Heather allowed me to go buy some toys on Black Friday. In particular was a pair of Pandigital Novel eReaders. They are nice little machines with color touchscreens and can play music.
What I did not know was that they are moderately functional tablet computers! I can go online wifi, surf, email, etc and it seems I can also download Android apps.
Do I really want to bring Angry Birds into my life?
I spend my lunchtime trying to find what apps work with this machine because...of course...MY machine is not the most robust out there. There is a large Internet community for the earlier versions of this tablet but not so much for the latest.
Anyone know about the Black PanDigital Novel eReader or BPDN as it is called?
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
New Post Label...Kvetching
In my admittedly limited experience with languages beyond English, I find that few people have as robust a manner of speech as the Jews. Yiddish in particular is blessed with hundreds of profoundly meaningful words that are at once descriptive and fun to say.
Today's word is Kvetch and it's active form, Kvetching.
As I understand the term, to kvetch is more than just complaining, although that is the simplest translation. There is also a deeper tone of soul-wrenching frustration coupled to a sense of the idiocy of others.
For example, not one half hour ago I was moving some product on my forklift. My boss brought it to me and I was approaching the stacked pallets. Suddenly another forktruck zooms between me and the drums, bringing some packaging supplies back to the warehouse. After I shoved my heart back into my chest I took-up the pallets and turned to bring them into that self-same warehouse. Lo and behold, there sat the interloper, parked infront of the very row in which I had been placing my loads. Five minutes he sat there, examining some paperwork. Finally my patience broke and I dropped my stuff next to the intended, alloted space and gently asked him to move his posterior out of the way.
For his complete lack of awareness of the world around him, I offer my co-worker a sincere and heart-felt KVETCH.
Today's word is Kvetch and it's active form, Kvetching.
As I understand the term, to kvetch is more than just complaining, although that is the simplest translation. There is also a deeper tone of soul-wrenching frustration coupled to a sense of the idiocy of others.
For example, not one half hour ago I was moving some product on my forklift. My boss brought it to me and I was approaching the stacked pallets. Suddenly another forktruck zooms between me and the drums, bringing some packaging supplies back to the warehouse. After I shoved my heart back into my chest I took-up the pallets and turned to bring them into that self-same warehouse. Lo and behold, there sat the interloper, parked infront of the very row in which I had been placing my loads. Five minutes he sat there, examining some paperwork. Finally my patience broke and I dropped my stuff next to the intended, alloted space and gently asked him to move his posterior out of the way.
For his complete lack of awareness of the world around him, I offer my co-worker a sincere and heart-felt KVETCH.
Monday, November 28, 2011
The Horror of Growing Old
I realized something rather profound this morning. There is a reason why women hate aging so much; why men like younger women; and at who's doorstep the fault lies.
By nature (whether you ascribe that to evolution or God) women mature both physically and mentally faster than men. This is an undisputed fact. As such we find in the early teens that 12-14 year old girls are very interested in the 14-18 year old boys. They desire the more developed bodies and greater mental range.
Very few of us are able to compete with the taller, stronger guys. As a result, the peer boys are left "out in the cold" in regards to social combat. And despite what women the world over may think, guys do learn. As the awkward teen years give way to young manhood we are still several years behind our female counterparts. Their needs are different from ours. Thus we will long for the older or peer female as physically more attractive but gravitate to the younger girls who are available and craving our attention. This situation has existed forever and probably will continue to do so.
But here's the rub: During those 3-4 years of angst-ridden, hormone-flooded loneliness, the boy has modified his expectations. Older and peer women have rebuffed us, sometimes cruelly, for our immaturity. We begin to think of younger as more beautiful and valuable out of a sense of self-preservation. This lesson stays with us our entire lives.
Fast-forward to the prime mating years and you will continue to see younger women with older men. This is unnecessary since (for the most part) guys reach parity of maturity with women in their early to mid-twenties. To see a 24 year old woman dating a 30 year old guy is merely an artifact of the disparity seen in the adolescent years.
But what about the girls during that time? The same mechanism leads the female to develop father fixations. If they have had a good dad then he becomes the archetype of what a man should be. If he is bad then the girl will often chase that same type of fool in a desperate attempt to win his love; proving her worth and thus "save" her father. The psychological implications are complex. In the end though, it results also in the older man / younger woman scenario.
Now back to the twenties. If either party in a relationship has not grown past their initial assumptions regarding an appropriate mate, even worse if neither have, then the age difference can increase to the absurd.
Add another 15 years and trouble ensues. 40-something men begin to see receding hair, achy joints, a spare tire and they start looking Mortality in the face. A thin veneer of experience has helped them enjoy a deep love for their 35 year old wife, but lurking ever just under the surface is that early life lesson that "younger is beautiful, more exciting and safer". Too many men suddenly give up all to try and recapture their youth with a fast car and new girlfriend, often half his age.
And what of that older wife? She has finally reached the age where she feels comfortable in her skin. Her body has now reached the full potential of womanhood. Her husband is just now beginning to resemble that half-imagined greatness of her father. At this very moment is when everything falls apart. His betrayals (great or small) undermine the new-found confidence. She sees younger women (and is bombarded by pop culture) to recognize that she is no longer the ideal figure of femininity. Self-doubt grows. Within a few short years the natural effects of aging set-in. Yet her desire is still to her husband who grows ever more debonair and distinguished. She on the other hand is wrinkled, puffy, sagging and ever more bitter.
So who's fault is this? Mother Nature? God? No! It is the fault of every young girl who dismisses a classmate's invitation to a movie with a contemptuous laugh. It is the fault of every parent who didn't teach their daughter kindness and understanding. Blame attaches itself to the boy who, in the face of sarcasm, does not lift his head up and remember that he is a good and valuable person. His parents share the burden for not helping him to understand why these things are happening.
In the end, it is all of our faults, for not having enough love, careing, understanding, patience and kindness to those we know. And especially to those we don't.
Please, if I am unkind to anyone who reads this, help me to remember that harm I may cause and avoid it. I want to be good to others.
By nature (whether you ascribe that to evolution or God) women mature both physically and mentally faster than men. This is an undisputed fact. As such we find in the early teens that 12-14 year old girls are very interested in the 14-18 year old boys. They desire the more developed bodies and greater mental range.
Very few of us are able to compete with the taller, stronger guys. As a result, the peer boys are left "out in the cold" in regards to social combat. And despite what women the world over may think, guys do learn. As the awkward teen years give way to young manhood we are still several years behind our female counterparts. Their needs are different from ours. Thus we will long for the older or peer female as physically more attractive but gravitate to the younger girls who are available and craving our attention. This situation has existed forever and probably will continue to do so.
But here's the rub: During those 3-4 years of angst-ridden, hormone-flooded loneliness, the boy has modified his expectations. Older and peer women have rebuffed us, sometimes cruelly, for our immaturity. We begin to think of younger as more beautiful and valuable out of a sense of self-preservation. This lesson stays with us our entire lives.
Fast-forward to the prime mating years and you will continue to see younger women with older men. This is unnecessary since (for the most part) guys reach parity of maturity with women in their early to mid-twenties. To see a 24 year old woman dating a 30 year old guy is merely an artifact of the disparity seen in the adolescent years.
But what about the girls during that time? The same mechanism leads the female to develop father fixations. If they have had a good dad then he becomes the archetype of what a man should be. If he is bad then the girl will often chase that same type of fool in a desperate attempt to win his love; proving her worth and thus "save" her father. The psychological implications are complex. In the end though, it results also in the older man / younger woman scenario.
Now back to the twenties. If either party in a relationship has not grown past their initial assumptions regarding an appropriate mate, even worse if neither have, then the age difference can increase to the absurd.
Add another 15 years and trouble ensues. 40-something men begin to see receding hair, achy joints, a spare tire and they start looking Mortality in the face. A thin veneer of experience has helped them enjoy a deep love for their 35 year old wife, but lurking ever just under the surface is that early life lesson that "younger is beautiful, more exciting and safer". Too many men suddenly give up all to try and recapture their youth with a fast car and new girlfriend, often half his age.
And what of that older wife? She has finally reached the age where she feels comfortable in her skin. Her body has now reached the full potential of womanhood. Her husband is just now beginning to resemble that half-imagined greatness of her father. At this very moment is when everything falls apart. His betrayals (great or small) undermine the new-found confidence. She sees younger women (and is bombarded by pop culture) to recognize that she is no longer the ideal figure of femininity. Self-doubt grows. Within a few short years the natural effects of aging set-in. Yet her desire is still to her husband who grows ever more debonair and distinguished. She on the other hand is wrinkled, puffy, sagging and ever more bitter.
So who's fault is this? Mother Nature? God? No! It is the fault of every young girl who dismisses a classmate's invitation to a movie with a contemptuous laugh. It is the fault of every parent who didn't teach their daughter kindness and understanding. Blame attaches itself to the boy who, in the face of sarcasm, does not lift his head up and remember that he is a good and valuable person. His parents share the burden for not helping him to understand why these things are happening.
In the end, it is all of our faults, for not having enough love, careing, understanding, patience and kindness to those we know. And especially to those we don't.
Please, if I am unkind to anyone who reads this, help me to remember that harm I may cause and avoid it. I want to be good to others.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
God has a Sense of Humor...I Hope
My family and I religious people. We go to church every Sunday and try to do right by others. This includes teaching our kids to love God; live an honorable life; and to pray daily.
Kenneth, the four-year-old, is learning the habit, even if he doesn't quite understand the principle. Thus ensues the hilarity. In the past few months he has prayed for: a big giant table, snow in Bakersfield, a giant-chocolate-Kenneth-filled-with-marshmallow, and a baby sister-another baby sister-and a baby brother.
Now Heather and I would love to have another child but at 43 and 41 respectively the clock is ticking loudly. I doubt if we have three more in us. Unless ofcourse the Lord decides to give us triplets (Oh please no!!!).
While this is all mildly amusing, the reason I hope God has a sense of humor is that Kenneth has been asked to give a prayer during the children's Sunday School program next week.
In my mind's eye there appears a prim and serious Kiff, ready to do his best at addressing God for and in behalf of the assembled kids. He rises to the podium, folds his arms and bows his little head. After opening with heartfelt appreciation for giving us a good day he launches into all the various things he would like. He includes the Holy Ghost that all present will be able to learn of the Gospel; he invokes a blessing upon the teachers to do well; and then beseeches the Omnipotent One to help mommy and Daddy stop talking long enough to make him a baby sister and another baby sister and a baby brother. The invocation closes in the Divine name...amen. The resultant silence will ride atop the low rumble of laughter bouncing from one adult to another.
I foresee this awkward moment and THERE IS NOTHING I CAN DO ABOUT IT!
I hope God has a sense of humor.
Kenneth, the four-year-old, is learning the habit, even if he doesn't quite understand the principle. Thus ensues the hilarity. In the past few months he has prayed for: a big giant table, snow in Bakersfield, a giant-chocolate-Kenneth-filled-with-marshmallow, and a baby sister-another baby sister-and a baby brother.
Now Heather and I would love to have another child but at 43 and 41 respectively the clock is ticking loudly. I doubt if we have three more in us. Unless ofcourse the Lord decides to give us triplets (Oh please no!!!).
While this is all mildly amusing, the reason I hope God has a sense of humor is that Kenneth has been asked to give a prayer during the children's Sunday School program next week.
In my mind's eye there appears a prim and serious Kiff, ready to do his best at addressing God for and in behalf of the assembled kids. He rises to the podium, folds his arms and bows his little head. After opening with heartfelt appreciation for giving us a good day he launches into all the various things he would like. He includes the Holy Ghost that all present will be able to learn of the Gospel; he invokes a blessing upon the teachers to do well; and then beseeches the Omnipotent One to help mommy and Daddy stop talking long enough to make him a baby sister and another baby sister and a baby brother. The invocation closes in the Divine name...amen. The resultant silence will ride atop the low rumble of laughter bouncing from one adult to another.
I foresee this awkward moment and THERE IS NOTHING I CAN DO ABOUT IT!
I hope God has a sense of humor.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Oy, Tevye
"Dear God, you made many, many poor people.
I realize, of course, that it's no shame to be poor.
But it's no great honor either!
So, what would have been so terrible if I had a small fortune?"
But it's no great honor either!
So, what would have been so terrible if I had a small fortune?"
I love Tevye. I’m not ashamed to admit it. Even as a young boy I felt an instant connection to the poor Milkman of Anatevka. He, struggling to provide for his family amidst the strife and poverty of feudal Russia; his wife, Golda, always on the prowl to make a “good match” for their five daughters; and the girls, just on the cusp of womanhood; each facing challenges they never imagined.
And like that “Fiddler on the Roof”, Tevye is forever swaying back and forth between his innate wisdom, the desire to bring joy to his daughter’s lives and the overarching traditions which have preserved his people for millennia.
The movie (and I presume the play) has a fine comedic interlude with the song If I Were a Rich Man. Tevye begins by fantasizing about all the things he would do with his small fortune and inexorably progresses to one of his heart’s fondest dreams, to have the time with which to improve his knowledge of the Torah and discuss it with the learned men. Our hero is deeply devoted to God in a way that allows him to talk to the Supreme Being as if to a friend. And is that not a beautiful relationship to have?
In the cinematic version, his song ends by asking God in a powerful and searching plea, “Would it spoil some vast eternal plan if I were a wealthy man?” My answer to him is, “Yes Tevye. Being who you are right now, it most certainly would spoil at least a small part of that vast Eternal plan.” Let us examine his words carefully and see why.
If I were a rich man,
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
All day long I'd biddy biddy bum.
If I were a wealthy man.
I wouldn't have to work hard.
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
If I were a biddy biddy rich,
Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
If I were a biddy biddy rich,
Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.
I cannot say where, and perhaps my Jewish friends could help me, but somewhere I came to understand that the words biddy biddy bum are a reference to prayer in general or a specific type of prayer. I will work off of that premise.
So Tevye, if you were rich you would pray all day long? Prayer is a wonderful thing but don’t you pray all day already? Talking to God and discussing the issues of the day? And did not God place us here to work? Was not one of His first commands to Adam, one never revoked, to take command and stewardship of the earth and work it? Was not the “curse” placed upon Adam that, “by the sweat of your face shalt thou eat bread”?
Though I am sure you did not mean it, to think that God would smile upon you for trying to avoid His word through your wealth is dangerous at best.
I'd build a big tall house with rooms by the dozen,
Right in the middle of the town.
A fine tin roof with real wooden floors below.
There would be one long staircase just going up,
And one even longer coming down,
And one more leading nowhere, just for show.
Tevye my friend, you have big dreams. “A big tall house with rooms by the dozen”? Do you really need that? True you have five daughters and each could use their own room and another private space beside. Then dining and storage rooms; a sitting room; library; closets; workshops…but even with all that I can only see 20 rooms at best. Yea, that’s almost two dozen but it isn’t “by the dozen”. You are a good, honest, hard-working man who understands the evil of waste. Would you really want to start wasting money and space for a house that is so far beyond your needs? Unless…
I'd fill my yard with chicks and turkeys and geese and ducks
For the town to see and hear.
And each loud "cheep" and "swaqwk" and "honk" and "quack"
Would land like a trumpet on the ear,
As if to say "Here lives a wealthy man."
Oy veh Tevye! I am astounded and perplexed that you, of all people, would be so afflicted with the sin of Pride. Would you do all this just for the benefit of gaining the envy of the townsfolk? Aren’t you respected and honored by your friends already? Would you rather be hated than loved? The people will rather mark you for your raised nose than anything. They will no longer wish you “Good Sabbath” for the joy in their hearts at your appearance but they will say the words for fear of what you could do to them or to gain favor in pursuit of their own ends. It plants a tiny but hateful lie in the ear, and in the guise of a blessing, thus doubly cursed.
If I were a rich man,
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
All day long I'd biddy biddy bum.
If I were a wealthy man.
I wouldn't have to work hard.
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
If I were a biddy biddy rich,
Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.
I see my wife, my Golde, looking like a rich man's wife
With a proper double-chin.
Supervising meals to her heart's delight.
I see her putting on airs and strutting like a peacock.
Oy, what a happy mood she's in.
Screaming at the servants, day and night.
Oh now this is too much. Golda is a headstrong woman who wishes to have her hand in every decision. If you came into money and she had the freedom to give rein to her tendencies, she would become an angry, haughty and domineering shrew! Is that the fate you desire for her? God forbid it! To become like Lazar Wolf’s first wife Fruma-Sarah? Oh but she was a bitter woman! Golda of all people needs the heavy restraining hand of poverty to keep her humble. Would it please God for Golda to be screaming at the servants day and night as you say? Would their lives be any happier then than yours is now? Would the wealth make you and your family better people? Repent of your fantasies Tevye, for Golda’s sake.
The most important men in town would come to fawn on me!
They would ask me to advise them,
Like a Solomon the Wise.
"If you please, Reb Tevye..."
"Pardon me, Reb Tevye..."
Posing problems that would cross a rabbi's eyes!
And it won't make one bit of difference if i answer right or wrong.
When you're rich, they think you really know!
And so we see the dangers of pride. How easily it creeps into our hearts and twists the good man’s soul. From a poor but honest man my hero Tevye has become callous and cold toward those who trust him the most. “…it won’t make one bit of difference if I answer right or wrong”? Really? People are coming to you for advice just as they would the Rabbi and it makes no difference to you whether your advice is good or not? What if they lose their livelihood? Their family? Their life? No Tevye, the giving of advice is a dangerous matter and one not to be entered into lightly. The tongue should be guarded at all times lest we lead our neighbor into temptation. How many friendships have been ruined by the ill-considered word? Put away this arrogance lest you follow that arch mocker Ha-Satan.
If I were rich, I'd have the time that I lack
To sit in the synagogue and pray.
And maybe have a seat by the Eastern wall.
And I'd discuss the holy books with the learned men, several hours every day.
That would be the sweetest thing of all.
Now at last we find the truth of your heart. My brother Tevye wishes most to learn. As the Mishnah says, "Whoever has no regard for the honor of his creator is worthy of not having come into the world." Of that Maimonides explains "the honor of his creator"…"This means whoever has no regard for his intellect, for the intellect is the glory of God.”
Yes, it would be sweet to spend much of the day studying the holy books. How thrilling it would be to peer into the minds of the most learned Rabbis of all time. If a rich man, and one with much time on his hands, then at least be a wise one who is pious before God and free of his substance toward those in need. Only then would riches be of any real use to you.
God would have us be good, loving, kind, generous, honorable, helpful, always striving to do better, eschewing evil, shunning temptations. The Christians say that it is harder for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter Heaven. Why take those burdens upon yourself Tevye, when today you are good and wise, yearning for that God who created you.
If I were a rich man,
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
All day long I'd biddy biddy bum.
If I were a wealthy man.
I wouldn't have to work hard.
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
If I were a biddy biddy rich,
Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
What the...?
Okay, I just have to know. What is the deal with Haunted Mansion- Tale of the Crowned Guest? Over ten percent of my blog hits are for this one story. That is saying something considering that there are over 130 postings.
For my German guests it is an even higher percentage. I believe fully 3/4 of the visitors from Deutschland have read that post.
I think it is pretty good but, could someone PLEASE give me some feedback. Unless of course the allure is for the "Worst Story Ever Told" competition. If that is the case you can keep your snide remarks to yourself ya rotten jerks.
Ta
Brian
For my German guests it is an even higher percentage. I believe fully 3/4 of the visitors from Deutschland have read that post.
I think it is pretty good but, could someone PLEASE give me some feedback. Unless of course the allure is for the "Worst Story Ever Told" competition. If that is the case you can keep your snide remarks to yourself ya rotten jerks.
Ta
Brian
Thursday, November 10, 2011
The Terrible Questions...Intro
Have you ever asked yourself the Terrible Questions? I am sure you have. Almost every person who has ever lived on this earth has, in a moment of introspection, wondered, "Why am I here; Does God exist; What happens after I die; and Why is there evil in the world?"
Philosophers from the earliest times have wrestled with these foundational aspects of the Human Existence and found a wide array of answers from the classic Greek despondency (which led irresistibly to the Tragedies of their theater) to the utterly nihilistic Marxian belief that Man exists for the sole purpose of increasing his own power at the expense of all others.
In greatest humility I wish to put forth my thoughts on these questions, standing on the shoulders of the mighty, learned and inspired, so that perhaps I might bring peace and comfort to the minds of those who are troubled by this great adventure we call Life.
Be aware, I am unabashedly a Christian and after discussing the most basic question, "Is there a God?", everything I say thereafter will proceed from that viewpoint.
So, let us take a journey together and see if we can find some meaning to the pitiful few moments we endure on this seemingly God-forsaken rock.
Philosophers from the earliest times have wrestled with these foundational aspects of the Human Existence and found a wide array of answers from the classic Greek despondency (which led irresistibly to the Tragedies of their theater) to the utterly nihilistic Marxian belief that Man exists for the sole purpose of increasing his own power at the expense of all others.
In greatest humility I wish to put forth my thoughts on these questions, standing on the shoulders of the mighty, learned and inspired, so that perhaps I might bring peace and comfort to the minds of those who are troubled by this great adventure we call Life.
Be aware, I am unabashedly a Christian and after discussing the most basic question, "Is there a God?", everything I say thereafter will proceed from that viewpoint.
So, let us take a journey together and see if we can find some meaning to the pitiful few moments we endure on this seemingly God-forsaken rock.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Through Rose Colored Glasses...or Blue or Green
I was just reading the news as is my wont, when I had a rather disconcerting idea...not everyone sees things the same way I do. Shocking, I know! You might think that at 41 I am a little old to have just now discovered the concepts of opinion and intellectual divergance but then I have often been described as a bit slow on the uptake.
Anyway, as I was saying, this epiphany has caused me to question and indeed understand the world around me in an entirely new light. Specifically, I now perceive that logic and rationality have very little to do with people's opinions. Perspective and pride are much larger determiners of how individuals view the world.
One specific case comes to mind. President George W. Bush lead the country in an invasion of Iraq based upon the recommendations of the Intelligence Community. He was told that Saddam had WMDs, in particular chemical weapons. His possessing such items was in violation of international law and UN declarations stemming from the first Gulf War. Now whether you agreed with GHW Bush's invasion or not is immaterial. It happened and Iraq was bound.
Going in everyone in a decision making role (including Hillary Clinton and ALL the other leading Democrats) accepted the CIA reports as factual. After hitting the ground though, our specialists were not able to find the massive stockpiles that everyone expected. Since that time the mantra, "Bush lied-People died" has become "fact".
I put scare quotes around that last word because as it turns out, Saddam DID have the remnants of a chemical weapons capability AND the ability to revive it at a moment's notice. Read the end links carefully (note the credible sources of each) and you will soon recognize that Saddam's capabilities were just as robust as ever. And remember that even a few liters of mustard gas or sarin, deployed carefully or given to terrorists, could have killed or maimed hundreds if not thousands.
However, that is not the main topic of this discussion. What I would like to point out is the strange disassociation between actual facts and the opinions formed prior and after those facts come to light.
There were large segments of the population that were opposed to the war. They had their reasons from pure pacifism to political posturing. And I recognize that they may use any one of those reasons or none at all. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion regardless of truth or facts or logic. But being against the war already, they seized upon the derth of chemical weapons as proof that Bush in fact LIED to get us into the war.
It would be helpful here to define exactly what a lie is and what it is not. If I stand up and say that the price of a loaf of bread in Rome is 10X the price in Bakersfield, I may or may not be wrong. Granted, I probably am wrong (not that uncommon an occurance) but even if I am, THAT IS NOT A LIE. Only if I knew what the average price of bread in Rome was and then deliberatly said differently would I have spoken a lie. Just being wrong carries no direct burden of evil or maliciousness. I would hazard a guess that almost every single one of you reading this has been wrong at one time or another. Except of course my dear wife who is my superior in every possible way.
So, "Bush Lied-" becomes "Bush listened to experts who, after careful consideration of the scant information available to them, determined a particular situation as highly probable which left little choice for the leader of a nation determined to prevent additional terrorist activities but to use force in conjunction with the other civilized nations of the world and under mandate of the United Nations to contain and destroy the ability of a highly unstable nation to perpetrate such activities either directly or through like-minded groups- People died".
The pejorative "lied" however rolls off the tongue much easier and gives the impression of some evil and nefarious purpose. I am sure that every one of you can remember the often deranged personal attacks upon Bush's character and humanity which followed.
Since then a large number of chemical weapons have in fact been found in Iraq. Gasses, liquids, delivery systems, shells, production facilities etc have all been located. Individually they may pose little threat but as a whole it shows that Saddam had had them (no one disputes that he used the damn things against the Iranians in their war as well as against the Kurds) and could use them again in a matter of hours. Some even present evidence that they were used against the US during the invasion, though I do not present any links because I could not discover any really credible sources.
The point is that even though the facts have generally vindicated Bush, he is still vilified and accused of lying, making him an accessory to mass murder and practically equal to Hitler.
This type of disconnect between reality and the perception-induced opinion which people maintain is often startling.
Recently in my hometown an Asian store owner shot and killed two Black men during a fight. It all began over the price of a soda. Now many hundreds of people are saying that it was downright murder over the price. But the facts are that the owner was in a physical confrontation with two men and had had enough. Did he have the right to kill them? I don't know, I wasn't there. Did his danger or fear of harm rise to the level at which the law justifies homicide? My first guess is no. One man had already left the store and then walked back in. There was no IMMEDIATE danger though it may have escalated quickly.
Yet was what he did murder?
Again I would say no. He did not go out looking for someone to kill. He did not plan to shot those two men. I suppose it is possible that he had decided to kill the next person who caused trouble in his store but the known facts do not yet bear that out.
So throwing around the word "murder" is incendiary and not warranted. Why are people screaming that most offensive of words? Because they are bringing in all of their own past experiences and perceptions about racial injustices. It is a generalization to be sure but it seems the crowd is simply convinced that that Asian man was so deeply racist that he wanted an excuse to kill Black men and no facts or fears can justify his actions. Just yesterday there was a call to close the store over the incident regardless of what happens legally. Here we see the absurdity of acting upon factless opinion. There are few stores servicing that area of town. Being the local market, the community depends upon it. Now members of that very community are agitating to punish the "murderer" and starve themselves at the very same time.
We see this type of intellectual poverty throughout our culture. Sweeping pronouncements are made about how "this group is trying to destroy our country" or "that group doesn't care about the poor". Rarely does anyone give concrete facts and logical analysis to justify their incriminations.
We have become a nation of name-callers and tale-tellers. A massive, seething, emotion driven collective of 4-year-olds who think everything belongs to them and anyone who disagrees must be a hateful poo-poo head.
I would give the lot of these screaming, inarticulate, selfish OWSers for one well-spoken person who could explain and defend their postion. The rest are just the rabble that historically are used for cannon-fodder and the guillotine.
Anyway, as I was saying, this epiphany has caused me to question and indeed understand the world around me in an entirely new light. Specifically, I now perceive that logic and rationality have very little to do with people's opinions. Perspective and pride are much larger determiners of how individuals view the world.
One specific case comes to mind. President George W. Bush lead the country in an invasion of Iraq based upon the recommendations of the Intelligence Community. He was told that Saddam had WMDs, in particular chemical weapons. His possessing such items was in violation of international law and UN declarations stemming from the first Gulf War. Now whether you agreed with GHW Bush's invasion or not is immaterial. It happened and Iraq was bound.
Going in everyone in a decision making role (including Hillary Clinton and ALL the other leading Democrats) accepted the CIA reports as factual. After hitting the ground though, our specialists were not able to find the massive stockpiles that everyone expected. Since that time the mantra, "Bush lied-People died" has become "fact".
I put scare quotes around that last word because as it turns out, Saddam DID have the remnants of a chemical weapons capability AND the ability to revive it at a moment's notice. Read the end links carefully (note the credible sources of each) and you will soon recognize that Saddam's capabilities were just as robust as ever. And remember that even a few liters of mustard gas or sarin, deployed carefully or given to terrorists, could have killed or maimed hundreds if not thousands.
However, that is not the main topic of this discussion. What I would like to point out is the strange disassociation between actual facts and the opinions formed prior and after those facts come to light.
There were large segments of the population that were opposed to the war. They had their reasons from pure pacifism to political posturing. And I recognize that they may use any one of those reasons or none at all. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion regardless of truth or facts or logic. But being against the war already, they seized upon the derth of chemical weapons as proof that Bush in fact LIED to get us into the war.
It would be helpful here to define exactly what a lie is and what it is not. If I stand up and say that the price of a loaf of bread in Rome is 10X the price in Bakersfield, I may or may not be wrong. Granted, I probably am wrong (not that uncommon an occurance) but even if I am, THAT IS NOT A LIE. Only if I knew what the average price of bread in Rome was and then deliberatly said differently would I have spoken a lie. Just being wrong carries no direct burden of evil or maliciousness. I would hazard a guess that almost every single one of you reading this has been wrong at one time or another. Except of course my dear wife who is my superior in every possible way.
So, "Bush Lied-" becomes "Bush listened to experts who, after careful consideration of the scant information available to them, determined a particular situation as highly probable which left little choice for the leader of a nation determined to prevent additional terrorist activities but to use force in conjunction with the other civilized nations of the world and under mandate of the United Nations to contain and destroy the ability of a highly unstable nation to perpetrate such activities either directly or through like-minded groups- People died".
The pejorative "lied" however rolls off the tongue much easier and gives the impression of some evil and nefarious purpose. I am sure that every one of you can remember the often deranged personal attacks upon Bush's character and humanity which followed.
Since then a large number of chemical weapons have in fact been found in Iraq. Gasses, liquids, delivery systems, shells, production facilities etc have all been located. Individually they may pose little threat but as a whole it shows that Saddam had had them (no one disputes that he used the damn things against the Iranians in their war as well as against the Kurds) and could use them again in a matter of hours. Some even present evidence that they were used against the US during the invasion, though I do not present any links because I could not discover any really credible sources.
The point is that even though the facts have generally vindicated Bush, he is still vilified and accused of lying, making him an accessory to mass murder and practically equal to Hitler.
This type of disconnect between reality and the perception-induced opinion which people maintain is often startling.
Recently in my hometown an Asian store owner shot and killed two Black men during a fight. It all began over the price of a soda. Now many hundreds of people are saying that it was downright murder over the price. But the facts are that the owner was in a physical confrontation with two men and had had enough. Did he have the right to kill them? I don't know, I wasn't there. Did his danger or fear of harm rise to the level at which the law justifies homicide? My first guess is no. One man had already left the store and then walked back in. There was no IMMEDIATE danger though it may have escalated quickly.
Yet was what he did murder?
Again I would say no. He did not go out looking for someone to kill. He did not plan to shot those two men. I suppose it is possible that he had decided to kill the next person who caused trouble in his store but the known facts do not yet bear that out.
So throwing around the word "murder" is incendiary and not warranted. Why are people screaming that most offensive of words? Because they are bringing in all of their own past experiences and perceptions about racial injustices. It is a generalization to be sure but it seems the crowd is simply convinced that that Asian man was so deeply racist that he wanted an excuse to kill Black men and no facts or fears can justify his actions. Just yesterday there was a call to close the store over the incident regardless of what happens legally. Here we see the absurdity of acting upon factless opinion. There are few stores servicing that area of town. Being the local market, the community depends upon it. Now members of that very community are agitating to punish the "murderer" and starve themselves at the very same time.
We see this type of intellectual poverty throughout our culture. Sweeping pronouncements are made about how "this group is trying to destroy our country" or "that group doesn't care about the poor". Rarely does anyone give concrete facts and logical analysis to justify their incriminations.
We have become a nation of name-callers and tale-tellers. A massive, seething, emotion driven collective of 4-year-olds who think everything belongs to them and anyone who disagrees must be a hateful poo-poo head.
I would give the lot of these screaming, inarticulate, selfish OWSers for one well-spoken person who could explain and defend their postion. The rest are just the rabble that historically are used for cannon-fodder and the guillotine.
news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/3386357.stm
www.un.org/depts/unmovic/new/.../s-2006-701-munitions.pdf (See #10 and 12 in particular)
Monday, November 7, 2011
Guten Tag
Guten Tag meine Deutsche Freunden. Brian (oder Bruno) hier. Es gibt mir grosse Heiterkeit dass Sie meine Geschichte Der gekrönter Gast geniessen. Ich habe es gern und glaube es ist eine gute Maerchen. Jedoch, warum lieben Sie est so viel?
Fast jeder lesener von Deutschland hat diesen Geschischte sehen. Ist est ein ungewoehnlich Gleichnis im Deutchen Kulture?
Bitte, werden Sie erklaeren es zu mir?
Vielen Dank
Bruno
P.S. Ich hatte vier Jahre in Hoechschule Deutsch gelehrnt und auch zwei monaten im DDR gelebt. Also, dass war drei und zwanzig vor jahren und jetzt mein Deutsch ist ganz schlecht. Ich musste ein On-Line-Übersetzer verwendet gahabt. Wenn Sie im English schreiben koenen Ich werde ganz dankbar sein.
-B
Fast jeder lesener von Deutschland hat diesen Geschischte sehen. Ist est ein ungewoehnlich Gleichnis im Deutchen Kulture?
Bitte, werden Sie erklaeren es zu mir?
Vielen Dank
Bruno
P.S. Ich hatte vier Jahre in Hoechschule Deutsch gelehrnt und auch zwei monaten im DDR gelebt. Also, dass war drei und zwanzig vor jahren und jetzt mein Deutsch ist ganz schlecht. Ich musste ein On-Line-Übersetzer verwendet gahabt. Wenn Sie im English schreiben koenen Ich werde ganz dankbar sein.
-B
Friday, November 4, 2011
Ramblin...2
There comes a moment in most men's lives when they have to face head-on the terrors of middle-age. I have neither lost my hair nor begun to have issues with my...uh...that thing that is supposed to stick in your head and bring back ideas that you've had but are not foremost...memory! Yea, that's it. I'm not losing my memory or anything of that sort.
What I have done is pick up a huge spare tire. Just a couple months ago I had to shop at the Big and Tall store for a pair of dress pants. 44" waist by 34" leg. They just don't offer that size material outside of Abdul's Tent Shop.
It really is quite pathetic. Like Fat B****** from the Austin Powers movie, I can't see past my belly button. Putting on shoes requires me to hold in enough breath to qualify me as a pearl diver in Okinawa!
My kids pat me on the tummy and say, "Rub da' Buddah Belly for luck". Yesterday I bounced off the doorway going into the kitchen and the rebounding fat threw me so far off balance that I bounced down the hallway and into the bathroom where I lay jiggling for several minutes.
I had to install a monster truck tire on the left front of my car just to keep the frame from scrapeing as I drive. When I lay on the couch with some snacks I don't have my own table so much as my own buffet!
So what am I going to do about it? I could go back to my Kung Fu class and get some real exercise. But that would mean buying a size 12 gi, which again I would have to go see Abdul about. Not to mention the endless mockery of my close and well-meaning friends. Usually
No, in the time honored way of most people who set out to lose some weight, I tossed my cookies. And my candy, cakes, ice cream, chips, sodas and...p...p...pizza. Waaaaaahhhhhhh!!!!!
The family went to Costco last night for shopping and dinner. While they all gorged on that delectible greasy pizza pie, I ate a caeser salad without dressing. I HATE ALL OF THEM.
Today at work I emptied my snack drawer and was amazed at the varitey of sugared goodness I had accumulated. Peanutbutter cups and rice crispy treats being the drug de jour.
So if you find I am being exceptionally rude, short tempered, manic, listless, frantic, lost or any other character trait that is not normally in my sweet and kind disposition, then just know I am trying to better my health. And if I have to suffer, then so do all of you.
What I have done is pick up a huge spare tire. Just a couple months ago I had to shop at the Big and Tall store for a pair of dress pants. 44" waist by 34" leg. They just don't offer that size material outside of Abdul's Tent Shop.
It really is quite pathetic. Like Fat B****** from the Austin Powers movie, I can't see past my belly button. Putting on shoes requires me to hold in enough breath to qualify me as a pearl diver in Okinawa!
My kids pat me on the tummy and say, "Rub da' Buddah Belly for luck". Yesterday I bounced off the doorway going into the kitchen and the rebounding fat threw me so far off balance that I bounced down the hallway and into the bathroom where I lay jiggling for several minutes.
I had to install a monster truck tire on the left front of my car just to keep the frame from scrapeing as I drive. When I lay on the couch with some snacks I don't have my own table so much as my own buffet!
So what am I going to do about it? I could go back to my Kung Fu class and get some real exercise. But that would mean buying a size 12 gi, which again I would have to go see Abdul about. Not to mention the endless mockery of my close and well-meaning friends. Usually
No, in the time honored way of most people who set out to lose some weight, I tossed my cookies. And my candy, cakes, ice cream, chips, sodas and...p...p...pizza. Waaaaaahhhhhhh!!!!!
The family went to Costco last night for shopping and dinner. While they all gorged on that delectible greasy pizza pie, I ate a caeser salad without dressing. I HATE ALL OF THEM.
Today at work I emptied my snack drawer and was amazed at the varitey of sugared goodness I had accumulated. Peanutbutter cups and rice crispy treats being the drug de jour.
So if you find I am being exceptionally rude, short tempered, manic, listless, frantic, lost or any other character trait that is not normally in my sweet and kind disposition, then just know I am trying to better my health. And if I have to suffer, then so do all of you.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
I had a Dream...1
I had the oddest dream this morning. It startled me so much that I awoke at 4:30 am and could not go back to sleep.
Picture if you will a gentle countryside, such as one might find in the more picturesque areas of Georgia or West Virginia. It was lightly wooded with a well established dirt road leading to a parking glade between an old worn-out house and a large clapboard church. I was observing the scene from somewhere above and remote you might say. As if I were looking in through a window in the sky.
Down below were a fair number of teen-agers all in stereotypical 50's clothes and driving an assortment of period cars. I noticed the turquoise '57 Chevy convertable immediatly.
The kids were all drawn to the house which, I had just become aware of, was engulfed in flames. Rather than calling for help or dousing the flagration, they were dancing and celebrating wildly. One youth in particular was foremost in the pandemonium.
He stood at least 7 foot tall with a ruddy complexion, clear blue eyes, close-cropped blond hair and the face of Owen Wilson. He kept screaming something to the effect of, "Now you know what I'm about! I'm Martin Harrison!"
Now I am completely unaware of anyone famous named Martin Harrison. This was all the more perplexing because I simply knew, in the way we "know" things in our dreams, that this was Martin Van Buren the President in his youth. Nevermind that van Buren died in 1862. For the purposes of my overwrought brain he was an 18 year-old semi-giant in 1958.
Suddenly the kids began to scatter. There was no sign of wildfire or the scream of approaching police. Ten or so of them rushed into the Church, including the ringleader. My perspective followed them right up to the door where Martin "Owen Wilson-Martin van Buren" Harrison hollered into my face, "I'm Martin Harrison!!!!" and quickly slammed the door.
If anyone would care to interpret my dream, they may forward their analysis to Peaceful Brook Sanitarium and Secure Facility, where I will be taking a Sabbatical of, as yet, undetermined duration.
Picture if you will a gentle countryside, such as one might find in the more picturesque areas of Georgia or West Virginia. It was lightly wooded with a well established dirt road leading to a parking glade between an old worn-out house and a large clapboard church. I was observing the scene from somewhere above and remote you might say. As if I were looking in through a window in the sky.
Down below were a fair number of teen-agers all in stereotypical 50's clothes and driving an assortment of period cars. I noticed the turquoise '57 Chevy convertable immediatly.
The kids were all drawn to the house which, I had just become aware of, was engulfed in flames. Rather than calling for help or dousing the flagration, they were dancing and celebrating wildly. One youth in particular was foremost in the pandemonium.
He stood at least 7 foot tall with a ruddy complexion, clear blue eyes, close-cropped blond hair and the face of Owen Wilson. He kept screaming something to the effect of, "Now you know what I'm about! I'm Martin Harrison!"
Now I am completely unaware of anyone famous named Martin Harrison. This was all the more perplexing because I simply knew, in the way we "know" things in our dreams, that this was Martin Van Buren the President in his youth. Nevermind that van Buren died in 1862. For the purposes of my overwrought brain he was an 18 year-old semi-giant in 1958.
Suddenly the kids began to scatter. There was no sign of wildfire or the scream of approaching police. Ten or so of them rushed into the Church, including the ringleader. My perspective followed them right up to the door where Martin "Owen Wilson-Martin van Buren" Harrison hollered into my face, "I'm Martin Harrison!!!!" and quickly slammed the door.
If anyone would care to interpret my dream, they may forward their analysis to Peaceful Brook Sanitarium and Secure Facility, where I will be taking a Sabbatical of, as yet, undetermined duration.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Ramblin' 1
So I woke up this morning with dreams of half-priced halloween candy at Wal-Mart dancing in my head. After a night of pizza and candy I had just a mite of trouble fitting my 44" waist into 40" jeans but applying liberal amounts of axel grease and breathing in they fit like a sausage casing. Out the door and down the road to the land of Low Priced Goodness. Oh how I longed for those KitKats, Mounds bars and ever elusive bat-shaped Hersey's peanutbutter cups. I walked into the store and found that Halloween still lingered in the dark recesses of Sam Walton's empire. Horror upon horrors, not only was the candy NOT half-priced but had gone up! Bags printed at $3.49 were now tagged at $3.99!!! What demonic soul had decided to dash the hopes of such a poor innocent chocophile as myself? Was there no mercy? Was there no compassion? Feeling like a child given a toothbrush in his trick-or-treat bag, I shuffled my way out the door, vowing to never step foot inside that House of Horrors again. Even now I feel the deep pangs of lost hope, dashed dreams and despair.
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