of them in desperation and agony), but I don't think a President should advertise prayer. That is a different thing. Democracy, if I understand it at all, is a society in which the unbeliever feels undisturbed and at home. If there were only half a dozen unbelievers in America, their well-being would be a test of our democracy, their tranquility would be its proof. The repeated suggestion by the present administration that religious faith is a precondition of the American way of life is disturbing to me and, I am willing to bet, to a good many other citizens. President Eisenhower spoke of the tremendous favorable mail he received in response to his inaugural prayer in 1953. What he perhaps did not realize is that the persons who felt fidgety or disquieted about the matter were not likely to write in about it, lest they appear irreverent, irreligious, unfaithful, or even un-American. [...]

I hope that belief never is made to appear mandatory. One of our founders, in 1787, said, "Even the diseases of the people should be represented." Those were strange, noble words, and they have endured. They were on television yesterday. I distrust the slightest hint of a standard for political rectitude, knowing that it will open the way for persons in authority to set arbitrary standards of human behavior.

While I don't agree with White on everything, I think he hits the nail on the head in this essay. As a person who holds firmly to the Christian faith, I obviously see value in religious conviction. But I also see how perverted and twisted religion inevitably becomes when it is tangled with politics, and that makes me a strong opponent of any sort of theocracy, regardless of how well-intentioned it may be.

If you've got some extra time, I'd heartily recommend reading the rest of this essay, "Bedfellows." Its main topic is is the ghost of Fred, White's dead dachsund, who haunts the writer's sickbed. Also, Democrats. :-) Good stuff.

Things have picked up a bit...

2007-06-10T22:02:00.000-05:00

The test went well (I'm licensed -- w00t), and we hopefully have another house lined up... we'll have to see how things go, but I'm excited about it. :-)

So now it's just a matter of getting through the inspections, moving, and settling down a little bit.

Also, life is really good. I wish I could think of more things to write, but that's about the extent of my thoughts at the moment.

Arachnophobia

2007-06-05T07:12:00.000-05:00

... And there's an infestation of brown recluses in the house we're negotiating to buy.

We are looking for new houses.

In other news, I'll be taking the Series 6 exam on Friday, if the Lord wills, so I'll be licensed to sell open-ended funds on the primary market. w00t. :-)

What Kind of Reader Are You?

2007-05-28T14:00:00.000-05:00

I wasn't really expecting this; I've always considered myself fairly democratic when it comes to books:

What Kind of Reader Are You? Your Result: Book Snob You like to think you're one of the literati, but actually you're just a snob who can read. You read mostly for the social credit you can get out of it.
Obsessive-Compulsive Bookworm
Dedicated Reader
Literate Good Citizen
Non-Reader
Fad Reader
What Kind of Reader Are You? Create Your Own Quiz

C'est la vie, I reckon.

...And the fact that He's Paul Freakin' McCartney doesn't matter?!

2007-05-25T07:20:00.000-05:00

From the Associated Press:

Paul McCartney snagged Natalie Portman to star in his new music video - thanks to his fashion designer-daughter, Stella.

Portman, 25, makes a cameo as a ghost in the video for "Dance Tonight," a track from McCartney's new studio album, "Memory Almost Full." The video had its world premiere Wednesday on YouTube.com.

"The connection with Natalie came from my daughter Stella, who makes non-leather shoes that Natalie buys, so I just thought, 'Well, I'll ring her up and just see if she'll do it.' So I rang her up and said, 'Hey, I'm Stella's dad!' " the 64-year-old former Beatle said in a statement posted on his website.

How lame is that, Sir Paul? "Hi, you buy shoes from my daughter DUURRRRR."

Try something like "Hi, I am one of the two remaining Beatles -- you know, the band that essentially made rock 'n' roll in America -- would you like to play a 'futurist electronic ghost' in my next music video?" It won't give you nearly so much of the "friend's creepy father" vibe.

...And my life keeps being a dervish of excitement

2007-05-21T21:36:00.000-05:00

Got hooded Saturday morning, had the fam to a picnic in the afternoon, made an offer on a house in the evening, and had it accepted that night. Sunday, I led music at church, hung out with EJ, DJ, and the four wild things, and slept for four hours before staying up late to grade.

Today was spent mostly studying for my NASD Series 6 license (which, as I understand it, will give me the right to break mutual funds and annuities or something) and working on a futile PowerPoint presentation to give to my training buddies, who will return the "favor" in kind. In other words, another productive day in Corporate America (and, like every day lately, I got paid more than I have ever received for any day spent molding America's next generation into good, upstanding citizens). In better news, I just posted my grades (for the last time EVER).

If all goes well, I will have a house and a picket fence and a lawn and a decrepit old toolshed on or before June 22. American dream, here I come. :-|

Sweet Moses, Yes!

2007-05-16T07:00:00.000-05:00

Yeah, so this is pretty much the best news this month: Spielberg and Jackson Tackle Tintin. You read that right. Soon your favorite Belgian-drawn sleuth and mine will hit the big screen in glorious 3-D animation. The best quote in this brief: "They look exactly like real people — but real Herge people!" Fantastic!

OK, so my job is going pretty well. I should be grading, but this popped up in my gmail account's header, and I HAD to share. :-)

Got a Job

2007-05-06T20:33:00.001-05:00

I'll be working in the call center of a securities company. Not a lot of money, but certainly more than I'm making right now.

The tricky part: I start training the Monday of finals week. I already found a friend to proctor an exam I have to give that week, so now I just have to attend to the simple matter of getting the rest of the semester over with in five days instead of 14.

If you're a praying person, I'd appreciate your prayers. Otherwise, give me lucky vibes or something. :-)

Rain in April: Poetry Edition

2007-04-26T07:16:00.000-05:00

Although some of my esteemed colleagues have celebrated April as National Poetry Month, I have been remiss in doing so. I keep meaning to, but time is always short, and on top of that, my taste in poetry, like my sense of fashion, is sorely lacking in a number of ways.

But it's raining today, and that brings to mind a couple of poems that I simply must share. The first is what might possibly be the first major poem in modern English, Chaucer's Canterbury Tales. Here are the first 18 lines of the prologue:

Whan that aprill with his shoures soote
The droghte of march hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;
Whan zephirus eek with his sweete breeth
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
Tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the ram his halve cours yronne,
And smale foweles maken melodye,
That slepen al the nyght with open ye
(so priketh hem nature in hir corages);
Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,
And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes,
To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes;
And specially from every shires ende
Of engelond to caunterbury they wende,
The hooly blisful martir for to seke,
That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke.

Then, of course, there's always my man T.S. Eliot, who wrote that wonderful account of the crisis of modernity, The Waste Land. It, too, begins with an account of April's showers, albeit a much bleaker one:

APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.

So, whether you're feeling Eliotish or Chaucery, I hope you have a good day, and if you're someplace near rain, may it inspire you to think good thoughts.

I have been tagged...

2007-04-21T22:28:00.000-05:00

And not in the urban way (with spraypaint). My old friend, Evil Bender, has bought into the meme, and so, I suppose, must I.

Why Do I Blog?

Not surprisingly (if you know me, anyway), that's not a question with a short answer (very few are). I have therefore divided this into a few different subsections for easier comprehension.

The Sites

I began blogging before it was awesome to do so: 1999, to be exact. At first, my blog was just a regularly updated, old-fashioned HTML page on my university personal site. I would sometimes link to stuff from Something Awful, where I used to be a goon before memberships cost money. After a while, I added The Onion and Fark to my list of frequently linked sites. This was when I had spare time.

As I became busier with singing, working, writing, and other pursuits, I moved my online persona to a series of forums where I was also a moderator (the one for The Collegian, for example). I was a beta user on Blogger during my junior year, but I quickly gave it up with the addition of more duties in the college honors program and at the newspaper.

I found more time again when I served a stint at a small mission school in Arizona, but my roommate hooked me up with a subdomain of his site. After I moved, I ran out of time again upon beginning grad school, and I didn't begin blogging again until just last year.

Why I Started Again

I got another job in journalism, and that made me start thinking about national and world news items. My natural response was to add my own opinions. This was helped along by my learning that Evil Bender had begun a blog. I shared many of his views, but not others, and I thought my blog might make a nice counterpoint to his sometimes. A few other old friends, Marshwiggle, little.hoot.owl, and Gye Nyame, also had blogs, so the medium served the dual purpose of letting me catch up with them again, at least in some very limited manner. As an added bonus, I've gotten to meet some really cool new virtual friends like The Lizard Queen in the process.

My Subject Matter

Not an easy thing to describe. I'm sometimes political, but more often just ridiculous. I've made attempts at a more-or-less creative blog, with limited success. At the moment, I'm in a state of flux in my life; I'm about to graduate, and with that comes much instability. I really don't know if I'll continue after moving past school or not. Part of me wants to, but another part wants to cut the online cord completely. Already, I've added somethingawful.com, fark.com, and theonion.com to my list of blocked sites in my Hosts file on my home computer, and I can honestly say I haven't missed them at all. So maybe I'll eventually add Blogger to the list? I really don't know.

Above all, my online philosophy is that I really don't have anything to say that hasn't been said a hundred times by clearer and more eloquent writers, so what I write doesn't especially matter. I don't know how true that is, but it seems like a pretty logical and realistic approach. It helps me not to have dashed hopes, anyway.

If I must tag someone new, I guess I'll tag Marshwiggle, little.hoot.owl, and Gye Nyame.

And another one bites the dust...

2007-04-20T07:41:00.000-05:00

The Mexican golden boy of the Bush administration is about to be gone, by all accounts. His dismal performance before the Senate has convinced everyone -- even Arlen Specter -- that he needs to be fired for being a terrible liar. The Toronto Globe and Mail has the story:

U.S. Attorney-General Alberto Gonzales, President George W. Bush's long-time friend and trusted legal adviser, was clinging to his job yesterday after failing to persuade skeptical senators that he wasn't lying.

One can't help but wonder why so many members of our upstanding Christian president's staff end up getting in trouble for lying like sociopaths.

I have no words worth describing this...

2007-04-18T09:52:00.000-05:00

I'm trying to think of something to say about this indescribable thing, but I'm failing miserably. Go to the site, see the video, and weep.

(The squirrel's name is apparently MC Nuts.)

The Perils of the Information Age

2007-04-16T07:24:00.000-05:00

This Associated Press article should serve as a warning to those who would argue that new technology is inarguably superior to what came before:

The state Mental Health Department agreed to pay a Los Angeles hotel $877 million in 2005 to hold a two-day training conference, according to state records. $877 million? For a two-day conference?

It's wrong -- not even close. The actual contract was $36,200 and the agency spent only about $21,000, invoices show.

Inclusion of the dramatically higher amount in a vast computerized index of state contracts was an honest mistake, the result of a worker typing a billing code where the contract's value should have been listed, officials say. An attempted fix created a duplicate listing, leading to confusion rather than clarity.

Those problems point to a larger issue: The database set up to provide a window into how California spends billions of taxpayer dollars is badly flawed. The inventory of tens of thousands of contracts and purchases is littered with typographical errors and jargon, undercut by omissions and weakened by uncertainty over what gets listed, when and by whom, an investigation by The Associated Press has found. ...

Indeed, big mistakes can occur with a missed keyboard stoke and there is no comprehensive way for General Services to find and correct them. The agency says the responsibility for accuracy rests with each state department, in what amounts to an "honor system."

"DGS clearly would not be able to tell that there is 100 percent compliance unless we monitored and double-checked each of those hundreds of thousands of entries," spokesman Bill Branch said.

There isn't anything close to 100 percent compliance, AP found while reviewing entries on thousands of contracts.

For example, computer records show in September 2004 the Conservation Department agreed to pay $32,000 to Arrow Restaurant Equipment for a coffee maker. The department has no record of such a deal.

That's because it wasn't a Conservation Department contract. It was the Sierra Conservation Center, a unit of the Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation. And it wasn't for one coffee maker, but 20 commercial-sized machines.

As I have argued before, technology cannot be inherently good or evil, efficient or inefficient. There certainly can be technologies that are less conducive to efficiency, as well as technologies that are more useful for people with immoral actions in mind, but the technology is only so efficient, good, and useful as its operators are.

Indeed, in some ways, this database technology is more dangerous than the systems that preceded it; a single slip of the finger can result in disastrously high or low figures being recorded in the state's budget (or at least estimates designed to help determine the budget).

I see this in a part-time technology-based job I have, too -- people constantly make small mistakes that they never would have the opportunity to make if they were working with hard copies.

No, I'm not a technophobe, but I think it's pretty clear that the information age is not without its pitfalls. And human fallibility almost guarantees that we those pitfalls will get a lot of use, regardless of how important accuracy is. Quality-control programs can only help so much...

Never before have so many minimum-wage workers been able to screw up so much by doing so little wrong.

Stem Cell Followup

2007-04-12T22:18:00.000-05:00

There were a couple of interesting responses to my last post; I'll post Marshwiggle's here, along with some of my thoughts on the issues he raises.

Please note Bush's support for the alternative bill using adult stem cell research before condemning him as antiscientific. In the meantime, please point out one cure that embryonic research has been able to accomplish that adult cells have not?

You may have a point about fertility clinics. Perhaps the prolife movement can address that after the abortion clinic problem is taken care of. :) In the meantime, the idea of growing humans for body parts, especially children/embryos that have no say in the matter is surely raising troubling morality issues for you?

The problem with old tissue is that it often is not nearly as flexible as new tissue. That's why relying solely on adult stem cells is somewhat problematic. Besides, to dismiss a readily available source for research -- particularly when the "murder," if it is one, has already been committed by perfectly legal fertility clinics -- seems a bit short-sighted to me.

It also was not my intention to declare all-out jihad on fertility clinics; I think EB has a good point when he observes:

In the end, fertility clinics are a moral good because they let the infertile have children. Letting embryos be wasted when they could be saving lives seems like a political move designed to appease the base, not any real morality or science.

As for showing you progress of the research on adult vs. embryonic stem cells, I'm afraid that I don't know enough about the matter to do so. But I would remark that embryonic stem cell research is bound to be at least six years behind adult stem cell research, for obvious political reasons, so perhaps it isn't fair to call for such evidence yet (and, indeed, won't be until scientists are allowed to investigate the question).

If I thought what was happening was, in fact, growing humans for body parts, I would have some fairly substantial objections to it. But I don't necessarily think that, for the reason I stated above: Any "murder," if there is one, is over and done with (legally, I might add) long before researchers become involved. And, as EB observes, there is perhaps room to argue over whether there was a murder in the first place:

I think most people recognize that calling the combination of a sperm and egg, frozen and perpetually waiting for a womb or to be thrown out--to call that small group of cells a person is problematic.

Given the complete inability for those cells to become a human being without a womb, I would argue that at very least humanity can't start until successful implantation in the uterus.

I'm not saying I want to abort as many fetuses as possible and then use their tissue for devious scientific experiments on raising the dead and so forth. I do, however, think we should give embryonic stem cell research much more open-minded consideration than we currently are.

It's also worth noting that the number of senators who approve of such research is steadily growing and is now only four votes away from what is needed to override a veto (yesterday's vote was 63-34). If that trend continues, or if an embryonic research-friendly prez is elected in 2008, I suppose the overwhelming voice of public opinion will make this a moot discussion.

Congress and Stem Cells

2007-04-12T07:35:00.000-05:00

The Senate struck a blow for science yesterday, albeit a futile one:

In a largely symbolic act, the Senate voted Wednesday to lift restrictions on federal funding for embryonic stem cell research. President Bush has vowed to veto the measure, as he did last year, and backers acknowledged they don't have the votes to override him.

I don't really understand the objections that lawmakers have to embryonic stem cell research, especially since it would use embryos that are created by fertility clinics and then not implanted. It seems wasteful not to do research on them.

Speaking of which, why don't conservatives speak out more often against fertility clinics, if they really are convinced that life begins at conception? Wouldn't that mean that fertility clinics are guiltier of orchestrating mass slaughter than abortion clinics are? After all, abortion clinics don't actively create embryos that they know will never develop and be born, whereas fertility clinics must do that. Eh.

In Case You Were Wondering...

2007-04-04T18:45:00.000-05:00

The exam this morning went really, really well, and now my brain is tired.

I skipped Beowulf and spent the afternoon snuggling and napping with my sweetie.

Life is sunshine and bunnies today.