A Nerd's Country Journal

So Long, And Thanks For All The Fish

2007-11-12T14:03:00.000-06:00

I'll not be posting to this blog for the foreseeable future, if ever. I hope you enjoy the archives, accessible over there in the right hand column. I'm particularly proud of the "humor", but I think (hope?) each category has a few worth reading.

As to why ... well, in a world with millions of blogs on every conceivable subject, I don't think I have anything more of substance to add. This blog has served its purpose, allowing me the chance to improve my writing skills and to work through changing from being a city nerd to a country bumpkin. Now that the adjustment is mostly over, it's time to get on with actually living.

All the best and thanks for the support,

Jeff

Roadnapping

2007-11-06T20:01:00.000-06:00

I bet this is something you rarely find in the city -- our neighbor kidnapped a road.

If you use Google Maps to find our place, it shows Nordic Ridge Road hitting County Road 252. Which is odd, since if you actually drive on CR252, all you see at that supposed intersection is our neighbor's gate. I thought that was strange, until I finally realized that our neighbor simply gated off most of the road and declared it his driveway.

I used to think if you nailed something down it couldn't be stolen, but I never figured on how big cajones are in Nerd Country.

The Department of Too Many Departments Department

2007-10-30T08:36:00.001-05:00

Via Radley Balko, I've just learned that the state of Texas has spent 18 months to publish a 668-page report finding that the state of Texas ... issues too many reports.

The article doesn't mention if the report came from the Department of Redundancy Department, but it wouldn't surprise me.

The best part? Despite the report's finding, its issuers assure their paymasters that continuing to report on the excess of reports is vital:

As for the commission's massive report on reports, Heskett predicts it won't go away.

"For the report to be effective, it must be ongoing," he said.

I'm pretty sure that the part of state records administrator Michael Heskett is actually being played by the Red Queen from Alice in Wonderland, but I'll certainly issue a report once I'm positive.

My Alma Mater and 15 Laterals!

2007-10-29T14:24:00.000-05:00

My alma mater, Trinity University in San Antonio, made ESPN with a "Top Play" highlight featuring their 61-yard, 15-lateral play at the end of regulation that scored a touchdown and won the game against Millsaps. Pretty amazing stuff, and to think that when I went there we almost never won a game!

Professional Sports Designer Does Good

2007-10-25T10:21:00.000-05:00

My friend John Hartwell had the rare and incredibly cool privilege yesterday of seeing his designs literally take the field for a real live professional baseball team, as his new logo debuted in Birmingham for the Double-A Barons. Their home page features his new design boldly, which is definitely wise because it kicks ass. Here's the press conference where the new design was introduced, with a poster showing the various elements:

And here are the actual uniforms on actual players.

It's one thing to draw something out on paper, but it's a whole new level of awesome to see what you've created take life for real. My friends and I are all sports fans, and to see something one of us designed take the actual field is just cool beyond words.

Congratulations to John and the Birmingham Barons, I hope this is just the first of many sports-related projects to come!

Calvin and Hobbes Halloween

2007-10-23T07:59:00.001-05:00

Since I post so many Calvin and Hobbes strips here, I though I should show you this photo of a real-life Halloween version of Calvin's "Snowmen of Horror" displays.

Another Failure

2007-10-22T19:02:00.001-05:00

Great, here's yet another way in which my World of Warcraft character is superior to me:

If that's not clear, it says "Tip: Your character can eat and drink at the same time." At the same time! I know I can't handle a crossbow like he can, but now this? How many more ways can I be inferior to that stupid digital guy?!

Catholics Against Torture

2007-10-22T17:34:00.000-05:00

As Andrew says, we've heard plenty from the left about why torture is a bad idea, but very little from the right. This post from "Catholic and Enjoying It" is therefore a welcome change, and really made me think about the issue in a new way. Here's a brief excerpt:

What lies at the heart of all consequentialist appeals to do grave evil for the greater good is, ultimately, a refusal to trust that God knows what he is talking about. It is the conviction that the Christian revelation is not an insight into the heart of reality, but a sort of idealistic dream that is fun to contemplate in quiet moments and maybe even an "inspiration" in a vague way, but is nonetheless something that hard thinkers and tough-minded men must sweep away when crunch time comes in favor of "realistic" solutions that require us to frankly embrace sin and evil if we hope to live or remain free. In this analysis, the functional belief of the Machiavellian realist is "You shall embrace evil, and evil shall make you free and keep you safe."

The argument of the Christian revelation is that this is, not to put too fine a point on it, a lie from the pit of hell.

I remain confused as to why American Christianity and the Republican party have become synonymous on issues like torture, war, poverty, health care, and race relations. There is ample support for what Americans would consider liberal positions on these problems, and yet it is as if such a thing is unthinkable in the public discourse.

If I haven't made it clear on this blog before, I think torture is evil. I think it is wrong. I think it is useless, misguided, dangerous, and corrupting to the torturer. It is to be avoided at nearly all costs, and I am deeply appalled that our nation has joined the despicable ranks of those regimes that routinely employ it. I know there are those among the religious who feel the same way, and I am delighted that finally, at long last, their voices are getting heard.

Jesus on the River (and I Don't Mean Chris Ferguson)

2007-10-09T21:33:00.001-05:00

I may not be a Christian, but I just saw a stomach-turning spectacle of blasphemy and hypocrisy on ESPN's first night of coverage of the 2007 World Series of Poker that really offended me.

The hand featured seasoned professional Lee Watkinson's A-7 off-suit against poker neophyte and chipleader Jerry Yang's A-9 off-suit. Lee went all in and was called, putting his tournament (and a shot at more than eight million dollars) on the line.

Whereupon both parties proceeded to spit on the teachings of Jesus.

Watkinson, to his credit, handled it like a pro and was silent throughout the hand, but you can't say the same thing for his fiancée, Timmi deRosa, who jumped up and shouted "No weapon formed against him shall prosper!" If that sounds like a Bible verse, you're right -- it's Isaiah 54:17, which is all about God telling Israel how great they're going to have it from there on out. She then followed that up with "Come on, Father! In Jesus' name, No weapon formed against thee shall prosper!" With arms raised above her head, this woman was shouting for God, in Jesus' name, to let her husband win a gambling confrontation so he could bring home millions of dollars.

In Jesus' name. Yes, that Jesus, the one who said "If thou wilt be perfect, go sell what thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven." The one who said, "And it came to pass that the beggar died and was carried by the angels into Abraham's bosom. And the rich man also died: and he was buried in Hell." Sounds like a guy anxious to get all his money in pre-flop with the best hand, right?

I thought that was fairly appalling, but then Jerry Yang got his turn. "Come on Lord," he said, "you know your purpose for me. Have a purpose for me."

Apparently God's purpose for Jerry was to have his opponent dominated with a better kicker for his ace. I didn't know the Almighty went in for bad all-in raises with a Ace-rags, but apparently He does.

Not to be outdone, the fiancée again cried out. "Make him a believer! Make Lee a believer, Father!" So apparently Lee's not "of the faith" and this woman thinks that giving him a cash reward will get him to become a Christian. Sort of like a "Bonus Miles" program, I suppose.

The irony of having the soul of a non-believer hanging in the balance over a poker game for eight million dollars was lost on all concerned. Apparently poverty is only for those loser Christians who actually, you know, bother reading what Jesus said. Why do I have the feeling this lady is a follower of one or another of the "Prosperity Gospel" cults?

Jerry got the last word, though. "Father, in the name of Jesus," he said quietly, voice almost vibrating with intensity, "LET ME WIN!"

I'm sure both Jerry and Ms. deRosa are wonderfully nice people. I'm sure they feel quite devoted to their faith, and do what they can to follow the teachings of Christ. But they're both exhibiting the most crass kind of hypocrisy and -- yes, I'll say it -- blasphemy I can imagine.

This was the perfect example of that uniquely American abomination that weds greedy materialism with the teachings of Christ. I've seldom seen a case where Las Vegas' nickname of "Sin City" was more appropriate.

Look, I don't believe Christ is the Son of God, but I do think he had some incredibly wise teachings. To hear someone, much less two someones, completely distort those teachings to mean their exact opposite really made me angry. It would be like someone invoking Martin Luther King's speeches to justify the shooting of Black people, or Thomas Jefferson's letters to explain why we need to form a theocracy. It's just wrong, and it made me sick.

That was a disgraceful display, and both Jerry Yang and Timmi deRosa should be ashamed.

Things I Hate About Chris Berman

2007-10-08T20:43:00.000-05:00

Here is a partial list of the things I hate about ESPN sportscaster Chris Berman. And I'm skipping the obvious things, like his incessant usage of inane nicknames for not only every single player on the planet, but some species of African bush weasels as well.

The overly broad gestures that punctuate every single syllable he utters. I fully expect him to knock a colleague unconscious some day with an exaggerated arm swing. Particularly egregious: the "Pseud-OK", the aborted love-child of "I missed it by that much" and Gumby's "O-TAY!".

The sport jacket with a short-sleeve shirt underneath. What is he, twelve? With every overly broad gesture you see his hairy arms all the way up to his elbows. It is my dream that he will accidentally crush his own larynx during a broadcast while gesticulating, and die for lack of a shirt sleeve with which to stanch the bleeding.

"BACK BACK BACK BACK BACK BACK BACK ... ((twenty minutes later)) ... BACK BACK BACK BACK ..."

"WHOOP!", particularly when used at completely inappropriate times. I have visions of this abominable noise issuing forth from a bathroom stall in Bristol about an hour after lunch every day.

The combover. Let it go, man, because trust me -- it's gone.

The stupefied look on his face during every NFL Sunday Shoutathon And Screaming Death Match show, when one of his idiotic on-screen comrades finishes speaking and tosses it back to him to move along to the next topic. Pick up the ball, Berman, it's your turn to do something!

He's still on ESPN, and Keith Olbermann is not. There is no justice in the world.

Near Death Experience

2007-10-06T19:38:00.000-05:00

I almost died Thursday night.

I pulled out of the narrow street in the hills overlooking Lake Buchanon at about 11:00. The road was under construction, with two lanes torn down to chunky base rock, though you certainly couldn't see it with the almost-new moon throwing more darkness than light.

I was frustrated at having lost at yet another poker session and ready to be home. But there was still a forty minute drive ahead of me and I wanted it over. I spun some gravel as I drove onto the road, punching my little Ranger as fast as it would go. I had it up to sixty within moments, listening to the sound of loose rocks pinging on the undercarriage.

As more seconds went by and my sight started adjusting to the darkness surrounding my headlights, the truck started to shake violently.

And I realized I was on the wrong half of the road, on the two lanes closed down for construction.

The truck skewed violently to the right and I released the gas pedal, trying to pull it back to the left without overcompensating. My mind snapped out of its anger instantly, replacing frustration with one crystal-clear thought:

I could die here.

I remember it so clearly, that thought. The road wound in and out of the Texas hill country limestone, crossing over ravines and surrounded by cedar trees. At that time of night I could have plunged over the side and it would have been hours, at least, before anyone would notice, and that only with a careful search.

The truck skewed back to the left and fishtailed, the rear end going one way and the front end the other. In the headlights I could see the small warning placards in front of one of the bridges, just before a major curve.

I need to stop this before I hit that bridge, or I'm dead.

Again the thought stood there alone in my mind, outlined in silver and almost throbbing in its insistence. Press the brakes, but not too violently, pull the steering wheel back in line with the direction of the rear end, don't panic whatever you do. You could die, you could die you could die ...

An image of Annie crying hysterically flashed through my mind, me dead along the jumbled rocks of the hill, or plunging into the waters of the lake and drowning, bleeding out into the creek.

My entire life did not flash before my eyes. I did not beg for mercy, or in my best Carrie Underwood voice plead for Jesus to take the wheel. I had room for only three things: My death, my wife, and how to stop my truck.

I finally shuddered to a halt short of the bridge, breath pounding in and out of my lungs. "Holy shit." I said it aloud. Again. "Holy shit."

I put the car in park and just sat there for a moment, until I felt composed enough to pull back onto the road. The finished road, this time.

As I drove I thought about what had almost happened to me, how many years I still want to live, how precious existence is, how much I love my wife and my life and how I do not want it to be over.

And yet, I thought, not once did I cry out for a higher power. Not once did it even occur to me that a deity might be watching over me, guiding my path, to whom I should beg for mercy.

Believers will tell me that regardless, God was watching out for me, and that is why I am here, today, right now, typing this and enjoying the feeling of being alive. For all I know, they're right.

What struck me, though, is that I don't even have the instinct for God. I like to think I'm rational and thoughtful and have arrived at my belief system after careful consideration and relentless logic. And I have, in a sense, but I think all of that is a superstructure over what was already there, or already not there, in this case.

Whatever belief is, however it's supposed to exist as a part of one's innermost being, I just don't have it. I never have. Exhortations to "just believe" are as wasted on me as "Just see!" is to the blind. I used to think, "I don't believe in God," but the truth is that this isn't a choice. I didn't just decide one day that I don't believe -- it's just not present in me. At all. I couldn't change it any more than I could make myself hear if I were deaf, no matter how great the effort.

I say this not as any sort of argument either for or against religion, or faith, or God, or much of anything beyond this:

In that moment, when I was sure I could really, truly die, the part of me that exists before rationality reached not for the divine, but for the brake pedal.

That's just the way I am built, and if there truly is a merciful God as so many would have me believe, then He is the one who made me this way.

I'm glad I am alive, glad I am here to write this, glad that I know, finally, that what I believe is not a bit of sophistry or an angry response or willful defiance, but simply the way I'm put together.

I don't have any god-belief present in me, and that's ok. I've got a good life, and more importantly, a good set of brakes. For now, that's enough, and I am content.

GoogleCreation?

2007-10-01T08:25:00.001-05:00

Imagine if every article in "Science" or "Discover" had a blurb on it saying something like "Everything you're reading here is false. Go to this site to see how Scientologists have it right and we're all really alien slaves."

Actually I doubt you'd care because, let's face it, like most people you probably don't subscribe to either "Science" or "Discover". But I bet you do read CNN.com or MSNBC.com or FOXNews.com, and that's basically what's happening on those sites, only with Biblical Creationism instead of Scientology.

Here's how it works.

A big, credible site like CNN.com puts code on their web page articles to serve up ads brokered by Google. Google scans each article as it's delivered to your web browser, does some GoogleMagic, and figures out what the page is about. In this CNN science article about finding good DNA in mammoth hairs, for instance, it finds great words like DNA, scientists, and biochemistry. "Aha!" thinks Google, "this page is about science and evolution!"

Meanwhile, creationists sites out there are also using Google, only they want to buy ads. Their audience is the layperson somewhat interested in science, who they hope to sway to their way of thinking (e.g. the universe is only 6,000 years old, Noah's Flood happened just as described in Genesis, etc.), so they go out and tell Google, "put our ads on any page that has these words in it -- DNA, science, scientists, archaeology, and that sort of thing."

GoogleMagic isn't, of course, actually magic; it's just a computer program that tries to match up an article like the one on CNN with an advertiser. The beauty of GoogleAds is that you can be very targeted and only have your ad shown on a page that's probably going to be of interest to your likely customer. If you sell used drill bits, for instance, you probably don't want your ad shown on a page that is about baking cookies.

Thus Google sees a CNN article about DNA, and puts up the creationist ads on it. CNN is "The Most Trusted Name in News", so Joe or Jane Average gives credence to what they publish. They're reading an article written by the AP, another trusted source, which contains excellent, scientifically valid information. They get to the bottom of the page, and see ads for sites that seem to also be about evolution and science, and so they click on it:

And voila, the credibility and reliability of CNN and the Associated Press and all those scientists in the original story get carried through to the creationist site.

There's nothing immoral or illegal about what the creationists are doing here. They have every right to purchase ad words from Google and to try and reach their target audience.

The problem is that they're gaining legitimacy from sources that would otherwise completely undermine everything they say.

I'd love to see groups like the National Center for Science Education put a small part of their budget to countering this tactic. Bid up those same Google AdWords at a slightly higher price so the creationist ads don't get served. Be aggressive and target other words like "creationism", "bible science", "genesis facts", and more to try and get some well-intentioned but misinformed browsers good, accurate, reliable information about science and history.

This isn't about atheism or faith, it's about good science education. You can have a good understanding of real science and still be a Christian, as millions around the world show every day. Having a majority of people in America misunderstand basic scientific concepts is bad for a democratic nation. We can't make good policy or execute sound judgment when our knowledge is built on a foundation of lies.

Watching The Watchmen

2007-09-29T16:10:00.000-05:00

This likely won't mean anything to you non-geeks out there, but the latest super-hero comic book to be slated for production as a movie is DC's "The Watchmen", which has my nerd-ometer all a-twitter.

The original 12-issue mini-series was later collected as a graphic novel, and won Science Fiction's highest honor, the Hugo Award. It was also named by Time Magazine as one of the “100 Best English Language Novels from 1923 to the Present.”

I have to admit I'm a little skeptical that this can be turned into a good movie. The original is so dense, you have to read it four or five times before you really catch everything that's going on. It's a complex, multi-layered work of art, with a crazy number of different plot points, complicated characters, and varied levels of meaning. I don't know how well you can translate all of that into one movie.

Plus, there's just something fundamentally ... well, silly about people dressing up in costumes and fighting crime. The novel addresses this directly and uses it as a major background theme, and it works as told in a comics format. Dave Gibbons' artwork was the perfect blend of realistic and fantastic. But in a movie, you can't get away from the fact that these are real human beings running around up there in tights.

With a franchise like Spider-Man or Superman, it works because they're basically adventure stories. But "The Watchmen" isn't like that. Dare I say it, it's basically a psychological, political thriller. It just happens to feature people in costumes.

It's going to be a real challenge to pull off. It certainly has the potential to be a great production, but only if it's done right, with deliberation and insight. The fact that it's being directed by the guy who did "300" doesn't fill me with confidence -- that was about as two dimensional a script as you can get.

I'll be watching the movie site with interest as production rolls along. I really, really hope it turns out well. Along with "The Dark Knight", "The Watchmen" was largely responsible for launching the more serious, higher-quality, adult-oriented revival of the comic book industry in the 80's. I'd like to see it do the same for comic-book movies.

Maybe Cingular Should Start With the Goat Sacrificing

2007-09-25T20:42:00.000-05:00

Remember all those times the flight attendant came on and told you to turn off all electronic devices because they might endanger your flight? Apparently they're full of crap:

Air traffic controllers were forced to use their personal cell phones to reroute hundreds of flights Tuesday after the Federal Aviation Administration's Memphis Center lost radar and telephone service for more than two hours, snarling air traffic in the middle of the nation.

That's right, your Razor might crash that Southwest Airlines junket to Vegas, but it's ok for air traffic controllers in Memphis to coordinate all the flights at the entire airport via Cingular Wireless for two hours with no problems.

You know, there was a story a while back about Nepal Airlines sacrificing a goat to ensure their one plane made the next flight successfully, and everyone laughed at them. At least, everyone not in Nepal -- you don't want to mock the guys who might be dropping unused goat parts on your head as they fly overhead.

But I think our own good-old-fashioned American flight system is no less full of hooey and woo. No electronic devices during takeoff and landing. No liquids allowed on board. Confiscating corkscrews, for goodness' sake. The fact that none of this does any good at all makes no difference.

I think next time I fly I'm going to use a cooler full of cabrito as one of my carry-on items. It ought to do about as much good as most of the other "safety measures" we're subjected to, and unlike cell phones, it makes for a great taco.

Ride the Slut!

2007-09-21T07:22:00.000-05:00

The Seattle neighborhood of South Lake Union has a new trolley, which means it's the South Lake Union Trolley. Or "SLUT" for short. An enterprising store in the area already has shirts for sale reading "Ride the SLUT!" which are selling like mad. No word yet on whether they'll also be staging a production of "A Streetcar Named Desire".

I might have to plan a trip to Seattle. It's been far too long since I experienced the high-speed thrill of riding a slut.

P.S. I'll be out of town till Sunday at my nephew's wedding in Houston. How to differentiate this interval from my normal glacial posting place is an exercise left to the reader.

The Wheel of Time Stops Turning

2007-09-17T16:15:00.000-05:00

Photo by Liza Trombi

Fantasy novelist James Oliver Rigney Jr. (aka Robert Jordan), author of the massively popular "Wheel of Time" series, died today in Charleston, South Carolina, of complications from primary amyloidosis with cardiomyopathy, according to MSNBC.com.

Having read most of his fantasy series and a number of personal posts Mr. Jordan has made available online, he seemed to be a good man and certainly his writing brought joy to millions around the world. I think it's fair to say that he was a major figure in the genre and that his death will have a serious impact on the sci-fi/fantasy publishing industry.

My feelings about the books themselves are more mixed. I enjoyed the series at first, but after the first three books it seemed to grow heavy under the burden of its own seriousness. Events that could have taken place in a chapter were stretched out over several thousand pages. Too many characters plagued the plot, without seeming to advance the story at all. The same plot points kept coming up over and over to the same characters, and for a while there it seemed like literally nothing had happened over the course of three books.

Ultimately, I'd have to say the series was a victim of its own success. When an author (or musician or athlete or director or what have you) gets too big, everyone starts being afraid to tell them "no". They're given license to do whatever they like and no one has the courage to actually edit them, to say "Gosh, Bob, this sucks."

And I think that's too bad. Because clearly these guys have some talent, or they wouldn't have been successful in the first place.

In a way, we betray people like Mr. Jordan when we become too intimidated to express our opinions honestly, when no one will tell them what's good and what's bad become overshadowed by expectation and hubris.

I do feel saddened by the loss of Robert Jordan, even if my opinion of "The Wheel of Time" have become negative over the years. He worked hard, he treated the genre with respect, and he inspired thousands of people with his words. That's an impressive legacy for anyone to claim.

Better Iron Man Trailer

2007-09-15T08:17:00.000-05:00

I posted a bad, user-shot Iron Man trailer a while back. The official version of it is now available, though, so go check it out! This actually looks like a pretty good movie, I'll definitely be going to see it.

Good Advice

2007-09-12T08:33:00.000-05:00

Both of the two best pieces of advice I've ever gotten came from my brother Joey. To wit:

The opinions of worthless people are worthless.

And:

Marriage isn't fifty-fifty. It's one hundred-one hundred.

When my father and mother split up and Dad moved to Lake Charles for a while (before they got back together then split up again and got back together again and ... ), Joey was pretty much the man of the house. He took great care of us all. I remember that time as one of the few stretches where the house felt at peace, where I wasn't always walking on eggshells and waiting for the next explosion.

That didn't last, of course, but the simple and profound lessons my brother taught us did. Take care of your family. Shed the worthless opinions of those unworthy of judging you. Give it everything you've got.

It's the basic stuff that endures. I know it wasn't easy for him to take up the burden of responsibility at his age, but he did it and did it well.

So I want to say thank you to Joey, and to all those like him who carry the rest of us forward. You give it a hundred percent and inspire us to do the same. I hope we don't fail you.

Underoos

2007-09-11T09:03:00.000-05:00

I am 38 years old and am currently wearing Spider-Man underwear.

It's a good thing I'm already married, because there's no way I'm date-able material.

Silence

2007-09-07T21:17:00.001-05:00

I haven't been posting lately because I'm looking into some health issues (both physical and mental) and haven't been in the right frame of mind to interact with anyone, much less write anything. I hope that the cycle will swing back into a better place in the next few days, and I'll be settled enough to open up again.

I find it annoying how much we are at the mercy of our biology. Isn't it time we invented robots into which we can upload our personalities and minds already? Someone needs to get on the ball.

I say, until we have immortal, indestructible, incorruptible robot surrogate bodies and FLYING CARS ALREADY!!, we just give the finger to the entire technological complex.

Carnival of the Godless Redirect

2007-09-02T08:30:00.000-05:00

Between the time I volunteered to host "The Carnival of the Godless #74" and now, I had decided to move the atheist content of Nerd Country to my other (new) site, "Atheist FAQs". So those of you coming here for the latest edition of The Carnival of the Godless, it can be found right now, hot off the Internet presses, at AtheistFAQ.com!

Anyone else who doesn't know what a "Carnival of the Godless" is, or who wants to know why it's not actually at this address today as advertised, read more below. Otherwise, get thee to the Carnival, post-haste!

First off, I should warn you that I chose to assemble and present the Carnival as if it were from a 1930's era "Doc Savage" type of supernatural pulp adventure novel. I hope you don't find it too distracting, and that the links are still easy enough to navigate. It was a hoot putting it together like that.

For my two regular readers, a Blog Carnival is a "Best of the Week" type of collection that gathers good blog posts from around the Internet on a particular theme, putting them all in one place so those interested in that topic have a good set of links to visit. This particular Carnival is about issues of interest to atheists, hence the name "Carnival of the Godless". There are lots of other Carnivals out there, like the Carnival of Cinema, The Catholic Carnival, or The Skeptics' Circle just to name a few.

You should be warned that some of the blog entries featured in the Carnival of the Godless (CotG) are pretty hostile to religion and religious adherents. Such is the nature of the world; I prefer to be more non-confrontational, but I don't think it's a bad thing sometimes for people to get in each others' faces, either. I have a different style, but the other way can work, and work very well, also. To each their own.

All that's by way of saying that if you're a theist, there are a few posts in the CotG this time around that might piss you off. So be warned.

One more time, Carnival of the Godless #74 is now available on AtheistFAQ.com.

Texas Constitution Bans Atheists From Office

2007-08-30T07:40:00.000-05:00

Did you know that it is unconstitutional for me to hold a public office in the state of Texas? Article 1, Section 4 of the Texas Constitution states:

No religious test shall ever be required as a qualification to any office, or public trust, in this State; nor shall any one be excluded from holding office on account of his religious sentiments, provided he acknowledge the existence of a Supreme Being.

Not that I was planning on running for Governor any time soon, but still, I'd have liked to think that I could in theory give something back to my state in the form of public service.

Guess not.

This is the kind of thing that made me "come out". Prejudice against people without a belief in god is enshrined in the actual constitution of the state I inhabit.

Think about that for a moment.

A child molester could hold office here. Or an admitted terrorist. Or a serial murderer. All of them are in theory qualified to hold the public trust, as long as they were Catholic, or Southern Baptist, or Hindu, or what have you.

But not me.

P.S. I better stay the hell out of Arkansas, South Carolina, and Tennessee, too.

(Hat tip to Holly Orr for the link.)

Senatorial Bathroom Power Stance

2007-08-27T20:37:00.000-05:00

At the risk of turning this into a potty-themed blog, I just can't let this story about US Senator Larry Craig's (R-Idaho) arrest for lewd behavior in an airport restroom go without comment:

Craig stated "that he has a wide stance when going to the bathroom and that his foot may have touched mine," the report states. Craig also told the arresting officer that he reached down with his right hand to pick up a piece of paper that was on the floor.

I've been in a number of public restroom stalls in my 38 years, but I can't ever recall being in such dire gastric distress that I would need to take a stance while seated so wide that my foot was at any risk of touching the foot of the gentleman in the next stall. All I can say is, if you need to take a stance that wide, you'd better be in the handicapped stall, because you're going to need to grip those handlebars for leverage.

What really disturbs me is that you have to touch feet to signal you want to do something naughty. Frankly, I think foot-on-foot intimate contact is just wrong, and ought to be illegal pretty much anywhere. If feet weren't meant to be gross, they'd not have evolved to be waaaaaaay down there at the opposite end of our bodies from all our sense organs. They're stuck on the end of the legs for a reason -- they're nasty!

On a more serious note, I have a hard time understanding what was illegal about this episode. He didn't actually solicit any sort of illegal contact, he just exhibited some behaviors typical of people who would. And though as I noted, he lied about why he did those things -- the grip and the "I was just picking up a piece of paper" -- that's all after the fact. It seems like you'd have to prove he intended to solicit illegal behavior, and I don't see how you could do that in this case.

I understand the desire to keep lewd acts out of public restrooms, but honestly, this seems to be a pretty outrageous law. By comparison, you can't arrest a guy just for driving around slowly in an area known for prostitution. You have to see them actually solicit the illegal act -- just acting suspicious isn't (and shouldn't) be enough.

Politically Incorrect Restaurants

2007-08-25T09:16:00.000-05:00

Something about the Tex-Mex restaurant that just opened in Bertram makes me uncomfortable. I think it's the name:

Yes, you're reading that right, it's "Los Mezkan's", which for you non-Spanish speakers out there means "The Mexican's". Wait, I'm getting a cable from the Mexican embassy -- ok, that's not really Spanish, it's just slang. Hmph.

Anyway, I know calling someone "Mezkan" isn't really an insult, but it still seems weird. It'd be like opening a place that serves traditional "white people" food and calling it "Cracker's" or something.

Oh. Well. Bad example. But you'd never see a restaurant whose name could be construed as an insulting term for Black people, right? Right?!

I give up. Maybe we're normal here in Bertram after all.

Bloggers as Reporters

2007-08-23T23:57:00.001-05:00

As my father-in-law George Phenix said at our wedding, Annie and I both have "ink in our blood" as children of newspaper publishers. So even though this blog is mostly for yuks, I take journalism seriously. That's why I want to point you to this excellent LA Times article by Jay Rosen about specific examples of bloggers doing the same real, honest, hard, valuable work that historically made journalism so important to our democracy.

Journalists are, at their core, supposed to be adversarial. They're supposed to go out and find the truth, even -- especially! -- when that truth offends those who hold power. Whether it's the local dog catcher abusing his authority to harm animals or the President of the United States lying through his teeth about blowjobs or WMD, reporters are supposed to be the guardians of truth in a democracy.

And yet, reporters at some point gained the mantle of royalty, holding a privileged and exalted position in our culture. We put them on pedestals and made stars out of them. They have become entrenched in the halls of power on which they are supposed to report, and I think something valuable in the profession was lost when that happened.

Making them stars subverts that adversarial positioning they're supposed to have. When our elite political reporters, for instance, hang out at cocktail parties with the politicians they're supposed to be covering, that's a problem.

Over the last ten years, bloggers have begun to fill the void vacated when our journalists became news readers instead of reporters, when they became part of the story rather than investigators of it. And yet most people think of blogging as being a series of high school slam books or open diaries, full of pointless trivia at best and the worst sort of vituperative bile at its worst. In any event, blogging certainly can't fill the same kind of niche that good reporting is supposed to. Right?

Wrong.

As Rosen points out, bloggers at their best can exceed even the best traditional journalism has been able to offer. They don't have the billion dollar budgets or massive news organization, but they have drive and a dogged determination to follow a story to the nitty gritty end, no matter where it leads.

I'm not saying blogging and bloggers will, can, or should replace traditional news agencies. But they absolutely can -- and already have, as Rosen points out -- do at least as well as any professional media outlet. Already they have helped remind our reporters what their job is supposed to be -- to uncover the truth, not parrot talking point memos.

This blog is just for yuks as I said, but others are much, much more serious. Before you casually dismiss all blogging as overhyped nonsense, remember that television news once got the same dismissive treatment from their print brethren. Then "The News Went Live" and nothing was ever the same again. I think we're in the middle of another such revolution, and bloggers are leading the charge.

Check out Rosen's piece. I think it'll really open your eyes to what's possible in the collaborative, interactive world the Internet and blogging software have made possible. Journalism isn't something you learn in an ivory tower, and "Reporter" isn't a title bequeathed by a royal elite. Journalism is what you do, and today, bloggers are doing it better than almost anyone else.

Marking Your Turf

2007-08-23T17:17:00.000-05:00

Any man who owns a sizable piece of property who claims he hasn't peed on it is either a liar or wears a colostomy bag.

We might not share much biology with wolves, but psychologically we definitely have the Pee Gene ("Markus Territorius") in common. There's something very pleasing about splashing about on the back ninety, like planting a very watery stake in the ground that says "MINE!" Now granted, you can take the concept too far, as the woman at HEB claims I did when I was "claiming" my truck in the parking lot, but the principle stands.

I like to imagine that marking the fence line will repel rapacious coyotes. They'll come up, hungry for horse or donkey meat, and encounter the manly fruit of my kidneys (can liquid be a fruit? maybe the "fruit juice" of my kidneys, then) which causes them to flee in terror. It's much likelier, of course, that they'll immediately start drawing straws on who gets to be first at the buffet.

"Smells like Microsoft, Bill."
"Break out the forks, Bob, I'm goin' in."

Still, 101 acres is a lot to cover. I think I'm going to have to invest in some shares of Diet Coke ("Billions and Billions of Gallons of 'Fruit Juice' Produced So Far!") and block out some time if I'm going to get to it all ...

Get Your Ass On the Porch

2007-08-22T12:36:00.000-05:00

Literally:

While visiting the front of the house, the donkeys ate some expensive monkey-grass we had just planted, knocked over two planters, decimated some plastic flowers we'd put out, tore down the rope intended to keep them out, and made numerous hoofprints in the granite gravel walkway.

Now I know why "jack-ass" is an insult!

MODAD Gets Bent

2007-08-21T09:07:00.000-05:00

With the "most expensive piece of glass on the vehicle" replaced in my truck, the garden hose patched, and the small mower dropped off at the shop for wheel replacement therapy, I turned my attention to repairing the damage wrought both by and to MODAD and discovered why he was so grumpy:

That's what just one day of living the country life can do to high-tech equipment. Let that be a lesson to all you wanna-be Bubba Nerds out there.

I replaced the blade on Saturday, and on Sunday when I went to take MODAD out into the fields to play, he had two flat tires. Apparently he's still grumpy. I reminded him that in the fable, the mouse and the lion become good friends once the thorn is removed, but then I realized MODAD is a Deere. And apparently, deer are a lot less forgiving than lions.

SNORK!

2007-08-20T20:27:00.000-05:00

If Annie comes home tomorrow to find me dead, you can blame Tim Conway -- he made me laugh so hard (again) that I almost choked to death.

See, earlier tonight Fox aired a program called something like "Television's Funniest 30 Moments", which from the premise alone you know is guaranteed to piss everybody off when their favorite moment doesn't make the cut. And sure enough, I got pissed.

Because for my money, you won't find a funnier five minutes in the history of television than the following blooper outtake from "The Carol Burnett Show" involving an unscripted elephant story by the consummate funny man, Tim Conway.

The setting features the popular sketch "The Family" (which later got spun off into its own show called "Mama's Family"), one of the recurring bits on the program. Tim Conway's character just got an answer about elephants wrong in the game they were playing but Tim, never content to leave a script as written, jumps in with an ad-libbed story. How he holds his composure throughout is a true mystery, but what's really remarkable is that he manages to crack up Carol Burnett herself, legendary for her iron will and control.

You'll see Conway do his riff twice. I'm not sure if the first is from the regular broadcast and the second is from the West Coast feed (I think they used to shoot and air the entire show twice), or if it's a rehearsal or re-take, but they're both hysterical. Be sure to watch all the way to the end for Vicki Lawrence's fantastic zinger that literally sends them all falling off the couch laughing.

If you can't make out her line at the end, it's "Reckon that little ass-hole is just about through?"

Behold ... MODAD!

2007-08-13T17:52:00.001-05:00

In less than 24 hours I managed to purchase an $1,800 item that allowed me to destroy an additional $1,100 of previously owned merchandise. How did I accomplish such an amazing feat? Read on, my friend, and stand in awe of the power of MODAD -- Mower of Death And Destruction -- as it proceeded to destroy:

The push mower I was using to prep the yard for the new mower.

The garden hose lying in my path. (About which I literally thought to myself, not two minutes before, "The odds of me breaking that hose with this mower while it's on its highest setting is pretty much zero." Now you know why I'm not working as an odds-maker in Vegas.)

The mulching attachment that comes with the mower, restraining band severed by a flying rock.

The side cab window of my truck (probably from the same rock that severed the mulcher in passing), which the replacement company said is, and I quote, "The most expensive piece of glass on the vehicle." I don't go halfway, baby, when I break something, I only break the best!

The author of this rampage of mayhem? I present you with MODAD -- the Mower Of Death And Destruction!

I bet it's wondering how it's going to power through the garage door blocking its escape. Keep your eyes peeled, folks -- it's getting hungry.

Top Ten Things World of Warcraft Can Teach You About Life

2007-08-11T07:50:00.001-05:00

Many people decry games like "World of Warcraft" as vast, bloated time sinks that suck away the lives and personalities of its subscribers, giving nothing of value in return.

Not unlike America's political parties!

But seriously. I think these people are wrong, and as evidence I present the "Top Ten Things World of Warcraft Can Teach You About Life":

10. No matter how much time, money, and energy you put into making something, there's no guarantee anyone will want to buy it.

9. Hot girls can dance to make money. Even if they're really guys.

8. Where you choose to make your home (whether a neighborhood or a server) can make a huge difference in how enjoyable your time is. Nothing's more frustrating than having to constantly wait on construction when all you want is to get home.

7. Some people are just plain ass-holes and there's not a lot you can do about it unless you have powerful friends. Preferably friends with really, really big swords.

6. If you want a sweet ride, you better save your money.

5. Short people have feelings too. Even gnomes. Probably.

4. You can go a lot farther if you have a group of friends watching your back.

3. I've been rich, and I've been poor, and believe me -- rich is better.

2. That fancy, over-engineered mechanical gizmo might look neat and cost a fortune, but odds are it'll let you down when you need it most. Sometimes the simple, reliable things are better.

1. You might think of The Other Side as absolutely evil, soulless, cowardly scumbags with no heart ... until you actually step into their shoes and experience the world from their point of view, understanding their history and outlook. Don't be surprised if "Good Guys" and "Bad Guys" are interchangeable labels sometimes.

Tantrum Meditation

2007-08-10T11:33:00.001-05:00

I think "Get Fuzzy" has nailed what's been going on with me for the past few weeks (click for a larger version):

Science Encodes Values

2007-08-07T07:29:00.000-05:00

Chris Mooney served on the Yearly Kos NetRoots convention's science panel last week, and had this to say in his write-up of the event (emphasis mine):

[I]t has fallen to those of us who oppose the direction the country has been heading to simultaneously champion a way of thinking that would have averted so many blunders and disasters: empirical thinking. Scientific thinking. Critical thinking.

In other words, you might say that now more than ever before, we're finally waking up to the fact that the practices of science themselves encode a set of values -- a way of approaching the world, understanding it, and acting within it. At its core, it's a world view that is humble about what we know and don't know, flexible about what we do and don't decide to do, and open about admitting past mistakes and listening to contrary opinion. In short, it's the utter opposite of Bush's stubborn, inflexible, unwavering certainty about everything.

That bolded statement really spoke to me, because I think very often that science is looked at as a value-free exercise. But it's not. As Mooney says, because it has a certain kind of approach built right into it, it encodes certain values as part of its very substance. That's a powerful statement.

Science's core value of humility is often derided and looked upon as weakness by those who have certainty at the center of their approach to the world. But it's not a weakness to admit you might be wrong. It's instead the greatest kind of strength.

You see the same kind of split in the religious world as well, with some adherents telling us to be humble in the face of the Almighty and others arrogantly proclaiming that there is Only One True Way and they happen to know it, so get ready to be blasted if you oppose them!

It's a fundamentally human schism, one that runs through every movement and every belief system (yes, even rationalism or skepticism).

Arrogance versus humility.

Certainty versus doubt.

I expect that, like light and dark, both are somehow necessary for the universe to keep rolling along. But as for me, I'll always prefer the side that admits it could be wrong, that allows for the possibility of change, and that isn't afraid to stare the unknown in the face and ask "What are you?" And then deal with the consequences of getting an answer.

Devil's Cape

2007-08-06T08:51:00.001-05:00

My super-hero dream isn't the only one coming true recently. One of my online gaming friends, Rob Rogers (creator of the "Hero City" Uberworld campaign setting among others), has just announced that his first novel, "Devil's Cape", is going to be published by the Big Daddy of the gaming world, Wizards of the Coast. Even writing an entire novel is an amazing accomplishment. Getting it published is an order of magnitude greater, and getting it published as the result of winning a global competition by one of the premier gaming companies in the world -- well, there's just not a word for how fantastic that is. If you like crime novels, southern fiction, super-heroes, or any combination of the three, then pre-order your copy from Amazon today. I just did, and I can't wait for it to get here.

Congratulations, Rob!

Authentic Italian Country

2007-08-06T07:21:00.000-05:00

More evidence supporting the theory advanced by commenters Denise and Allen that most country businesses are just as awash in unimaginative naming as Bertram's own Earl's comes from this blurb ("Cool Places") in the August 2007 issue of "Texas Co-Op Power" newsletter:

In a part of the country where blue-plate specials are more the luncheon norm stands Frenke's Pasta & Pizza, authentic Italian fare. Hailing from Kosovo, Frank Misini opened the restaurant in 2002. There was a Mexican restaurant nearby called "Frankie's", so he named his Frenke's.

First, I don't know that coming from Kosovo -- which, if you'll check your local globe, is not in Italy -- necessarily grants you the mantle of "authentic Italian." Second, I don't know any Italians named "Frenke". Mr. Misini would have been better off just outright stealing the name of the Mexican restaurant, because I know lots of actual Italians named Frank but not one single Frenke. Being from Kosovo, of course, there's no way he could have known that. I guess that's what makes him authentic here in Nerd Country.

A Tale of Two Earls

2007-08-04T10:48:00.000-05:00

Willie the One-Armed Volunteer Fireman who works at the tire shop isn't the only interesting thing about the tire business in our small town. Not by a long shot.

See, this is Ear's Tire & Automotive Repair, which as you can guess from its name sells tire and automotive services.

And this is Earl's Tire and Lube, which as you can guess from its name also sells tires and automotive services.

These two stores are only about ten miles apart, one in the small town of Liberty Hill and the other in the even smaller town of Bertram, the next stop down the road. But here's the thing -- they're two different Earls.

Completely unrelated.

So let's say you're in a small town of a few dozen people. And you're driving down the road and see that your friend Earl has opened himself a tire and automotive shop. "Well heck," you think to yourself, "my name is Earl, I reckon I ought to open one of them up too. I mean, what are the odds that a business would exist that has my name built right into it?"

I asked Earl about it one time (not that Earl, the other one), and he just gave me a disgusted look and said "That sonofabitch." I didn't pursue it any further, because I didn't want Earl (not that one, the other one) to get mad at me. I need my tires to work and I'm pretty sure "Earl's Tire, Lube, and Automotive Repair" one more town over is closed on weekends.

Where Are The ESPN Challengers?

2007-08-04T10:15:00.000-05:00

Why doesn't anyone try to beat ESPN in the sports news market? In general news you've got CNN, MSNBC, Fox, NBC, ABC, CBS, Bloomberg, and a handful of other competitors and yet ESPN stands alone in the sports news marketplace. Why?

Partly it's that the sports market isn't as big as the general news market, and thus there's less room for competition. And partly it's that ESPN so thoroughly dominates the space. I even think it would be fair to say that sports and ESPN are pretty much synonymous for most people.

Also, general national news was already a competitive enterprise before cable came along -- all three networks hosted monstrous news organizations. No such infrastructure existed for national sports reporting, so ESPN had the market to itself. And they've been relentless about pursuing and dominating every niche that's come along since, much to their credit. They've done everything they can to stay relevant and connected with younger audiences.

But I think ESPN is starting to show its age, ironically in the way they are so dogged about staying hip. It's all starting to look a little forced and fake at this point, like an aging superstar who still wears tight dresses and too much makeup, showing up at parties and laughing a little bit too loud. I think America's ready for the Next Big Thing in sports reporting, something to knock the big guy down a few pegs and liven things up.

The most likely candidate is FoxSportsNet, the group of local sports channels NewsCorp gobbled up over the past ten years or so. They've got a large infrastructure in place already, including on-air talent, and at least some national name recognition. The larger corporation has a vast amount of money to spend and a formidable lobbying presence in Washington to help pave the way for any legislation they might need. And Fox certainly has a history of knocking aging stars off their pedestals.

Frankly, I don't really think they'd be able to take a significant market share away from ESPN, but I do think it'd be fun to see them try.

America's Shrinking Stature (Not That There's Anything Wrong With That)

2007-08-03T09:15:00.000-05:00

Back in the day, Americans were the beefed-up muscle-bound guy at the beach kicking sand in the faces of the 90-lb weakling nations, sporting the tallest citizens on average of anyplace on planet Earth.

Alas, those days are long gone, as the United States isn't even in the top ten tallest nations any more.

What I'd like to know is, which of these newly-tall nations has been stealing our height? I demand an immediate investigation! Pass some laws, then ignore them and have the CIA do it the old-fashioned way. I even have a hot tip for them -- according to the article:

Back in 1850, the Dutch and other Western Europeans were 2 inches shorter than Americans.

The Netherlands now tops the "Tallest Nation" list at a resounding six feet for men and five foot seven inches for the women. That can't be natural; all they have to eat there is snow! Now I ask you, have you ever seen a tall snowman? I think not. Clearly something more nefarious is at play here, and I for one would like to know how they've been stealing our height.

Not that there's anything wrong with being short, as my entire family can attest. As my five foot tall mother said to my five foot one inch sister, "You're the tall one." Maybe that's what's really behind the Iraq War, a severe case of Short Nation Syndrome. There's certainly enough sand there for them to kick in our face.

Where have you gone, Charles Atlas? A nation turns its lonely eyes to you. Granted we now have to turn our eyes up to you since we're so short, but don't let that stop you from helping us beef back up.

Iron Man!

2007-07-30T17:26:00.001-05:00

With thanks to my friend John for the tip, here is the first sneak preview of the 2008 "Iron Man" movie, as presented at ComicCon (apologies for the dark nature of the clip):

Why Americans Hate the Media

2007-07-30T08:30:00.001-05:00

Matt Yglesias points this morning to an absolutely fascinating 1996 discussion of why Americans hate the media by James Fallows. Although it's 11 years old, the article still rings absolutely true. I think Matt's right -- it's so good there's almost no way to select only the "good parts" -- but being a stubborn git I nonetheless have tried to pull a few paragraphs that really jumped out at me to give you the general idea of the piece below the fold.

The discussion shows that are supposed to enhance public understanding may actually reduce it, by hammering home the message that issues don't matter except as items for politicians to fight over. Some politicians in Washington may indeed view all issues as mere tools to use against their opponents. But far from offsetting this view of public life, the national press often encourages it...

It is more fun—and easier—to write about Bill Clinton's "positioning" on the Vietnam issue, or how Newt Gingrich is "handling" the need to cut Medicare, than it is to look into the issues themselves...

[A]ll issues are shoehorned into the area of expertise the most-prominent correspondents do have:the struggle for one-upmanship among a handful of political leaders...

Midway through the interview Bradley gave a long answer to the effect that everyone involved in politics had to get out of the rut of converting every subject or comment into a political "issue," used for partisan advantage. Let's stop talking, Bradley said, about who will win what race and start responding to one another's ideas.

As soon as he finished, Woodruff asked her next question: "Do you want to be President?" It was as if she had not heard a word he had been saying—or couldn't hear it, because the media's language of political analysis is utterly separate from the terms in which people describe real problems in their lives...

[A] relentless emphasis on the cynical game of politics threatens public life itself, by implying day after day that the political sphere is nothing more than an arena in which ambitious politicians struggle for dominance, rather than a structure in which citizens can deal with worrisome collective problems...

Why not imagine, just for a moment, that your journalistic duty might involve something more varied and constructive than doing standups from the White House lawn and sounding skeptical about whatever announcement the President's spokesman put out that day? ...

The point is not that the pundits are necessarily wrong and the public necessarily right. The point is the gulf between the two groups' reactions. The very aspects of the speech that had seemed so ridiculous to the professional commentators—its detail, its inclusiveness, the hyperearnestness of Clinton's conclusion about the "common good"—seemed attractive and worthwhile to most viewers...

"Polls show that both Republicans and Democrats felt better about the Congress just after the 1994 elections," a Clinton Administration official said last year. "They had 'made the monkey jump'—they were able to discipline an institution they didn't like. They could register the fact that they were unhappy. There doesn't seem to be any way to do that with the press, except to stop watching and reading, which more and more people have done."

As I've gotten older, I've come to think of the mainstream media not as "liberal" or "conservative", but as Establishment. Like the popular clique at school, their main goal is the maintenance of their own power and influence. What matters is not truth, or fairness, or intelligence, but increasing the scope of their own importance. And as Fallows points out, the way to do that is to focus on only the interpersonal, political, high-school sociology of politics rather than the things that actually matter.

Singin' in the Gay

2007-07-29T20:51:00.000-05:00

I'm pretty sure I'm not gay, but after watching "Singing in the Rain" again tonight, I'm starting to wonder. Is it normal to find yourself thinking "Damn that Gene Kelly is a good-looking, great-dancing, stud-muffin of a singer"? I definitely shouldn't have gotten weepy at the end -- again -- especially when I've seen the movie a dozen times before. I think I better go hack down a tree or shoot a deer or something, quick, before they revoke my man card for good this time.

I did have one major revelation while watching it, though. I've never done drugs, but I'm pretty sure if I ever do, I want to watch the "Broadway Melody" sequence during it. I feel reasonably certain that acid is the only thing that can make sense of that number.

Finally, I think this routine from Donald O'Connor not only is the best thing in picture, but pretty much sums up my entire approach to life. Enjoy.

Nothing To Say

2007-07-29T00:06:00.001-05:00

I found a blog called "Anonymous Truth", wherein the author says:

You know they are there. Things you'd never think to say out loud. This is my spot to say them here. I could care less if anyone ever reads this. The point is that I'll be able to say things that I wouldn't be able to on my normal blog. Completely uncensored.

The blog is completely blank otherwise. Apparently, they didn't have much to say after all.

For some reason, this made me laugh. The Internet is a strange and wonderful wilderness, with bizarre relics of the mind lurking just around every bend.

Edited to add: It also made me sad.

Texas Creationist State Board of Education

2007-07-25T22:47:00.000-05:00

Governor Rick "Good Hair" Perry has just appointed Creationist Ron McLeroy (R-Bryan) to head the Texas State Board of Education. Upon hearing the news, I promptly joined the Texas Freedom Network, an advocacy group helping to promote good science education and the separation of church and state. President Kathy Miller pointed out some interesting nuggets from Mr. McLeroy's past:

• He voted in 2001 to reject the only advanced placement environmental science textbook proposed for Texas high schools even though panels of experts – including one panel from Texas A&M – found the textbook was free of errors. In fact, Baylor University used the same textbook.
• In 2003 Mr. McLeroy led efforts by creationism or “intelligent design” proponents to water down discussion of evolution in proposed new biology textbooks. He was one of only four board members who voted against biology textbooks that year that included a full scientific account of evolutionary theory.
• In 2004, Mr. McLeroy voted to approve "abstinence-only" health textbooks that failed to include any information about responsible pregnancy and STD prevention, despite state curriculum standards requiring that students learn such information.

Look, you're entitled to your own opinions, but you're not entitled to your own facts. And evolution is a fact. Putting someone in charge of the State Board of Education who doesn't know this is like putting someone in charge of the Navy who doesn't believe steel can float.

Deathly Hallows

2007-07-22T22:30:00.001-05:00

I don't want to spoil anything for those of you who have not yet read it, but the seventh and final Harry Potter book, "Deathly Hallows", is one of the most satisfying reads I've had in a long, long time. Exceptional end to an exceptional series. I hope to write up a few thoughts on the Harry Potter phenomenon in a couple of days once I've had a chance to think about it more, but for now, I can only urge you to read it as soon as you can. I picked it up at noon today and just put it down a few minutes ago.

Thank you, Ms. Rowling, for a great reading experience.

Fruits of a Wet Summer

2007-07-17T16:59:00.000-05:00

No, the title of this post is not a snide reference to some sort of dirty movie, I just wanted to post a couple of photos I took this morning of our house. The recent rains have resulted in a far greener beginning of summer than I can remember since moving to Texas; everything is in bloom and the local wildlife are out in force. Hope you enjoy this snapshot into what life is like in Nerd Country.

Survival Strategies

2007-07-15T09:02:00.000-05:00

What do you do when the survival strategy you've been using no longer works?

When I watch the various animals out here at the ranch I can clearly see how evolution has shaped their instincts for survival. At the first hint of danger -- whether a lurking puma or a flapping shopping bag -- those things can asphyxiate you if you're not careful! -- horses are built for fear and speed, with fast legs and big hearts. Eternal vigilance and a willingness to flee have served them well, and they're still ever-watchful here.

The donkeys went down a more aggressive path, facing directly into danger, finding safety in numbers not through the sacrifice of the less-fleet but in the power of multiple striking hooves. When the dogs get after them, the donkeys turn and fight.

The sheep, on the other hand, settled on screwing their way out of trouble. Not at the deciding moment, of course, but rather they breed rapidly enough that they could travel in massive flocks. They huddle together for safety, ensuring that only the ones on the outside get eaten. I'm not exactly sure how they decide who gets "Outside the Circle of Trust" duty, but I would guess it involves those poor individuals who insist on chasing an inside straight to the river.

On our ranch we only have four sheep, and yet they cling to their instinctual method of survival even so. Rarely more than a few feet from each other, they still clump into a ball when danger threatens. Of course with only four of them, they fail to realize that they're ALL on the outside of the flock, putting them equally at risk of being dinner.

You can look at their insistence on the old ways as either an honorable and commendable adherence to proven tradition, or as a hopelessly hidebound reliance on a now-irrelevant custom.

So what do you do when the survival strategy you've been depending on no longer works? I'm not sure, personally, but I plan on keeping an eye on those sheep just in case they hit on something new.

Oklahoma Blues

2007-07-12T07:06:00.000-05:00

MSNBC.com reports that the Oklahoma University football team must forfeit all of its 2005 wins:

Oklahoma must erase its wins from the 2005 season and will lose two scholarships for the 2008-09 and 2009-10 school years, the NCAA said Wednesday.

The penalties stem from a case involving two players, including the Sooners’ starting quarterback, who were kicked off the team last August for being paid for work they had not performed at a Norman car dealership. The NCAA said Oklahoma was guilty of a “failure to monitor” the employment of the players.

Ordinarily nothing makes a Texas fan like me happier than seeing OU in distress, but I think this case is a pretty raw deal. The NCAA makes literally billions of dollars off of football, but an entire program, its coaches, current players, and the two young men involved are all being hammered over $15,500 in student job payments. Fifteen grand. Coach Bob Stoops makes that much while flossing his teeth.

And why did the two players have to take the under-the-table job? Because none of the billions made by the NCAA goes directly to the student-athletes who perform on the field. They receive scholarships, yes, and that's great, but you can't eat a scholarship.

Stoops, who I simultaneously admire and want to shove out an airlock every time he humiliates Texas in a game, also has the 2005 wins stripped from his record:

[C]oach Bob Stoops’ career record will be amended to reflect the erased wins, dropping it from 86-19 in eight seasons to 78-19.

Talk about a raw deal! He has to give up the wins but keep the losses, that's rough.

OU may suck, but the NCAA blows. The whole system is becoming a laughingstock. Just pay the players already and get rid of this overwrought, unnecessary, hypocritical joke of an enforcement system.

Eulogy

2007-07-10T23:29:00.000-05:00

One of the ScienceBloggers has a tremendously moving account of his father's death posted today. It brought tears to my eyes. I can still hear that horrible moan my dad let out just after he slipped into unconsciousness there on his bed in my mother's house. Losing a parent is a wrenching experience and my heart goes out to the author and his family.

The post is well worth a read, but have a tissue handy.

Another Great Hellmuthian Moment

2007-07-10T06:13:00.000-05:00

Once again Dr. Pauly nails it, with this line regarding poker brat Phil Hellmuth and his recent auto-accident during the World Series of Poker:

Hellmuth could dodge bullets, but he couldn't dodge a light pole.

(For context, Hellmuth once famously said of himself that he was so great he could dodge bullets after making a correct play during a previous WSOP.)

Virtual Destiny: Are You Your Avatar?

2007-07-10T05:51:00.000-05:00

How different would you be if you could be someone completely different? That's the issue faced by millions of online gamers involved in massive virtual worlds like "World of Warcraft". In my case, the answer is, "Not so different after all."

Granted, in my virtual life I have hair and am a ripped, big-eared, sword-toting Blood Elf. But the person beneath both the real and virtual skin remains surprisingly consistent. For instance, you have your choice of a bunch of different jobs you can have in WoW, just like in real life. Rather than a doctor, lawyer, web designer, or other real-life professions, in the game you choose from a "class" like Shaman, Rogue, Warrior, etc. From the very beginning I wanted to play a Hunter (lives in the wilderness, doesn't really need much help from others, has a big ol' pet), but I ended up playing a Priest instead (group dependent, can be kind of wimpy, lives to heal others) because the group I was in needed one.

That's right, even in virtual reality I put other people's needs ahead of my own. I think there's a name for that, and it begins with "pa" and ends with "thetic".

I worry about hurting other players' feelings in WoW. Isn't that silly? We're playing a game and I don't want to upset them. I can't "forget" that there's a person on the other end of the avatar, and whether they're a 13 year old kid or a 80 year old grandpa, I keep hoping they're having a good time. It's a throwback to my co-ed soccer days as a youth, when I'd yell "excuse me!" to the opposing girl player after I'd run her over.

This is a problem in a game like WoW which is fundamentally adversarial -- there are two "sides" and you are on either one or the other. Part of the goal is to kill the other side whenever and wherever you can (don't worry, they get to resurrect themselves right away, which would be nice in real life). Conflict is built right into the structure of the game, and yet I avoid it as much as possible.

Sound familiar?

I don't know what percentage of playing in a massive virtual world like this is running away from yourself, but it seems like I am not running fast or far enough to get away from who I am, fundamentally. That's good in some ways, bad in others. But just like in real life, this time around through WoW I am trying to grow. I'm finally playing a hunter as my main character, which is the way I wanted it originally. I'm on a dedicated Player vs. Player server (PvP), which ramps up the inherent conflict even more, hoping I can get over my dreadful reluctance to ever engage another human being. And I'm playing on the same realm (server) as my brother-in-law and nephew and their group of friends (guild), who seem to have the right idea about all of this. It's supposed to be fun, not an extended psychological drama, and that's a lesson I very much need to learn.

What about you? When you engage in fantasy play, whether it's through online gaming or in some other facet of your life, do you prefer to be someone else, or just another version of you?

A Gastronomic Miracle!

2007-07-05T14:44:00.000-05:00

While shopping for the Fourth of July festivities, I came across an exciting new innovation in the snack chip wars -- corn tortilla chips that taste like corn!

I don't know why no one thought of this before. I can just imagine the meeting where they discussed the situation:

Bob: No one is buying our corn tortilla chips and I don't know why.
Stan: It's bizarre. I mean come on, they taste just like broccoli!
Bob: Exactly! I wonder what else we could make them taste like.
[puzzled silence]
Stan: You know this is kind of a crazy idea but ... nah, never mind.
Bob: No no, go on, I'm curious what your thoughts are.
Stan: Well, if you're sure ... I feel kind of silly even bringing it up but since you insist ... what if we -- now hang on to your hat here, this is pretty wild -- what if we made our corn tortilla chips taste like ... corn!?

Unfortunately we don't have a record of Bob's reaction because his head exploded at the unprecedented concept. What we DO have, however, is a close-up of the label announcing to the world this ground-breaking moment in food technology:

I hope you join me in studiously avoiding the thought "If they only just now made these here corn tortilla chips taste like corn, what in the name of all that's good and right did they taste like before?"

How Much of a Geek Are You?

2007-07-04T07:53:00.000-05:00

My mother will be so proud. And Han shot FIRST, I tell you. FIRST!

79% GeekMingle² - Free Online Dating

Gamer YinYanginess

2007-07-04T07:35:00.001-05:00

I present the good and bad I recently experienced of being a gamer:

Good: Your sister trusts you enough to ask you to talk your nephew into giving up some of his "World of Warcraft" addiction.
Bad: Instead your nephew ends up talking you into reinstalling your World of Warcraft game so you can start playing again, too.

Good: The flame of addiction newly-lit, you rush to the store to buy the "Burning Crusade" expansion to the game so you can do all the new stuff that's come out since you quit.
Bad: The day you buy the expansion pack, lightning strikes your internet receiver, and you can't get online for a solid week.

Good: Your internet service gets fixed so you can now reinstall the original version of the game!
Bad: You have to download more than 1GB of patches and updates to complete the install. This takes three days.

Good: You finally download and install the last of the seemingly interminable patches and can install the "Burning Crusade" expansion you bought!
Bad: After you install the Expansion, you have to re-download the last five patches before you can log in. Which you already downloaded once. After agonizing through three days of downloads before THAT. And the week of dead internet before THAT. All while fighting the urge to put your fist through your router to force it to go faster, dammit!

Good: Finally, after a week and a half, you get to log in. Your brother-in-law kindly jumps in his high-level character and helps you out with some in-game money and items. Life -- virtual life, anyway -- is good.
Bad: It's going to be many months before you can get to a high enough level to thank him properly. Maybe beating his son with a hose for getting you re-addicted will be payback, though. Maybe.

Richard Simmons on "Whose Line"

2007-07-03T06:34:00.000-05:00

Add Richard Simmons to the mix on "Whose Line Is It Anyway" (the hilarious improv show that prompts Annie to come into the room to make sure I haven't asphyxiated myself from laughing so hard) and the results are unbelievable. My friend Dave sent me the YouTube of his appearance and it's one of the funniest things I've seen in a long time. The "ABC Family" logo at the bottom right is the perfect ironic accompaniment to what's happening on stage, too. Enjoy!

Pennies From Heaven, Dollars From Lightning

2007-07-03T06:31:00.000-05:00

We're back! It wasn't the floods or the rains that kept us offline so much as the lightning -- apparently that one really loud and bright bolt that woke us all up at three in the morning was a bona fide lightning strike. It fried our wireless Internet radio, two phone jack extensions, and our router. Luckily none of the other computer equipment was harmed as far as we can tell, and neither the house nor the animals nor the people inside were injured at all.

In that light, $200 in equipment repairs from electrical strikes is not a big deal after all.

Here Comes the Rain Again

2007-06-29T09:34:00.000-05:00

In just five hours on Monday night, the town of Marble Falls (where we do our shopping and movie-watching) got 18 inches of rain. That's almost as much precipitation as we got in all of 2006.

Amazingly, no one died, and although there was a lot of water damage (cars shoved out of garages and into the street, the city water supply compromised, etc.), they're pretty much back on their feet now.

We got about 8 inches at our house, but thanks to excellent home placement by Annie, we're up on a hill and were never in any danger at all. The creek swelled to amazing heights and blew out the fence at the back of the property (I'll post more on that later), and apparently lightning struck either right on, or close to, our house. The breakers tripped and our internet tower got fried, along possibly with one of our phone adapters. Otherwise, though, we came through just fine. The donkeys are stuck on the far side of the creek because they're too chicken to cross where the water's low. They've got plenty to drink and eat, though, and shelter in the forest, so they should be all right. I keep an eye on them with the binoculars and am going to bring them some grain and hay today as comfort food, but they're hardy little guys.

Not having Internet access is a pain in the butt, especially when you're trying to run a business online. I dragged out our ancient, decrepit laptop to an Internet cafe in town, but it's so slow I'd be better off hand-delivering my messages.

Anyway, I'll continue regular posting once I have regular access to the net, but wanted to let everyone know that we're doing fine.

High Schoolers with Cajones

2007-06-25T22:13:00.000-05:00

According to this MSNBC.com story:

President Bush was presented with a letter Monday signed by 50 high school seniors in the Presidential Scholars program urging a halt to "violations of the human rights" of terror suspects held by the United States. The White House said Bush had not expected the letter ...

"We do not want America to represent torture. We urge you to do all in your power to stop violations of the human rights of detainees, to cease illegal renditions, and to apply the Geneva Convention to all detainees, including those designated enemy combatants," the letter said.

It's both a proud and a sad day when a group of high school students has the balls to say to the President of the United States what neither the Congress nor the media will. Suddenly the future looks just a little bit brighter, if these are the outstanding young men and women who will be running it.

I Don't Want to Vote for Hillary Clinton

2007-06-24T21:11:00.000-05:00

I don't want to vote for Hillary Clinton. Here's why:

Dynasty. We've gone Bush - Clinton - Bush. I don't want to see that pattern continue -- we did away with hereditary monarchies a long time ago, for good reason.

Authoritarianism. I think Hillary is the same type of authoritarian leader as G.W. Bush, Dick Cheney, and Richard Nixon, the type who thinks the rules don't apply to her or her subordinates, and who thinks the rule of law is an inconvenient weakness to be skirted rather than the core of what makes our country great.

Baggage. I'm still exhausted from the last few years of Bill Clinton's presidency, when I had a friend on the phone tell me that he hated Bill and Hillary personally. Not just their politics or their positions, but as human beings. I don't think I can take four more years of that kind of anger from the right.

Lack of Vision. Her vote on Iraq showed me that she lacks insight and wisdom. Granted, she's not alone, a lot of people got it wrong at the time (including me), but I'd rather have someone who got it right serve as our next President. If I was willing to settle for someone as gullible as I am, I'd vote for myself.

An Unwillingness to Admit When She's Wrong. I hate people who can't say "I was wrong, I'm sorry." Her tortured defense of the original Iraq vote now that it's obvious she was wrong is painful to watch. A lack of vision joined with an inability to admit error is a bad combination.

The Vast Right-Wing Conspiracy. For seven years we've had an Administration who treats the opposing party as anti-American, traitorous scum who by virtue of having lost an election are no longer allowed to have a voice in how the country is run, and I'm sick of it. I think Hillary fundamentally sees the world the same way, as "Us versus Them", where "Them" is other Americans who happen to disagree with her. Haven't we learned by now that that's a bad way to run the country? We don't need a ruler, we need a leader, and you can't lead with hatred and fear. Not for long, anyway.

The Health Care Initiative. I've done some reading lately on how she handled the Health Care Initiative at the beginning of Bill's presidency, and it wasn't pretty. High-handed authoritarianism and contempt for the opposition were evident even then, and she wasn't even elected! Again, seven years of that is enough.

Having said that, I will absolutely not vote for a Republican, because I think it's crucial both for our country and their party that they lose this election, and lose big. As "The Commander Guy" said, we only get one chance every four years to pass judgment on the leadership of the President and his party. Given that, I'm happy to oblige him by telling the Republicans exactly what I think of Gitmo, Abu Ghraib, the Debacle in Iraqle, the "Unitary Executive", Presidential Signing Statements, "Heckuva Job, Brownie", ballooning federal debt and deficits, extraordinary rendition, torture, warrantless wiretaps, and the rest of the legacy foisted on us by this renegade bunch of malicious incompetents. (Yes, that statement's probably over the top, but damn it was fun to write!)

Any other Democrat besides Hillary is pretty much a shoe-in for me. Since I live in Texas and my vote's not going to count anyway (anyone with an "R" after their name has our electoral college reps all wrapped up by now), I have the luxury of not voting for Hillary if she's the Democratic nominee. I wish the primary season worked differently and I had a chance to at least influence who my party was going to nominate, but I'm shut out of that by virtue of the calendar. So I don't get a say at any level really, and thus I'm at a loss as to what to do when I'm in the booth on Election Day.

The Libertarian candidate looks like a first-class nutjob, which I guess means I'll have to look into the Green Party or something. Man, I'll feel like a whacko if I do that. I wish we had more choices somehow, either with a parliamentary system like in England, where each party gets a percentage of seats in government proportional to the votes cast for them, or just by having a greater number of viable parties. Having only two candidates with a reasonable hope of success sucks.

Wherein Science Proves I'm Dumb

2007-06-22T12:34:00.000-05:00

According to the New York Times, eldest children in a family have an IQ an average of 3 points higher than younger siblings. The higher up in birth order you are, the smarter you are. The lower down, the dumber.

Find the Moron!

As the youngest of seven children, I've run the numbers and have discovered that, according to this research, I should have the same IQ as pocket lint.

However, I've just been handed this note by the Pocket Lint Anti-Defamation League, disavowing any relationship between the IQ of their members and, quote, "That one-lobed mouth breather Jeff," endquote.

So, there you have it, clearly this research must be in error, which would have been abundantly clear had any of these scientists actually met my older siblings. I'm not saying they're dim, I'm just saying they thought 9-11 was the store two blocks down from 7-11.

Actually I'd say 3 IQ points is probably on the low side. What they don't tell you is that the lost intelligence is due to an unending stream of wedgies throughout the early developmental years. They also ate all the good food before I could get to it so I was undernourished. And ... um .... I'm sure there are other reasons too, but I lack the IQ to think of them. Maybe I'll call my brother and he can tell me.

Spock, Lesbians, and You

2007-06-22T06:39:00.000-05:00

I hope you will join in me in marveling at the irony of seeing this cover arrive in the mail on the very same day I wrote a post about lesbian farm animals:

I'm not saying these two women are necessarily lovers, but they are shopping while scantily clad in nightgowns. I doubt that's what lesbians do on dates, despite the best efforts of the pornography industry to convince us otherwise, but it does give one pause. And to be perfectly clear, I wholeheartedly support the right of women everywhere, gay or straight, to shop while wearing lingerie. That's a trend I think we can all get behind.

Of course it's possible those are sun dresses, but then how do you explain the lack of footwear? No pet owner in their right mind -- especially one with a dog who, from the look on its face, is about two seconds from bringing all new meaning to the phrase "explosive diarrhea" -- is going to scamper around without their shoes on. That's just asking for trouble.

I make no assertions one way or another about the sexual orientation of the dog, but he or she certainly doesn't look happy to be there with the lingerie twins. I would bet it's because of where they're shopping -- if you look closely I think that's a dancing Spock from Star Trek on the tie behind the couple. Clearly, the dog's outraged because everyone knows Spock's shirts were "Cool and Calm Except for McCoy" science blue, not "Shoot Me First" security red.

Naturally I've ordered one for the ranch. I think the donkeys are going to look great in it, even the lesbian ones.

Lesbian Summers

2007-06-21T17:21:00.000-05:00

It's the first day of Summer, and apparently a young animal's thoughts turn to love ... Sapphic love, that is!

I'm home all day now working on the project so I end up keeping an eye on the animals a lot more often. And apparently, two females who are in heat will often ... er, let's see, how to word this on what is ostensibly a PG-rated blog ... imitate the mating habits more usually seen involving a male and a female.

The donkeys are doing it. The dogs are doing it. And I'm not sure, but I have my suspicions about two of the barn swallows.

I was a bit shocked the first time, but at this point it's sort of become old hat. I know for the dogs it's a dominance thing, but I'm not sure what's going on in the donkeys' minds. Or whatever other part of the anatomy is concerned. The saddest thing is when one of the full-sized jennets "introduces herself" to Charity, the little miniature female. That brings all new meaning to the phrase "She ain't heavy, she's my sister".

I don't have any large metaphysical insights to draw from this. It's just weird. But lesbian donkey sex is certainly not something I ever thought happened back in the full-time computer nerd days.

Well, ok, there was that one ill-advised Google Image search, but you can't prove that without an FBI wiretap!

Smile! You're Arrested.

2007-06-20T15:54:00.000-05:00

Did you know you can be arrested and sent to prison for videotaping a police officer, even if it's to protect yourself from false accusations?

~~Randy~~ Radley Balko, a libertarian-minded columnist for Reason Magazine and FoxNews.com who I like a lot, has a column today documenting some of the recent arrests for this "offense". He makes the excellent point that the police are public servants, and since we're the public, we should have the right to hold them accountable with videotape evidence of their actions:

Earlier this year, Iraq war veteran Elio Carrion was shot three times at near-point-blank range by San Bernardino, Calif., deputy Ivory Webb. Carrion was lying on the ground and was unarmed. Video of the arrest and shooting, however, was captured by bystander Jose Louis Valdez. Webb since has been fired from the police department and is on trial on charges of attempted voluntary manslaughter and assault with a firearm. The video is the key piece of evidence in his trial.

While it's possible that police and prosecutors would have believed Carrion's version of events over Webb's even without the video, it seems unlikely.

The price of liberty is constant vigilance. I'm glad people like ~~Randy~~ Radley Balko are out there watching for this kind of crap and keeping the rest of us informed. The article's well worth a read if you're concerned about infringements on civil liberties. Balko has his own site, The Agitator, where he blogs about such issues. It's well worth a bookmark.

(I don't know how in the heck I got "Randy" originally. Duh.)

Underrated Henchmen

2007-06-20T11:43:00.000-05:00

Dave Campbell of "Dave's Long Box" has a new article up on Cracked that I found hilarious. Titled "The 7 Most Underrated Movie Henchmen", it's well worth a read. Here's the first line:

When you think of great movie henchmen—in other words, villains in the service of other nastier, most likely stupider villains—you probably think of guys like Goldfinger's Oddjob, Jack Palance in Shane, or Art Garfunkel.

How can you not read that?!

The Purpose of This Blog

2007-06-19T21:55:00.000-05:00

This is in response to a comment by GeoPoet in an earlier thread, here. If the rantings of an evil atheist about religion are going to scorch your ears, you'd probably better not click the "More" button. No, really, stop right there. Don't click that link! Don't --
D'oh! Oh well, you were warned.

GeoPoet Said:

I point these out because I get the impression, wrong perhaps, that there doesn't seem to be much attempt at balance in your blog any more.

I believe we have a fundamental misunderstanding here. The purpose of this blog is not to "be balanced", whatever that means. The purpose of this blog is not to "convert" anyone to atheism, as if that's even possible. It is not to give all religions a chance to have their say. It is not to let all atheists have their say. It is not to give every political party a chance to make their case or to examine every side of every issue.

The purpose of this blog is for me, a discreet individual living in a certain place at a specific time, to talk about my life and my thoughts. I live on a ranch in the middle of Texas, surrounded by animals, while working on Internet entertainment software and drawing super-heroes, surrounded by deeply religious Republicans while I am a liberal Democrat and atheist. So that's what I write about.

The purpose of this blog is for me to write about what I know, about what I experience, about what I believe. I don't write about life in the Australian outback, because I don't live in Australia. I don't write about life as a Hindu because I'm not a Hindu. I don't write about how from one point of view George W. Bush is the greatest president in history, because I don't believe that -- I believe he's an insufferable oaf who has done incalculable damage to the country I love. Writing anything else would be not only very difficult since, as I said, I don't know anything about it, but it would also be a lie. And while I freely admit I make mistakes, I don't lie.

If you're interested in any of those perspectives, I would encourage you to use Google Blog Search to go find a blog that writes about them. That's the whole point of blogging, so discrete and previously hard-to-find voices have an outlet. Trying to turn this space into some kind of bizarre "fair and balanced" newsroom would be as farcical as it would be impossible. Expecting me to write stirring defenses of theism is a waste of expectations, because I'm not a theist and my goal isn't to convince or sway anyone -- it's just to write about what life is like from my own point of view. That's it.

However, I feel there is a need to give the whole picture to those who get a biased picture of the joys of atheism, especially relatives reading this blog.

What you're really worried about, I think, is that someone reading this blog might, just possibly, come to the heretical and horrific conclusion that at least one atheist in the world is not, as they were taught in Sunday school or by their parents, evil or horrible. That at least one atheist is a good person, a nice guy, who loves his family and his animals and who wants to help make the world a better place. That atheism, at least for this one guy, doesn't mean Doom. Not with the goal of "converting" them (whatever that means), but just so they can learn some tolerance, some critical thinking, some awareness that unexamined bigotry -- even if fed to them by a well-intentioned parent -- is not just foolish, but harmful.

Ultimately, holding a specific, individual life up for examination, warts and all, is the only way to defeat bigotry. And at the end of the day, that is the purpose of writing about atheism from time to time in this blog; to refute the bigoted tyranny of the majority with the simple reality of my life and my existence.

A Hellmuthian Gem

2007-06-19T16:50:00.001-05:00

Although no one else who reads this blog likes poker, I just had to post a classic line about Phil Hellmuth (aka "The Poker Brat") from the World Series of Poker this year (note how Hellmuth talks about himself in the third person, which I believe was also one of Napoleon's habits):

After Vrabel stole his blinds for the second time Hellmuth said, "Keep stealing. They steal and steal and steal and before you know it, Phil Hellmuth has all the chips. It happens every day. They keep coming trying to take down the best int he world and they end up going broke. You're playing against a world champion."

Vrabel ignored Hellmuth's barbs and jawed back."This is pretty cool. I'm playing at the same table as the greatest player in the world. This is something I'll tell my grandkids. Of course they'll say 'Who is Phil Hellmuth?' because by then everyone will forget about you."

For the uninitiated, Phil Hellmuth actually is the greatest Texas Hold 'Em player in history, as he won his record eleventh overall WSOP bracelet this year. He's also an unbelievable prima dona, given to bratty outbursts berating other players and exulting in his ability to (in his own words) "dodge bullets, baby!". He's essentially the John McEnroe of poker, as legendary for his temper as his ability.

I gotta give Vrabel credit, though, that was a great line. I look forward to seeing it on ESPN when they finally get around to airing the event.

(Thanks to Pauly at the Tao of Poker, who's once again doing an amazing job covering the WSOP, for the quote.)

Atheist on a Plane

2007-06-19T09:38:00.000-05:00

"What," I asked myself while the plane taxied down the runway for takeoff, "do I do now that I don't pray any more?"

I used to travel quite a bit for a job I had, six weeks a year on average, and for all of those flights I prayed on every takeoff and landing. I'd make the sign of the cross and silently form the words:

"Dear Lord, please see this flight and all those upon it safely to its destination. If it should come to pass that any of us should die before we touch down, please take care of our family and friends and let them know that we love them. If we should live past the landing of this plane, please help us walk in the light and be good to each other. Amen."

It took me a while to get the wording right, although I suspected that God would get the idea no matter how clumsy my phrasing. I didn't want to sound like I was telling God what He ought to do, but I also didn't want to blame Him if anything should happen. I didn't want the focus to be on me or my own selfish life, but on those I cared for.

I found the ritual calming and comforting. I wasn't sure, even then, that there was anyone listening or, if there was Someone, that they cared. But it made me feel better. I'd made peace, even if just in my own mind, with how I felt about the people in my life. I'd come, at least in a small way, face to face with the possibility that I could die in the next few hours, and with that acceptance I was able to let the fear go.

But on this most recent trip, I realized that I could no longer engage in that comforting ritual. I didn't believe in God any more. So what do you do when you don't believe in God and you're afraid, in a position where you used to pray?

Personally, I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing slowly. I cleared my mind of distracting thoughts (like that baby crying in the seat behind me). I thought about the prayer I used to say, and realized that what mattered to me about it was focusing on the people in my life. So I brought them up one by one and asked "Are there things I've left unsaid to them? Is there anything I wished I'd done, but didn't? Do they know I love them?"

The answers varied depending on the person, of course, but overall I thought most of them know I loved them. I knew I'd been honest with them and as good to them as I know how to be. I promised to myself that I'd keep trying to be the best husband, son, brother, uncle, and friend I could be. To make the world better, even if only in a tiny way, as often as I could.

For me, letting go of my belief in a divinity has helped me focus more on humanity. To keep in mind that our duty is to each other, not to an invisible force in the sky. I know it's not that way for everyone, or even for most. Theism is, for many, a means to the same end, a way of helping them open their eyes to the other people around them even while focusing on the divine.

When I think of those people -- like my family, and some of my more religious friends -- it makes me happy. I don't much care what excuse people use to be good to each other, whether it's religion or atheism or philosophy or fear or simply good old fashioned human kindness. I'm just glad they do it.

After I opened my eyes and the plane was in the air, I smiled. I felt at peace, ready for whatever destination we were headed towards, and even happy for that baby crying in the row behind me. His mother was being good to him. May we all be so lucky.

Davids and Goliath

2007-06-17T19:28:00.000-05:00

This is our dog, Flash:

He weighs 110 pounds, has wolf in his bloodlines within the last few generations, and has been carefully bred as a representative of a new, but distinguished, breed of dogs.

These are the rescue puppies we have on the ranch, Cookie and Oreo:

They weigh maybe 20 pounds put together, apparently have ferrets somewhere in their bloodlines in the last few generations, and are completely random mutts.

Naturally, Flash is afraid of the puppies.

Sometimes it's not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog.

Or maybe Flash is just too refined to want puppies licking his face all over. We pretend that's the case anyway, as his dignity would be far too wounded by the suggestion that he's a gutless coward.

The Big Announcement

2007-06-15T09:09:00.000-05:00

I've alluded in the past few months that I had a Big Announcement, and today, I can finally make it:

The HeroMachine (and yours truly) have been bought out by UGO Networks, Inc.! I am now working for them full-time as a consultant continuing development on the HeroMachine application..

It's funny, when Annie and I were talking last year about what the ideal situation would be for HeroMachine, I said I'd want three things. First, I'd want a company to buy the program for a chunk of change, so I'd see some kind of tangible, immediate, real-world validation of the years of work that went into it. Second, that said company would be one that understands super-hero entertainment and its fans, and which had the resources to make the program better and better all the time. And finally, the chance to continue working on HeroMachine full-time.

In a stroke of great fortune, UGO has made the dream come true right down to the smallest detail. We have a good history of trust and respect (they're the company that's long hosted the free version of the software), and on top of it I like the guys there a lot -- they're a great group, very honest and authentic in their love for all things gamer related. They're based in New York City (hence my trips there over the last few months), which I thought would be a deal-breaker, but they very generously have allowed me to work right out of my little house in Bertram as a consultant, so that's just about perfect.

Anyway, that's the big announcement I've been hinting at. Thanks for being so patient with the oddness (well, more odd than usual, anyway). I am very, very happy that this opportunity has become available, and every morning I wake up, sit down at the computer, and while I start to work I think to myself "I'm getting paid to draw super-heroes all day. Pinch me!"

Life is good!

Starving Horses

2007-06-13T12:23:00.001-05:00

The next pasture over from our place is home to four horses who are all in terrible shape. Their owner lives in Austin and rarely (if ever) comes up to take care of them, assuming I suppose that all they need is whatever grass nature sees fit to put inside the fence. Here's the result of that kind of neglect:

Annie has contacted the county sheriff before to report the abusive neglect, but they did nothing. She tried again, with the same result. So this time we used the power of the Internet, posting some pictures along with a request for people to call the county directly to Craig's List.

At least ten different people called Animal Control on behalf of these horses, and the responses they got were illuminating. Half were told there'd never been a complaint before, which we know is a lie because we've complained. The other half were told the case had been investigated and they were just "old horses".

That is not an old horse, that is a starved horse. You should not be able to see the ribs and the hip bones like that unless an animal is in the last stages of death; he's barely more than skin and bones. Plus, one of the four is the filly of another, so clearly that one isn't ancient. We've seen these horses over the course of the last two years go from reasonably healthy to skeletons, and all the while the public agencies whose job it is to look after their welfare have failed to do much of anything.

A few hours after the calls started rolling in to the sheriff's office, the owner showed up and was frantically shoving grain through the fence. He's an attorney and apparently, law enforcement sticks together. I can imagine the panicked officer getting his buddy on the phone, telling him he better figure out something quick because other people were starting to notice.

The Good Ol' Boy Network only goes so far.

On the one hand, it's good that the guy gave his animals, finally, something to eat. On the other hand, when you've got horses in conditions this dire, giving them too much grain at once can make them colic and die. I'm sure he's only going to be paying attention long enough for people to take the heat off, and then the horses will be right back in the same spot -- starving, alone, and with no one to look out for them.

Except us. We'll be watching, and now, thanks to the power of the Internet, hopefully the rest of the world will be too.

Thoughts on the NBA Finals

2007-06-12T22:57:00.000-05:00

I would wager there are no other Spurs basketball fans reading these words, so I will mercifully continue the discussion of the NBA Finals after the jump.

Note: The original post had identified the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame building as Cleveland Arena. I plead blindness brought on by how ugly the building is.

The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame may well be the most hideous building I have ever seen. It's quite possibly even uglier than enshrinee Keith Richards.

The only thing uglier than the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland (aka "The Mistake By the Lake") was the game itself. Almost unwatchable for three and a half quarters.

The only thing uglier than both that building and the game is that patch of fur behind Drew Gooden's head (aka "The Clump on the Chump"):

Is it just me, or is Zydrunas Ilgauskas the spitting image of the guy who feeds Steve Buscemi into the wood chipper at the end of Fargo?

Improvement

2007-06-12T18:08:00.000-05:00

I've been working on the HeroMachine expansion pretty much non-stop for the last few weeks. I took a brief break a few days ago to create one character using the old items, and the same character (or as close as I could get) using the new ones, to see how they'd compare. Here's the side-by-side, new stuff on the left and old stuff on the right (as always, click for a larger version):

Once you graduate from school, you don't get graded any more. There aren't tests whereby some objective third party can pat you on the head and say "Yes, officially you have acquired at least a bit of new knowledge and skill." You just plug along, studying and striving, hoping you're learning something along the way. It's gratifying to take a look at something like that image, and to realize that yes, you are in fact getting better.

Very gratifying.

I have a lot further to go, of course, and I don't doubt that in another five years I'll look back on this set of drawings and want to hurl, like I do for that long-ago Jeff's work. But for now I feel pretty good.

Happy Loving Day!

2007-06-12T12:23:00.001-05:00

Today marks the 40th anniversary of Loving vs. Virginia, the Supreme Court case that legalized interracial marriage in the United States.

Read that again. Just forty years ago, it was illegal for a Black person and a White person to get married. I'm only 38, my wife's only 42, and I have a sister who's over 50. Within our lifetimes, racism was enshrined in the laws of many states, and not yet considered unconstitutional by the federal government.

Just one year after "Loving", Kirk and Uhura shared the first interracial kiss in television history. Think about that -- at a time when this program about the progress of mankind in the future was airing, it was illegal for two human beings who happened to have different skin colors to marry each other. I daren't think about what would have happened to Spock's parents, a human and a Vulcan, contemplating a union in that kind of environment.

In some ways it's hard to imagine what people were thinking back then, how such blatant hatred and racism wouldn't inspire automatic revulsion. And yet, something like 20% of Americans still think it is wrong for whites and blacks to marry. Who can defend such bigotry? Let's turn to the very words they themselves wrote to find out. Judge Leon Bazile said in his original judgement:

In this State marriage is treated as a civil contract, but it is more than a mere civil contract, it is a public institution established by God himself, is recognized in all Christian and civilized nations and is essential to the peace, happiness, and well being of society. * * *"

"* * * The right in the States to control, to guard, protect and preserve this God-giving, civilizing and Christianizing institution is of inestimable importance, and cannot be surrendered, nor can the States suffer or permit any interference therewith.

And of course later Judge Bazile wrote:

Almighty God created the races white, black, yellow, malay and red, and he placed them on separate continents. And but for the interference with his arrangement there would be no cause for such marriages. The fact that he separated the races showes that he did not intend for the races to mix.

Does that sound familiar to you? It should. It's the same exact "reasoning" used to justify the enshrinement of homosexual bigotry in state laws today. I wish our generation had the sense to learn the lesson of Richard Perry Loving and Mildred Delores Jeter, that extending the protection of marriage to two people sincerely in love and committed to each other can only make the institution more secure, more profound, more valuable to our society.

Will our children look back forty years from now at this period in time and wonder how we could have lived with ourselves, how people could harbor such irrational hatred of two people in love?

I fervently, earnestly, and with all my heart hope so. Today we celebrate the victory in one battle of this long war for freedom, even while we fight on a new front. Bigotry and hatred may change the masks they show the world, but hopefully there will always be those who, like Loving and Jeter, stand up and call it for what it is.

Happy Loving Day, everyone! Now get out there and love someone, dammit!

Hobbesian Friday: Out to Get Me Edition

2007-06-08T15:06:00.000-05:00

Released on: Tuesday, May 6th 1986. Images copyright Bill Watterson and Universal Press Syndicate.

I'm told that when she was younger, my sister Diane had two lists: "People I Hate" and "People Who Hate Me". God and my brother Johnny were at the top of both lists. I'm pretty sure she's gotten over it at this point, but I always think of her when I read this strip.

My most enduring personal memory of my sister is of her dragging me out of bed at two in the morning when she was bored and wanted to play cards. The fact that I was sleeping and didn't want to play cards was irrelevant -- her usual ~~victim~~ roommate (my other sister) was out of town, thus I was volunteered.

Groggy, bleary, barely understanding the rules to "Battle" she taught me, I staggered through an hour of "play". Finally she laughed and told me she had played the same ace, the exact same card, seventeen times in a row. "I've been cheating the whole time and you didn't even notice!" she howled, hooting and pointing. She assumed I was an idiot, never even guessing that my true motivation was utter indifference to cards and an all-consuming desire to return to sleep.

Humiliated, abused, and cardless, I was finally permitted to go back to my bed, but the memory stuck.

I've got news for Calvin -- the person out to get him isn't God, it's my sister Diane. If he's lucky Hobbes will hide the cards before she gets to them ...

The Twin Humps of the Apocalypse

2007-06-08T13:29:00.000-05:00

I have just learned of the first sign of the coming of the Apocalypse: Dolly Parton singing a country version of "Stairway to Heaven".

Apparently this happened in 2002 and I'm only just now becoming aware of it. I don't know how Rapture's held off this long, but I'm not taking any chances -- I'm packin' up the animals and headed to church, because if there's any rational definition of Hell on Earth, surely this is it.

Breaking News!

2007-06-07T10:15:00.001-05:00

The media today were shocked -- shocked! -- to learn today that rich white people are treated differently from everyone else in the criminal justice system. Shocked, I tell you!

What's next, using the power of your fame and bankroll to beat a murder rap? Sheesh.

Mangled Last Names

2007-06-03T08:42:00.000-05:00

My last name is hard to spell and pronounce -- it's "Hebert", and pronounced "A-bear". I've gotten to the point where I don't bother pronouncing it at all if I know it's going to need to be spelled because it just confuses people. But I've now witnessed the worst mangling I've ever experienced on a subscription to "Scientific American" my wonderful Aunt got me for my birthday:

JESS AEBERT

That's just epically wrong. But I guess you don't become the premier popular science magazine in the world by doing things halfway. Bravo, "Scientific American", bravo!

What Next For America?

2007-06-03T08:24:00.000-05:00

Fareed Zakaria has written a great column about what America can do after Bush leaves office to get the country back on the right track internationally. I'll post some excerpts after the jump, but I agree with virtually every word in the essay. Really good stuff.

Having spooked ourselves into believing that we have no option but to act fast, alone, unilaterally and pre-emptively, we have managed in six years to destroy decades of international good will, alienate allies, embolden enemies and yet solve few of the major international problems we face...

This distinct American advantage—which testifies to our ability to assimilate new immigrants—is increasingly in jeopardy. If leaders begin insinuating that the entire Muslim population be viewed with suspicion, that will change the community's relationship to the United States. Wiretapping America's mosques and threatening to bomb Mecca are certainly a big step down this ugly road...

We will never be able to prevent a small group of misfits from planning some terrible act of terror. No matter how far-seeing and competent our intelligence and law-enforcement officials, people will always be able to slip through the cracks in a large, open and diverse country. The real test of American leadership is not whether we can make 100 percent sure we prevent the attack, but rather how we respond to it. Stephen Flynn, a homeland-security expert at the Council on Foreign Relations, argues that our goal should be resilience—how quickly can we bounce back from a disruption? In the materials sciences, he points out, resilience is the ability of a material to recover its original shape after a deformation. If one day bombs do go off, we must ensure that they cause as little disruption—economic, social, political—as possible. This would deprive the terrorist of his main objective. If we are not terrorized, then in a crucial sense we have defeated terrorism...

To recover its place in the world, America first needs to recover its confidence. For those who look at the future and see challenges, competition and threats, keep in mind that this new world has been forming over the last 20 years, and the United States has forged ahead amid all the turmoil. In 1980, the U.S. share of global GDP was 20 percent. Today it is 29 percent. We lead the world in technology and research. Our firms have found enormous success in new markets overseas. We continue to generate new products, new brands, new companies and new industries...

Perhaps the most hopeful sign for the United States is that alone among industrial nations, we will not have a shortage of productive citizens in the decades ahead. Unlike Germany, Japan and even China, we should have more than enough workers to grow the economy and sustain the elderly population. This is largely thanks to immigration. If America has a core competitive advantage, it is this: every year we take in more immigrants than the rest of the world put together...

I have no magic formula to stop Iran from going nuclear, nor to change Iran's regime. But the strategy we have adopted against so many troublesome countries over the last few decades—sanction, isolate, ignore, chastise—has simply not worked...

At the end of the day, openness is America's greatest strength. Many people on both sides of the political aisle have ideas that they believe will keep America strong in this new world—fences, tariffs, subsidies, investments. But America has succeeded not because of the ingenuity of its government programs. It has thrived because it has kept itself open to the world—to goods and services, ideas and inventions, people and cultures. This openness has allowed us to respond fast and flexibly in new economic times, to manage change and diversity with remarkable ease, and to push forward the boundaries of freedom and autonomy.

Our openness, our adherence to the rule of law, our dedication to the idea of liberty for all, these are not weaknesses as George Bush, Dick Cheney, and their Republican cheerleaders would have us believe. They are instead the core of our strength, the very things that make us admired by the good and hated by the evil. That is why Guantanamo and Abu Ghraib, torture and war, walls and fear-mongering, illegal wiretapping and the Unitary Executive, are such bad, impractical, foolish, misguided and dangerous ideas. We have shrugged off the mantle of Superman, fighting for Truth, Justice, and the American Way, and assumed the guise of The Punisher, looking to the barrel of a gun to solve all our problems and scorning the very principles that made us great.

We can do better. We must do better. And I think Zakaria is dead-on about how we go about doing that. I strongly encourage you to read the entire original article in its entirety.

Another Trip 'Round The Sun

2007-06-02T10:15:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I turned 38 years of age, which means I'm not old yet but I can see it looming on the horizon like a brick road on the highway of life.

When you turn 30 it's not a big deal, you can still think of yourself as in your (very) late 20's, which is still in your prime. As the 30's go on, you keep holding onto that idea of yourself, until you hit the tipping point at 35. But then, hey, 35's halfway, that's just as close to the 20's as it is to the 40's, so no big whoop, right?

Then you sort of stop thinking about it for a few years, because 36 and 37 are still closer to 35 than to 40, so in effect you're still really only halfway between 20 and 40, so why not just think of yourself as still in your late 20's?

But that changes at 38. The relentless march of math means that you can't pretend any more, 40's sitting there just two years ahead of you, waiting to jump on you and pound your ass like that bouncer at the strip club when you got too rowdy at the bachelor party.

All of my siblings are at least 4 years older than I am, so they're past the 40 year mark. That makes it fun to tell them "Just two more years till I'm old!" Proving, I guess, that no matter your age you're always the little brother, ready to be a brat at the drop of a hat.

I don't really think of 40 as old, of course. Not any more. I did when I was younger, but I'm learning that the older you get, the further away old gets. I'll wager that I could be sitting on the porch at 90, thinking "Thank goodness I'm not 110 yet, now those buggers are old! Oh drat, I wet myself again."

Introvert or Asshole?

2007-05-31T20:22:00.000-05:00

What differentiates an introvert from an asshole?

I ask this not to be sarcastic, but because I don't think I know anymore. I've always considered myself a pretty hard introvert, using that to excuse how draining I find interaction with others, my sometimes short temper, my occasional impatience with kids, and other such anti-social tendencies. But then today it occurred to me that this kind of behavior is virtually indistinguishable from your ordinary, run-of-the-mill asshole. If we didn't have a fancy term like "introvert" (or "INFP" if you like your fanciness Meyers-Briggs style), I'd probably just be written off as a cantankerous, crusty old jerk. Mothers would hustle their children away from me, neighbors would be stiffly polite while searching for the nearest exit point, and I'd never interact with anyone.

Hey, wait -- that's how things are NOW. See? Introvert, asshole, there doesn't seem to be much distance between those concepts at this point. I'm worried that as time goes on I'm going to end up sitting in a cave up on a mountain, shunned by all decent humans, shaking my fist and yelling "You kids get the hell off my hill!" as the goats gambol by.

The Utah Deron Williamses Vs. The San Antonio Not Deron Williamses

2007-05-28T22:47:00.000-05:00

Tonight Deron Williams, the greatest point guard to ever play professional basketball, simultaneously scored all of his team's points, defended every player from San Antonio, manned all five positions, delivered a baby on the sidelines during a timeout, filled beer orders in the concession stand, and coached the team, at least according to the broadcast I watched.

Unfortunately, Williams was unavailable for comment after the glorious, transcendent game because he was trying to get commentators Mark Jackson, Jeff Van Gundy, and Mike Breen shaken loose from his jock strap.

Seemingly lost amid the love, the San Antonio Not Deron Williamses won the game, but that's a very minor, some might say negligible, point. The fact that they scored more points should only underscore the brilliance that is young Mr. Williams who, if we haven't mentioned it before, is the Greatest Man Ever To Play Basketball.

The broadcast was also marred by one of the most awkward moments in recent sports broadcasting history I can recall. Play by play man Mike Breen was pointing out that the Utah Deron Williamses had faced elimination twice already in the playoffs, winning both contests against the Houston Not Deron Williamses. "But that," Breen said, "was against a much lesser opponent."

Sitting right next to Breen at the broadcast table all night, including when he made this comment? The coach of that very same "lesser opponent", Jeff Van Gundy.

Ouch.

If he's not careful, Breen's going to end up with Van Gundy velcroed to his leg before the series is over and Deron Williams will have to use his Nobel Prize for Point Guarding medal to break it up.

Biology and Morality: Neuroscience the Next Front in the Religion vs. Science Wars?

2007-05-28T19:27:00.000-05:00

Digby linked to an article in the Washington Post today titled "If It Feels Good to Be Good, It Might Be Only Natural" that presages what I believe will be the next major cultural conflict between science and religion: neuroscience.

Grafman and others are using brain imaging and psychological experiments to study whether the brain has a built-in moral compass. The results -- many of them published just in recent months -- are showing, unexpectedly, that many aspects of morality appear to be hard-wired in the brain, most likely the result of evolutionary processes that began in other species.

No one can say whether giraffes and lions experience moral qualms in the same way people do because no one has been inside a giraffe's head, but it is known that animals can sacrifice their own interests: One experiment found that if each time a rat is given food, its neighbor receives an electric shock, the first rat will eventually forgo eating.

What the new research is showing is that morality has biological roots -- such as the reward center in the brain that lit up in Grafman's experiment -- that have been around for a very long time.

The more researchers learn, the more it appears that the foundation of morality is empathy. Being able to recognize -- even experience vicariously -- what another creature is going through was an important leap in the evolution of social behavior. And it is only a short step from this awareness to many human notions of right and wrong ...

You would be hard pressed to find a subject most people would consider more firmly entrenched in the religious magisteria than morality. Why we should act the way we do is, I would argue, just about the most fundamental question religion can answer, at least in terms of its practical impact on everyday life. And now science is beginning to tell us that it has something to say on the subject after all.

Eventually, as research into the biological foundations of human behavior and thought continues, we'll probably end up right where we are today with evolution. There will be a few religious fundamentalist holdouts who reject everything science has to teach us about the world. There will be a few atheists who loudly trumpet this as evidence that God does not exist. And the vast majority will simply shrug their shoulders, understanding that no matter what we learn about the workings of the universe, we're not going to change our minds about what it all means anyway. Theistic moderates will simply claim that "This is how God chose to do it", and atheist moderates will say "Yet again we see that God is not necessary to explain anything, but feel free to believe that if it makes you feel better."

And somewhere, Ken Ham will open an "Anti-Neuroscience Museum", bilking his gullible followers out of millions. THAT you can bank on.

Annie: The Perfect Day

2007-05-26T08:14:00.000-05:00

Annie asked me to post this for her, and I think you'll see why I love her so.

Have you ever had a truly perfect day? I've been lucky to have many, many fine days. I never really gave much thought to what constitutes a perfect day. Until today. I had a truly perfect day.

Radar Swimming

Jeff Soaking

Charity Foundering

Annie & Echo Lounging

In my mind, a perfect day would involve loads of chocolate, fine wine, a great day with horses and dogs and then my hubbie would saunter in and ask which chick flick I wanted to watch together that evening. I would say: that one that requires buckets of tears because it is so touching. He'd say "Alright! Just what I wanted to watch . . . Or we could just watch a few Tivo-ed episodes of Oprah together if you would prefer."

Today though, none of that happened. But it was still perfect. Here's why.

We're in the middle of a drought-ending rain. The joy of seeing our creek jump its banks and flow madly through the property, that is pure joy. The wildflowers are almost obscene in their abundance this year, after hardly anything but ugly, hardy weeds for the past two years. Grass is growing so tall, so thick that our menagerie of horses, donkeys and sheep can't make a dent in it. The county just to our north got almost 8 inches of rain yesterday. That raised our local lake to normal levels. The lake had been so low that boat docks were useless and sat sickeningly flat on dry land, where once they had ebbed and flowed with the currents.

Nature has been stingy in the last few years. It was too hot and too dry. No rain in sight. People around here ran out of hay for their livestock. Wells ran dry. Old-timers said the drought was worse now than the horrific drought throughout the 1950s. No one could recall a time so dry.

But this spring the clouds opened up and the rains came. If you hadn't lived though the drought and hadn't of watched animals -- both wild and domesticated -- suffer for it, you might be cursing the flooding rains we have now. This lesson of nature -- of gratitude -- was my first thump on the head today. It's muddy, the fence lines have been trummeled once again and require fixing from the swollen creek, but the drought is over. Gratitude.

Also today, my favorite jenny donkey came up lame. She's ornery and opinionated and gets what she wants. I like that in a person just as much as I like it in a donkey. She was limping so badly we thought her knee was broken. Generally speaking, when a four legged equine breaks a leg, it means almost certain death. I waited with the jenny, named Charity, while Jeff hiked all the way back home and called the small town horse vet. The good doctor was able to come out this evening. While I waited, Charity was so patient. She just was waiting alongside me. She didn't know the vet was coming, and coming for her. She didn't know that he had life ending drugs with him, in case her injury was that severe. She was just waiting, eating grass, swatting flies, hanging with me patiently. I realized that I could sit there and weep and be miserable for what may have to happen in the next few minutes . . .or I could help her swat the flies and let her graze and live with her -- to the fullest -- in that moment. She was in deep pain, but accepted the situation and didn't struggle and didn't complain. She trusted me to help her. And we did.

We got lucky. Charity got lucky. She had foundered again, an odd hoof condition that causes horrible pain when the bone in the hoof rotates unnaturally. She would get through this, as she had before. The good doctor gave her some pain medicine, but the life ending drugs stayed packed up in his bag. Another day was granted to this sweet donkey. Gratitude.

As the day winds down, and the sheep have stopped baa-ing and are happy in their barn; as the horses are put up in their barn and out of the rain; as the 5 dogs lie happily asleep by our feet; as the once dry creek bed roars to life; as I sit here tonight in awe of nature and her strength, I realize that this is the conclusion of a perfect day.

I have heard of a dear friend who lost a beloved dog today. I have walked that long walk many times and I know it can happen to one of my own dogs any day. I have carried with me -- today and every day -- the sorrow of my birth family's unrest and stonewalled silence. I have learned of people suffering horrible fates to cancers or murders or war on the evening news. I know the world can be a sorry place. A sad place of pain and loss and of death. A place so dry the land cracks for lack of rain.

But today, an ordinary day, I feel the depth of gratitude for just being here. For sharing my life in the country with the man of my dreams. I know almost all of my animals will pass before me, in front of me. I know Charity got lucky and got help because we could afford to help her; and we noticed her pain. I know people I love dearly will be felled by sickness and dis-ease. I know I will go too, one day. But Charity and the rain and the Border Collie's jumping with glee over the creek and my husband leading the vet through the tall grasses and the over the creek to help this little donkey in need . . .all of these things made today a perfect day.

The sorrow for animals or people who are sick or who have passed hit me in the gut today. But the quality of life that we all get to enjoy -- if we choose to live in the moment -- is astounding. I feel blessed to have witnesses it all today -- the pain and sorrow and the joy and the kindness and the love that it all here all the time.

I hope you too have a perfect day. Every day.

The Manliness Scale

2007-05-26T03:06:00.000-05:00

Last week as I was hurtling my way back to Texas from New York aboard a giant metal tube at several hundred miles per hour, my wife was face to face with a six foot rattlesnake.

I don't know why these things happen when I am away from the house, but they certainly seem to do so with startling regularity. We've had dogs shot, snakes attack, and water pipes burst on those rare occasions when I vacate the premises. Perhaps I have some secret, unsuspected power over nature, the ability to bend probability to my own advantage so that I'm rarely exposed to such things.

In any event, I was not here to help with the six foot rattlesnake, slithering through our back yard much to the displeasure of our dogs, who were leaping straight up into the air and barking ferociously. That's what alerted Annie to the problem, and it didn't take long after her rush to the yard to hear the dreaded rattling sound. Somehow she managed to call the dogs off without any of them getting bitten, which is pretty amazing. And luckily our farrier (horse hoof guy) Gil was on-site. She asked him if he'd shoot the snake, but in his British accent he brushed aside such vulgarity.

No, Gil's what you call a "Real Man" -- he picked the rattler up with his bare hands, shoved it in a sack, and drove it off for release far away. I wouldn't be surprised to find out he milked it for anti-venom along the way. With his teeth.

Gil had definitely set the gold standard for The Manliness Scale. Gripping a deadly reptile longer than he was is a hard act to follow, but I vowed I'd somehow live up to it. Little did I know I'd get my chance a scant three days later, as I got up close and personal with a black widow spider.

I had gone into the small area where we keep the water softener, and near the back saw a spider web. Drawing closer, I saw the baneful red hourglass leap off the black abdomen of the arachnid lurking there. My mind flashed back to Gil's example, how manly his actions were, and what would be expected of a proper Texas rancher.

So I picked up a shovel and skooshed it.

OK, so when it comes to the handling of poisonous creatures, Gil used his hands on a six footer and I had to use a shovel on something less than half an inch in size. I'm not proud of my reaction. But I didn't scream like a little girl, or at least no one heard me. And I'm pretty sure I didn't soil myself at any point.

All of which, taken into account, at this point means the "Manliness Scale" goes like this:

Gil
Annie
The dogs
The donkeys
The cat
The sheep
Me
Wildflowers

I'm movin' up, baby!

Dwarfbot!

2007-05-23T10:32:00.000-05:00

Sometimes when you do a set of illustrations for a client, not all of the drawings make it into the final product. As an example, HERO Games (the guys who make Champions) commissioned a bunch of artists, including me, to create illustrations for their "Aliens" book. One of my assignments was to draw the sale of a robot. Other than that, the details were up to me, so I decided to portray a grizzled space vet purchasing a 'bot designed for mining operations. As I got started, it occurred to me that fantasy dwarves are well known as experts in mining, and so the robot turned into a mechanized version of Gimli. Here he his spotlighted:

I loved the way he turned out. Even today, years later, this drawing makes me chuckle. Something about his little metallic beard and those angry eyebrows -- man, I just kill myself sometimes.

As I said, though, sometimes the complete composition never makes it to publication, and that's what happened in this case. I believe they had accidentally assigned the scene to two different guys, and the other one came in first so it's the one that made it in. As a result, you get to see it here in Nerd Country for the very first time!

I'm still trying to figure out how to work one of the donkeys into an illustration, I'll be sure to let you know if I manage it.

Baby Got Back

2007-05-21T22:39:00.000-05:00

I knew I had returned to Nerd Country from New York City when I had my head almost shoved into a sheep's butt while shearing it.

Not 24 hours earlier I'd been breakfasting in a chic NYC deli on Broadway (scrambled eggs with tomato and salmon on foccacia bread, thank you very much), and yet at 10:00 on Saturday morning I found myself wrestling with Chubby the sheep. (The juvenile among you can now insert your own "Jeff got a Chubby while messing with his sheep" joke here. There now, feel better? Good.) His coat had not been sheared the year before, and it had gotten to truly Bob Marley-esque proportions, looking like some dreadlock-ridden Bubba Gone Wild. He was miserable in the heat, and the brutal 100-degree stretch hadn't even started yet.

So Annie got on Craig's List and put out a call for anyone willing to come teach us how to fleece a sheep. Taylor, a local high school student, answered and agreed to come out. Miraculously, Annie had a horse clinic to attend on the appointed day, leaving yours truly on sheep-wrangling duty. Luckily Chubby is pretty friendly, so between Taylor, her mom, and me we got him haltered and tied to a post in the barn.

Now, for the record, sheep don't much like being sheared. I can't blame them, the electric blades are kind of loud, and being tied up without a "safe word" isn't much fun. Plus, you know, sheep are pretty much born looking for a place to die, so they're scared of most anything. I don't believe electric shears resemble a cougar, but you never know what the world looks like to an herbivore.

Taylor brought three sets of shears, which is good because they get overheated very quickly, especially with a coat as thick as Chubby's. After three hours we had him mostly done, leaving just the neck and his belly for comfort while lying down. I got the privilege of doing his rear end, as I mentioned earlier, and believe me, there are few things more fun than holding down a sheep while trying to apply a buzzing, clacking, black set of shears to his holiest of holies. I'm pretty sure I need to go to confession now.

Anyway, since Chubby was done we had a choice -- call it a day or go for the Twin who had a pretty thick coat of its own. I say "its own" because, frankly, I don't know how to sex a sheep. (Yes yes, "Get it on the fence first," very funny. Go away.) Whatever its gender, the Twin had about half its fleece still stubbornly clinging on, and being a guy I said, "Well, we're here anyway, might as well give it a shot."

Ten minutes later, as I flung myself bodily through the air and landed with a thud on the Twin while it desperately tried to escape, my glasses crushed somewhere in the poop-laden pasture, I started rethinking my sticktoitiveness. Taylor gamely slipped the halter on, but as soon as I got to my feet, off ran the Twin.

Ten minutes after THAT, I finally gave up. One more flying tackle let us get the halter off, and for all I care the Twin can sweat to death. At least this time I didn't pull a muscle chasing livestock around the place. They say sheep aren't very bright, but last I checked, I was the one with broken glasses, skinned arms, and a face full of butt-wool while the sheep were contentedly grazing.

Just another day in Nerd Country, miles -- and worlds -- away from New York City. It's good to be back.

My Father-In-Law on Katie Couric

2007-05-16T12:52:00.000-05:00

George Phenix is my father-in-law and he writes a damn good piece of journalism. He's also great with quips, observations, drinkin' stories, and insight, and the New York Observer just ran a quote from him in their piece about Katie Couric:

George Phenix, the founder of the Texas Weekly—who in 1963, while on assignment for a CBS affiliate in Dallas, filmed Jack Ruby shooting Lee Harvey Oswald—said that if anyone should lose patience, it’s Ms. Couric.

“I think it’s naïve to blame all of CBS’s woes on her,” said Mr. Phenix. “It began with Dan Rather—nothing much they can do. I think she’s the wrong person for the wrong time. That doesn’t mean that in the future, it might not work. But I want my anchors to be ugly like Roger Mudd, and have brass balls like Mike Wallace. And I think good looks just get in the way. It makes the mind wander. If I were Katie, I’d take the money and run.”

I think we could all use with a healthy dose of Mike Wallace's brass balls right about now, thanks George.

Off to the Big City

2007-05-15T13:57:00.000-05:00

I catch a plane in a few hours to New York City for business, and I don't have a laptop, so odds are there won't be much to see here until Friday night at the earliest. In the meantime, please allow me to recommend a couple of my favorite daily blogs to amuse you:

Chris's Invincible Super-Blog
The Comics Curmudgeon

Have fun! I hope I can find where to park the horse while in NYC ...

Spider Man 3 Review - Or, "Son of the Mask"

2007-05-13T09:27:00.000-05:00

Am I a bad person if I want to punch Aunt May in the stomach?

We went to see "Spider-Man 3" yesterday, and my basic take on it was put both succinctly and perfectly in 1983 by Berkley Breathed in his "Bloom County" strip (click for a larger and more legible version):

My much more long-winded and rant-filled diatribe of a review is after the jump, however it contains many spoilers. If you haven't seen Spider-Man 3 yet, therefore, do not click on the "Read More" link, it will spoil the movie for you! The rest of this posts assumes you have already seen the film, so you're forewarned!

It wasn't until after the first third of the movie that my flesh started to crawl. Prior to that I was having a pretty good time -- Spidey slugs it out with "The New Goblin" (Worst Villain Name Ever, it sounds like a new mini-car from Hyndai), there's some good character interaction, bada boom bada bing, we got us a super-hero movie here!

And then things started to get stupid.

First, this alien meteorite lands right next to where MJ and Peter are necking in the woods. Do either of them notice a loud explosion? Or see the bright light from the reentry or the landing, even though they're both ostensibly star-gazing? Of course not.

Meanwhile the black alien snot, completely unfazed by forcible, flaming penetration of the atmosphere and sudden impact with terra firma, crawls from its fortuitous landing spot and finds two suitable human hosts. Surely after its long journey and calamitous arrival it's peckish, one would think, being a symbiont and all, but no! Apparently it has super-restraint and super-patience, because it gamely leaps not onto the waiting flesh of MJ or Peter, but instead to the license plate of their motorbike. Foregoing the the doorman and the other five million New Yorkers passed on the way to the apartment, the snot leaps from the plate to Peter's person, but somehow still resists the urge to merge for a number of days, lurking about until juuuuuuust the right moment.

Which is the first time I really started to wonder -- where in the Hell is Spider-Man's spider-sense? It's one of the signature powers of the character, the reason he's able to avoid so much danger and harm; he senses trouble before it hits. So why isn't it tingling immediately when the meteor hits? Why doesn't it go off when it starts creeping up on him? Why doesn't it warn him to avoid getting smacked upside the head over and over and over and over again throughout the movie? At first I thought maybe the producers decided to write the concept completely out of the movie, but later the Goblin makes reference to it. What gives?

In any event, the film abruptly gets taken over by "The Mask" movie, with Peter Parker suddenly channeling Jim Carey, literally dancing up and down the street, fingers popping and hair rakishly combed down over his eyes. The entire sequence (hell, the whole conceit of the "Costume Element Leading to Out of Control Psychoses") is lifted complete from that series, the only thing missing were eyes bugging out comically and a character who could turn into anything. Oh wait, there's The Sandman, my bad -- it is indeed a complete and utter rip-off.

Around this time Aunt May pops in with one of her nauseating, direct-from-the-pulpit sermons, this time about revenge taking over or something, I can't remember because I was consumed with an all-powerful urge to leap through the screen and punch her in the stomach repeatedly until she SHUT THE HELL UP ALREADY!! Criminey, I got enough of that crap in the first two movies, why doesn't she just open her own church already and leave us all alone? I'm starting to suspect Uncle Ben got begged to get shot just so he wouldn't have to listen to her hectoring any more.

Speaking of Uncle Ben we learn, through convenient flashbacks and the hiring of a much bigger-named actor that his murderer was really The Sandman, who despite having the ability to change his shape at will seems unwilling to fix his jug ears or get a decent shirt. This is the same criminal who's so stupid he can't figure out how, even given the ability to essentially dematerialize, to rob something that's not already surrounded by guards. Honestly, why not just slide under the vault door of the bank at night, nab the most valuable small jewelry items from the safe deposit boxes, hide as a pile of sand in the corner, slip out when the day shift opens, and walk out in human shape? Or stack thousand dollar bills in his shoes and reform as a slightly taller guy? Or any one of a thousand other things that would occur to even a simpleton after the first ten minutes of thinking about it? But nooooooo, Mr. Sandman (apparently still angry at being named after a 50's pop song) thinks to himself "Hey, there's an armored car surrounded by armed guards in the middle of daytime Manhattan, what a perfect opportunity!"

And if he's so damned sorry and haunted by what happened to Ben Parker those many moons ago, if all he wants is understanding, then why the hell does he throw in with Venom to kill Spider-Man? Shouldn't be be planning a robbery in another part of the state, where maybe there aren't so many super-heroes? Wouldn't that be a more cost-effective way of getting the money to save his little girl than spending a day trying to kill Spider-Man? Couldn't he have just left a note for Spider-Man saying "Hey pal, sorry about offing your uncle, it was totally an accident. Ta! I'm off to rob a bank in a smaller town now."

Look, I'm a simple man, I don't ask much from my super-hero movies. I just ask that they not insult my intelligence. And that the hero not reveal his secret identity to every. Single. Person. He meets. Especially his enemies! Is there anyone in the entire city of New York at this point who doesn't know Spider-Man's secret identity? Or is it only the ones who want to kill him or marry him that are in on it? Honestly, Parker himself at one point is standing on a rooftop above a square filled with people there to meet him, who in turn are surrounded by TV and still cameras, and he's watching with his mask off! Honestly! It's right there on the front page of the "How to be a Super-Hero" manual, don't take your effing mask off in front of an effing crowd if you don't want every Tom Dick and Harry coming after your relatives and loved ones with guns a-blazing!

And then there's the crying. Oh sweet Jeebus the crying. Aunt May tells Peter about when she got engaged, and there's crying. Peter gets snubbed by MJ at the restaurant, crying. MJ gets fired, crying. Harry looks at his father's portrait, Peter beats Venom, Peter loses to Venom, Peter meets Sandman, Sandman meets daughter, a puppy crosses the street, there's been more than five minutes since the last time someone cried, CUE THE WATERWORKS! I can only hope that given Sandman's vulnerability to water that Peter was secretly ramping up the Tear Production for their next encounter, because I swear, if he started bawling one more time I was gonna kill him myself. There was more bawling in this movie than in "Divine Secrets of the YaYa Sisterhood" and "Terms of Endearment" combined. I kept waiting for a puppy to get strangled on-screen, the director was so intent on forcing some kind of emotional response out of the audience.

Speaking of the directing, it was so heavy-handed I wanted to scream. Spidey leaps and lands in front of a blowing American flag while a spirited voice-over extols his virtues! New Yorkers clap and cheer their hero! The soundtrack swells with sappy music!

Gag me.

I had just gotten over the blatant takeover of the movie by the spirit of "The Mask" when suddenly "Robo-Cop" intruded in the form of the smarmy television reporter/anchor combo voice-over reporting on the capture of MJ at the end. Who the hell is this Australian chick? Why am I listening to someone report on a story when I was already, through the magic of the movies, watching the very story she is reporting on?! And correct me if I'm wrong, but since both Sandman and Venom know who Peter Parker is at this point, why do they have to resort to television reporters to tell him they've got MJ? Couldn't they have sent him a note? That seems like a better plan -- what if Peter's cable was out? What if he was in the lab all day working on a project and didn't see the news? A gigantic, public spectacle like that is appropriate for when you don't know how to get in touch with your nemesis, but they have his frickin' address. Just drop by and leave a message with the stereotypically freakish foreign landlord.

In short, this movie made me want to hurl objects at the screen. My theory of super-hero movies, sadly, stands confirmed with this release. Namely:

"In any super-hero or sci-fi movie series, no matter how long it is, you only get two good films. The rest will suck."

With the original Superman series, you got I and II for your good movies, the rest were crap. Batman I and II were both good, the rest were crap. Star Trek II and IV were good, the rest were crap. X-Men 1 & 2 good, 3 was crap.

And sadly, the same is true for Spider-Man 3. Too many villains, too many stories, too much schmaltz, and way way way WAY too many tears. I'd like to wind this film up in a web and stick it under a table where it belongs.

Hobbesian Friday: Saturday Edition

2007-05-12T08:11:00.000-05:00

I achieved a lower state of consciousness today by drinking margaritas last night and eating a whole plate of nachos virtually by myself (Annie's meager handful of chips doesn't count). Which explains why Hobbesian Friday didn't take place yesterday and why I have a lower state of consciousness today, better known as a "hangover". Ugh. I should've stuck with cartoons and cereal like Calvin.

The Big Worm

2007-05-10T19:43:00.000-05:00

As part of my recent transition to working from home (or NOT working as the case may be) I switched computers. In the course of doing that I uncovered some old images I'd thought lost forever, which is kind of like finding twenty bucks in your coat pocket you forgot about last winter. One of my favorites is this black and white ink sketch of a giant rock worm creature rampaging through the scenic downtown of your average Midwest American hamlet.

See, in the same day I get beautiful rainbows and giant rampaging rock worms. Life in Nerd Country keeps you on your toes, that's for sure.

Spring Showers and Rainbows

2007-05-10T19:00:00.000-05:00

One of those glorious, short May showers just blew through this afternoon, leaving in its wake startling blue skies and a spectacular double rainbow. I took some photos that I think came out great, and wanted to share them with you. This is the kind of view you just can't get anywhere else but the country.

This was taken from our back porch. If you look closely you can see the faint double-rainbow over the main one. Just an amazing sight, especially with our back yard full of Texas wildflowers.

Radar the border collie looks back at the amazing colors in the sky. I bet he thinks the clouds look like sheep.

Jillkey the donkey gets into Spring a little too much -- note the hay garland she's made for herself around her neck.

My own special honey-pot at the end of the rainbow!

Hog Wild on Iron Man

2007-05-09T19:11:00.000-05:00

Apparently I have something of an "Iron Man" obsession, because this is the second random drawing of him I've done lately (here's the other one).

I actually had a drawing of a guy on a motorcycle shooting a gun, and as I was coloring it slowly morphed into Iron Man on a motorcycle shooting a gun. Why is Iron Man riding a motorcycle instead of using his flight boots? Why is he shooting a gun instead of using his repulsor beams? Because it's cool, that's why. If that's enough of a justification for a multi-million dollar load of codswallop like "Civil War" then it's good enough for this lowly blog, chum.

As you can see it's only half colored. I'm not sure whether I am going to finish it or not; it's taking quite a bit of time and I'm not sure it's sufficiently fun to complete. Maybe if someone can give me a good reason why Iron Man should be on a BMW motorcycle I'll get motivated.

The Nostalgia of Bigotry

2007-05-08T13:10:00.000-05:00

When we were coming home from church one Sunday, many years ago while I was still a young boy, we passed by a street corner filled with white-clad men in hoods. They were handing out literature, little locally-produced pamphlets announcing a fish fry or whatnot to support the KKK.

My father made some remark that was supportive of them and their aims. Specifics are lost to the fog of memory, but I remember my mom making a "tsking" sound and admonishing him, telling him to quit kidding.

But those men under the hoods weren't kidding. They were all smiles and handshakes, but what drove them to put on the robes was hatred, honestly held and unashamedly advocated. I doubt they even thought of themselves as bigots; in their own minds they were sober, right-thinking, upstanding men out to save a nation from the Black Scourge. They had their literature filled with "scientific" studies showing how inferior the Black Man was to the White, how they were planning on mingling with the superior races to corrupt America, and how the KKK and the fine individuals filling it were the only lookouts on the hill sounding the alarm.

For a long time I think my father felt some kinship with them, the white-robed bigots who thought they were doing the rest of the world a favor, who thought so highly of their own moral sense and the clear evidence of their eyes that they were willing to stand up in public and pass out their pamphlets.

One thing that is absolutely clear, however, is that he was ultimately able to overcome whatever feelings of racism he might have had. The great equalizer for him was his experience dealing with alcoholism. He conquered it with the help of Alcoholics Anonymous and remained sober for an astonishing number of years, but he struggled with its call every day. It was the humbling weight of that burden, I suspect, that made him understand that people are just people underneath it all; a White man is no more able to fight alcoholism alone than a Black man. At the end of the day they're both just drunks trying desperately not to have one more drink, and that absolutely transcends skin color. He dedicated his life to helping anyone -- Black, White, or Purple -- defeat that demon.

His funeral was attended by a large number of people of all races, people he'd helped with their addictions as a counselor, lives he'd touched in the most profound way. That's what makes me think he was also able to overcome the bigotry he was weaned on growing up in Louisiana, which still lived on in the form of those white-clad men on the corner I saw while coming home from church decades later, when I was just a boy.

What do we do when confronted with bigotry up close and personal? What is our obligation to our fellow man, both those who are in the hated class and those who but stand by idly on the sidelines? Is it better to speak out and rage, or to work quietly and show them the error of their ways through the example of our lives?

Although I understand and applaud those who are outspoken, militant activists, my nature is to do the latter, because in my experience there is no argument so persuasive as a life well-lived in honor and goodness. I know that personally, I first learned that the racism I'd been taught growing up was wrong when I enrolled in (and graduated from) an inner-city, 85% Black high school and got to know them as human beings instead of stereotypes. Contrary to what I'd been led to believe, they were people just like me beneath their skin, as capable of both greatness and meanness as I was, as full of love and hate as I was, as intelligent and stupid as the best or worst of my white friends.

The same thing happened in college with regards to homosexuals, whom I'd been taught growing up were among the most twisted, evil, horrible people ever to exist. I wasn't even allowed to watch "Three's Company" because Jack Tripper pretended to be gay. "But Dad," I'd say, "he's not actually gay!" That didn't matter, though; apparently even the appearance of anything homosexual was enough to cause irreparable harm in the viewer. Archie Bunker's hate-filled bigotry was Must See TV, but Jack Tripper's pretend gayness was verboten.

And yet, just like in high school, when I got to actually know some gay people, they too were just regular people. Good, bad, smart, stupid, kind, hateful, they ran the same gamut of humanity as any straight people I'd ever met. They just happened to be attracted to their own gender, but that didn't make them evil.

And so another inherited bigotry fell to the wayside. Again and again, every time I came to actually know someone from a group I'd been taught was evil, I learned that they were not.

Every time.

And so I came to understand that people are simply people, no matter the color of their skin, the orientation of their sexuality, the tenor of their faith, or the country of their origin. I distrust those who try to tell me that anyone different from me is evil, or inherently twisted, or irredeemably wicked just by virtue of that difference, because that kind of bigotry has been proven wrong time and time again right in front of my eyes. There is no more powerful a refutation of hatred and bigotry than personal experience. Showing someone through the living example of your own life how wrong they are to hate is far more convincing than any book, any movie, any argument could ever be.

I sometimes despair that it will do any good, because once it takes root, bigotry and hatred are extremely hard to dislodge. But my father did it, and that gives me hope. He got to know Black people as simply people, and in the end he came to love them. I hope that eventually more and more people will come to do the same with their own demons of bigotry and hatred as well, whether it's in regards to homosexuals, Muslims, atheists, or minorities.

At least, that's what I tell myself when I read yet another hate-filled screed disguised as compassion, yet one more "scientific study" proving why They are different and evil, one more well-reasoned and morally bankrupt justification for why it's all right, really, to hate each other. I get depressed for a bit, and then I get thoughtful, and then I get pissed, and then I get peaceful. At the end of the day, all I have to really throw in the way of the bigotry is my life, simply led and honestly open.

I hope, one day, it's enough.

At What Cost "Victory"?

2007-05-08T12:42:00.000-05:00

Andrew Sullivan, conservative Catholic blogger and initially a vociferous war supporter, has in the last year or two come to realize what a costly mistake Iraq has been for the United States. His column today is, in my opinion, a must-read, as he finally comes to consider what the cost to America has been at home. I'll post a lengthy except after the jump:

At home, the public has come to accept torture as a legitimate instrument of government, something that the Founding Fathers would have been aghast at. We have come to accept that the president is not bound by habeas corpus, if he decides he isn't. He can sign laws and say they don't apply to him. We know that an American citizen can be detained for years without charges and tortured and abused - and then critical evidence of his torture will be "lost". We have come to accept our phones being tapped without a warrant and without our even knowing about it. These huge surrenders of liberty have occurred without much public outcry. When the next major terrorist attack comes, the question will simply be how much liberty Americans have left. That is a victory al Qaeda could not have achieved by force of arms. It is something they have achieved with our witting and conscious help.

In reassessing the war, in other words, the moral cost to America must come into the equation. The Iraq war has removed for a generation the concept of the U.S. military being an unimpeachable source of national honor. It has infringed civil liberties. It has legalized and institutionalized torture as a government tool - and helped abuse and brutality metastasize throughout the field of conflict. To be sure, abuse of captives always happens in wartime. What's different now is that the commander-in-chief has authorized and legitimized it, and so the contagion has spread like wildfire. The tragedy is that none of this will help us actually win this war. By alienating so many Iraqis, the occupation has badly damaged American soft-power in the world. It has alienated many allies. It has exhausted the military itself. It has failed to quell an insurgency. History also teaches us that success against such an insurgency in such a country would require over a decade of a brutal war of attrition.

The question we have to ask is: if this is the way we achieve victory, what kind of country would America be at the end of it? To paraphrase Robert Bolt, it profit a man nothing if he gain the whole world and lose his soul. But for Iraq?

It's selfish, but to me this has been the saddest chapter in the Iraq War saga, that we as a nation have taken such large and drastic steps along the road to becoming that which we long considered evil. When I was growing up, the Soviet Union was the Bad Guy, building walls between nations, crushing native opposition beneath the treads of their tanks, torturing captured enemies in secret gulags far from the rule of law.

Now, we are the ones doing those very same things. And very few Americans seem to care. Are we that afraid of terrorists? Are we that gutless and weak, that we are willing to throw away the very freedoms we're supposedly fighting to protect? What has happened to our sense of moral outrage that such deep and fundamental changes pass without comment?

On Being Pluto

2007-05-07T21:53:00.000-05:00

I'm not sure why, but I was thinking about Pluto today. Last year it was demoted from a full-fledged planet to a "dwarf planet", which I imagine was a crushing blow to its mother.

What occurred to me was, Pluto doesn't particularly care what we call it. It's still Pluto, a hunk of frozen whatnot orbiting the Sun. Whether we call it a planet or a dwarf or a Flooboozle is irrelevant to its actual nature; it is what it is. Calling it names doesn't really change anything.

I think in our zeal to classify everything and our obsession with putting the universe into neat, understood little categories, we forget that:

The world is what it is.

Maybe it was seeing the Monarch butterfly chrysalis that prompted this thought. No matter what brief slice of time we happen to catch the Monarch in, whether it's a caterpillar or a pupae or a full-fledged butterfly, it is what it is right at that moment. Is the little creature inside that shell a crawler or a flier? Or is it somewhere in between? We're not good as a species at things that defy neat classification. Gray is seldom "in".

Or maybe it was thinking about some recent comments here about atheists. Whether you call a man immoral or moral, good or bad, kind or cruel, he is what he is. Nothing anyone says is going to alter the reality of his objective truth as a being. If he's good, he's good, and calling him bad won't change that.

Applying labels to everything makes us feel better, but I think we're just kidding ourselves. Sometimes words get in the way, making us see the idea of a thing rather than the thing itself.

And all the while I was writing this, Pluto kept spinning its way around the Sun. From unknown mathematical anomaly to faint smudge of light, from asteroid to moon, from planet to dwarf, while we rewrite our textbooks it keeps traveling on its journey, oblivious to the exhortations of the poets and philosophers.

May we all do the same, leaving behind in our wake the curses and labels of those who try to pin us down, content to simply be what we are.

The Chrysalis of a King (And I Don't Mean Elvis)

2007-05-06T20:09:00.000-05:00

Well, if not a King necessarily, certainly a Monarch.

It's butterfly season in Texas, when millions of Monarch butterflies lay their eggs and transform themselves from crawlers to fliers. While walking out on the front porch this evening I saw a green pod with a gold thread running across its top hanging underneath the ledge of one of the columns. A quick holler for my Aunt Sharon ("Smartest And Bestest Woman In Texas") confirmed that it was the chrysalis of a Monarch butterfly, the protective shell they extrude over themselves while they undergo their big change. It kind of made the gold filigree make sense, once I knew that, a sort of crown for the King-To-Be.

If you look close you can see the eyes of the little critter taking shape in there. It's amazing stuff, little miracles happening every day all around us. I'm awfully glad I had the chance to see this one, and hanging right off our front porch column, to boot.

There's something about the change of this insect from lowly ground-pounding caterpillar to majestic free-flying Monarch butterfly that brings me hope and comfort. Next time you're outside, take a few minutes to look around, and I bet you'll find something inspiring, too. That's one of the nice things about living in Nerd Country; there's always something new waiting around the corner to remind you that change is part of life, and that sometimes, if you're lucky, you just might be able to take wing afterwards.

The Evolution of Republicans

2007-05-04T16:38:00.000-05:00

In the Republican debate last night, moderator Chris Matthews asked the candidates to raise their hand if they did not believe in evolution. Kansas senator Sam Brownback, former Arkansas governor Mike Huckabee, and Tom Tancredo all raised their hands.

I find it depressing how far one of the only two viable political parties in our nation has fallen. Thirty percent of those who are potential Republican candidates for the office of the most powerful person in the world do not accept a scientific explanation as fundamental to our understanding of the universe as gravity or the germ theory of disease. They might as well have raised their hands to say they don't believe the Earth is round. How can you expect someone to make sound decisions about the direction of our nation when they can't even understand something so fundamental, so clearly true?

I remember when Republicans stood for sober reality, for dealing with the universe and the world as they are and not as we might wish them to be, for wrestling honestly and openly with the problems that beset us. Agree or disagree with their take on how to address the issues, they had the reputation for being realistic about the true nature of the world.

And yet here we are, with thirty percent of their candidates preferring to believe an overly literal translation of an ancient book over what science has clearly proven beyond any reasonable doubt to be true. You can be a Christian and still accept the physical reality of the world -- hundreds of millions of Catholics, including the Pope, understand this along with tens of thousands of theistic scientists -- but that is not what these deeply misguided men have done. They are instead turning their backs on the Enlightenment, refusing to accept the evidence of reason, of rationality, of the intellect, retreating behind a foolish consistency that is as blasphemous as it is wrong.

And they are, potentially, in line to be elected President of the United States of America.

What has happened to this once great party? Where is the spirit of Ronald Reagan, who had the vision to imagine a better world but let it be guided by hard-headed rationality? We've only got two parties to choose from in America, for better or for worse, and one of them is badly, badly broken. If you're a Republican and you're reading this, I beg you, for the health of our country's political future, get involved with your local party organization to change your course, to get back to the good parts of conservatism. Those ideals are being betrayed by these deeply unserious, foolish, misguided men, and in the end it is all of America who will pay as our already limited choices are whittled down to only one.

Why Is There A Dead Guy On The Court?

2007-05-02T10:25:00.000-05:00

Maybe this is commonplace now -- it's been a long time since I was addicted to the NBA and watched it every day -- but during the playoffs on TNT the other day a dead body kept sliding onto the court (and no, the corpse wasn't Isiah Thomas' reputation, that hasn't been near the playoffs in years).

I swear there was a
dead guy here a minute ago ...

In-game promos for other shows on the network are becoming increasingly common, but they're irritating nonetheless. They obscure part of the field of play, which isn't such a big deal in football or soccer where you've got yards and yards of empty field. But in professional basketball the court's fairly small, and there are usually guys filling every corner of it. Losing a section of the bottom of the screen is distracting and covers up what's going on in that corner of the court.

I've learned to live with it -- you gotta pay the bills, after all -- but TNT's ad for "The Closer" is extremely strange. A sheet-draped corpse slides onto the screen and lays there a moment before Kyra Sedgwick walks on and takes a look. She then stares out at the audience and the entire edifice slides off to the left.

Bizarre.

I mean, here I am watching a bunch of very tall millionaires bouncing a ball around a court, and suddenly a duck-faced white chick is ogling a dead guy in the middle of the action. It's cognitive dissonance on so many levels my mind boggles. I watch the NBA for fun and amusement, not to be reminded of both my inevitable demise and the unlikelihood of bagging Kyra Sedgwick.

I don't know if it's possible, but I'd sure like for the NBA to call a technical foul on TNT's advertising department. If we're really lucky, maybe they'll throw the ad right out of the game altogether.

Normal Guy Character Illustrations

2007-05-01T00:30:00.000-05:00

Can you be a super-hero without wearing tights with your underwear on over them? After the jump I take a crack (no pun intended) at two such examples.

Technically these two guys are supporting characters in an adventure, and not super-heroes themselves. I bet sometimes they sneak on some tights when no one is looking, though, just so they can feel like one of the heavy hitters. First up was was Harry Kruger, who came with the following description:

Harry is a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and usually a little bit of a tan. When he is working at NASA, he will generally be found wearing cotton dockers and a cotton long-sleeve shirt. On cool days, he dons a flight jacket with the insignia of the space plane mission that he remembers fondly.

From that came this illustration:

I like his jacket particularly, the leather pattern overlaying it really makes it pop. And he looks distinctive, too; I've been trying to make my character illustrations different from one another, so they seem like actual people instead of iconic stereotypes.

The next character was Benjamin Mokento:

Benjamin is a handsome, stocky man with very dark skin short-cropped hair slowly turning white. Although the muscles of his legs have withered over the years, his arms are quite muscular. Benjamin dresses conservatively, favoring crisply ironed clothes and distinctive ties. His wheelchair has a brown leather back and seat and chrome plating.

With some help from excellent photo reference found online, I came up with this image for Mokento:This is one of those illustrations that I liked much better in black and white than the final color version. Coloring is a very particular skill, and one that I am still struggling to master. In this case the problem was exacerbated by the character being African, with very dark skin according to the description. I ultimately had to cheat a bit to make his skin a bit lighter, because I really struggled with the darker tones. Getting ebon skin to show up without completely obscuring the ink lines is something I don't know how to do yet, and in the end I am not happy that I had to work around it rather than doing it right.

Once again I am reminded that when a non-artist looks at a piece of art, they see mostly the good things. When an artist looks at a piece of art (particularly his own), he sees only the bad.

Anyway, these were two quick and fun illustrations to do, each with its own challenges. I turned them both around in a day, which is pretty good. The balance between quantity and quality is an age-old one. I've usually been much better at cranking work out quickly, while sometimes sacrificing what could be better quality. But the gap is narrowing, and I am finally getting to the point where I can still work produce illustrations quickly while getting results I'm mostly happy with.

So Your Child Told You He or She Is An Atheist -- Now What?

2007-04-30T14:36:00.000-05:00

What do you do if your child comes to you and tells you they've become an atheist?

Before I go on, I want to be sure you understand a few things.

First, I'm neither a parent nor a therapist; I'm just someone who has experienced a range of reactions from people I love about my atheism, and who has a strong desire to help families stay together whenever possible.

Second, every family is different; what I have to say here may or may not apply to your yours.

Finally, this is not a guide to how to get your child to reconvert back to your religion. It's not intended to be persuasive regarding any particular system of belief, it's just meant to address some of the natural concerns and questions parents of faith might have when their child tells them they're an atheist. Ultimately my goal would be to help families in this situation stay together, emotionally available to each other, and supportive of one another.

Having said that, here are some thoughts that might help you deal with this new revelation from your son or daughter.

First Things First

So what do you do if you're religious and your child tells you that he or she is not? I imagine you're shocked, unsettled, and probably a bit angry. But you need to think very carefully about how this is going to affect your relationship with your child going forward. Decide quickly -- do you want to continue having a relationship with them, or is their atheism so painful to you that you cannot bear to deal with them? From that one decision everything else flows.

I'm going to assume that you do want to keep some sort of relationship with your child, or you wouldn't keep reading this. I want to say, therefore, that I applaud you for that; it takes courage and great strength of character to try and work through what must feel like such a fundamental rejection of what you stand for. I think -- no, I know -- it's worth it, though. This after all is your son or daughter, the little being you gave life to, who's shared your home for all these years. To throw all that away in response not to what they do but to what they think, would be a great tragedy.

Now that you've decided you want to figure out some way to live with this in your life, therefore, I'd like to address a few of the things that are probably racing through your mind.

What Do They Even Mean By "I'm An Atheist"?

You're probably thinking of other belief systems that have a creed or a list of rules, some kind of organizing document that says "You have to adhere to all of these to be one of us." Atheism isn't like that, though; there isn't a group people sign up for and whose terms they agree to in order to call themselves an atheist. Atheism isn't a creed or a religion or even a philosophy, nothing so organized as that.

That's what it's not, but as for what it is -- well, it's simply a description, meaning "someone in whom no god-belief is present".

That's it.

In some ways it would be easier if there were a list of beliefs you could read to know where you stand with your child, if they were joining a new church that had a creed or a holy book you could research. But atheism's not that easy to pin down, because as I said it's just a description of an absence. You'd do as well asking what all people who don't collect stamps have in common.

Because atheism is a description and not a creed, we don't have any lists of beliefs or standards you have to agree to in order to join up. There's not even anything TO join, because we're not a club. We're not an organization.

That's why you'll see some atheists who say they want to stamp out all religion, and others who like religion very much, just not for them. Some will be immoral scumbags, and others will be among the very nicest, best people you'll ever meet. Some will be raging liberals and others will be staunch conservatives. Some will prefer living in big urban environments while others are happy in a trailer out in the middle of nowhere.

Without any kind of central tenets or dogma, you don't ever know quite what you're going to get with an atheist, which I suspect is part of what's so disturbing to religious people about them.

So what kind of an atheist is your child going to be? The honest answer is, they're probably not going to be that different from the young man or woman they've been all along.

Are They Going To Stay an Atheist?

It's impossible to say at this point what destination your child's journey is ultimately going to arrive at. Think about the kids you've known in your church. Some of them start out all gangbusters, full of faith and fire, only to peter out quickly and return to whatever life they had before. Others burn quietly, but for longer, and become pillars of the community. Some join the church out of anger, or jealousy, or greed. Others join for fellowship, faith, or love.

Atheists aren't any different; we all arrive at our unbelief for a variety of different reasons. A blogger named Hank Fox once outlined four different types of atheists, and although I think his list would apply to lots of folks I think it's a good place to start setting your expectations. Here's his list, slightly edited for presentation:

"Rebel Atheist": Decides he’s an atheist more or less just to piss off his mom and dad.
"Revenge Atheist": Believes in a god, but happens for some reason to hate him. “You killed my kitten / gave me cancer, you bastard, and I’ll never say I believe in you, ever again.”
"Inherited Atheist": The guy who picks it up from his atheist parents, and just never thinks seriously about religion, or whenever he does, thinks it’s just some nonsense like Elvis worship.
"Awakened Atheist": Someone who realized one day that some part of her religion didn’t make sense, and worked her way through question after question over a span of years, and eventually came to the firm conclusion that it just wasn’t true, any of it.

As to what what your child's ultimate destiny is in terms of religious beliefs, it's hard to say. I think atheists of types 1 and 2 from the list above return to the faith of their childhood fairly often -- it's hard to stay that angry for very long. You're not dealing with a Type 3, or you wouldn't be reading this. If you've got a Type 4 on your hands, well, I have to be honest with you -- you're probably not going to get them back into your faith. Non-belief arrived at with careful deliberation and deep soul-searching is work honestly done and reluctantly surrendered. This type of atheist is also, however, in my opinion the most likely to end up leading a peaceful, fulfilling life. You might not feel like it now, but you should be proud of your child if they're a Type 4, because you raised a deep, careful, thoughtful person, and that's always good.

Aren't Atheists Inherently Immoral? And Doesn't That Mean My Child Will Be, Too?

No, absolutely not! Regardless of why your child has come to atheism or how long they hold to it, atheists are just as likely as theists (a generic term for anyone who does hold a god-belief) to be moral or immoral, good or evil, upstanding or wicked. This study, for instance, clearly shows that there is no correlation between atheism and immoral behavior.

I know it seems counter-intuitive to you, but faith or its lack isn't a very good indicator of how moral or immoral someone is. I would bet if you think back on people you've known in your church, you can come up with examples of people who seemed very pious but who turned out to be just rotten. And I bet the opposite is true, too, that you can think of some who seemed like the worst Baptist/Catholic/Hindu or whatever you ever saw, only in the end they turned out to be just great, great people.

If you've raised a good kid, who knows how to love others and to treat them well, then you've got nothing to worry about in the morality department. Just like there are good and bad people in every church, there are good and bad atheists as well. Who your child is on the inside is far more important than what they think about god, in terms of their personal morality.

But I Don't Want My Child Going to Hell!

I understand how painful that thought must be to you. From a religious perspective, though, I would encourage you to remember that the only one who decides who's going to hell and who isn't, is God. If you believe Him to be a truly merciful, loving god, then trust in Him to do right by your child. Don't put yourself over Him and substitute your judgement for His; trust that He'll do the best thing when the time comes.

If you want to keep a close relationship with your child, however, I wouldn't encourage you to take up this argument with him or her. An atheist doesn't believe in Hell, so at best this is an empty threat. At worst, it's likely going to drive your child even further away from you; Hell is one of the more common reasons atheists give for losing their faith in Christianity. The reasoning goes that no God who is all-loving would condemn someone to infinite, eternal torture for sins committed during a finite lifetime. Pushing that aspect of your faith to your child as a reason they should abandon atheism is likely going to have the exact opposite effect you're hoping for.

What's the Best Way To Talk To My Child About This?

Getting angry when you talk about this is not going to be helpful. In the words of the Bible, "This man speaks harshly, Who can listen to his words?" It's important to try and stay calm and reasonable. That can be hard, especially if you think your son or daughter is telling you this just to hurt you. You may think this is a childish, silly position to take. You may be taken by an incredible urge to slap some sense into them.

Don't.

I can almost guarantee you that this decision or realization is not something your child has come to lightly. It's a serious matter, and deserves serious, adult attention. Talk to them, one person to another, and really listen to what they are telling you. This is your son or daughter; nothing about their belief system is going to change that. They love you, and you love them, and even though you might be furious with each other, don't lose sight of that.

I'm not suggesting you give up your beliefs or to say anything you don't honestly believe -- in fact, I'd say just the opposite. Be open and honest with them, and give them the chance to do the same.

Just remember that their atheism doesn't mean they've suddenly become evil. They're not joining a cult, or planning on ignoring all morality and law. They're just searching for answers, even as you are, trying to figure out what it all means and why they're here, what it is they're supposed to be doing with their lives. Tell them you love them, no matter what (even if you don't feel much like it at the moment, you know you do), and even though you think they're wrong it's not going to change that love.

Atheist or theist, Christian or Muslim, black or white, ultimately that's all any child wants from their parent, to be loved for who and what they are. You don't have to agree with their position, you don't have to condone it or celebrate it, but you do have to deal with it openly and honestly, and always with love.

If you want to continue having a relationship with your child, it's absolutely essential that you not belittle or harangue them. They're making an adult decision, you need to deal with them as an adult. Put yourself in their shoes, imagine how you would want someone to react if you were telling them about your faith for the first time. Your child deserves that same respect and openness.

Most importantly, don't lie to them. Don't say "I completely understand and everything's fine, I'm ecstatic for you" if you're not, in fact, fine and ecstatic with it. Say instead "I hope you understand that this is difficult for me to accept, because I love you and my faith is very important to me. It scares me to think of you not having the same faith I have. But I hear what you're saying and I'm going to try very hard to understand and accept that this is what you believe; it's your life, and I know you have to live it, no matter how I might feel about it personally. Regardless, even if I'm angry or upset or not really understanding right now, I love you and always will."

So Now What Do I Do?

All you can do is love 'em. If you've raised them well, if you've loved them with all your heart, then they're going to turn out fine no matter what faith they end up with (even if it's no faith at all). Be open and honest with them. Keep the lines of communication open. You don't have to give their atheism your blessing, but try to express your feelings in a non-judgmental, non-condemnatory way. "You're going to hell but I love you anyway" is probably not the right approach, nor is "I'm sure this is just a phase and you'll grow out of it." Try something along the lines of "I love you no matter what, and although this isn't something I am happy about, ultimately your faith is your choice and I'm going to do my best to respect your decision."

It's all about honesty, love, and keeping the lines of communication open without being too judgmental or harsh.

And the fact is that there are millions of atheists all over the world living happy, fulfilling, moral, loving, complete lives. This may be the end of your religious hopes for them, but it most certainly isn't the end of your hopes for their moral, intellectual, and emotional well-being.

I hope this has been helpful for you. I want to repeat that I'm not a parent, nor a psychologist, so please take all of this as nothing more than what it is -- the perspective of just one guy, an atheist who has a love for kids and a genuine desire to help families stay together in love and support.

Families are precious gifts; please don't let the differences between your faith and theirs ruin that.