I used to be in a band. It was one of the most memorable periods of my life. I have a book in my mind titled "The Greatest Band Never Heard." I lived 3 three years of my life in Fargo, North Dakota from 1988 to 1991 and crammed more memories and stories into those three short years than the following decade and a half. There were many girlfriends, wild sex, drugs, band practices, band fights, drinking, writing, and working odd jobs for little pay. It was a glorious time of youth and I think anyone who witnessed a show (and there weren't many who did) observed three young men with chips on their shoulders ready to take on the whole world. We took shit from no one. When they pulled the plug on us (and bar owners always pulled th plug on us in Fargo, when they forgot who we were) we stayed on stage staring out across the bar. "You gonna let us play or what?"... "Jesus fucking Christ, What's the matter with this town?"
"Turn it down and you can play," Kirby, the bar owner, would shout from the back.
The bass player and I would walk back to our amps and crank em all the way up. The electricity would turn back on and feedback would immediately wail from the amps and we'd launch back into the song at an even greater decibels until the electricity would be cut back off again and we'd launch into another profanity filled tirade. None of this won us any respect at the time. We'd carry out our amps, guitars, drums and equipment amidst threats from Kirby that we'd never play there again. Luckily he had a short memory. But, years later we'd hear from people who were there, or even weirder still, underage kids who used to sit outside the bar and listen through the doors, then watch us as we loaded up our equipment, cursing and drinking beer as our breaths emitted frost in the cold night air. They later went on to form bands of their own that eventually created a scene in Fargo that the bar owners tapped into.
Years later, I have a job. I am awaiting a promotion while waiting word from another agency on a job offer. My fellow band member from those many years ago has a job in the computer world making three figures while our drummer still toils away in NYC - reliving our dream/nightmare. We grow up and dreams die. Eventually we take shit quite readily and get laid a whole lot less. Not sure why, but it just happens. we get old and then we become embarrassing - like Shaq these days in Miami.
My friend in the computer business has gotten the bug again and an opportunity to play with another aging musician to go out on the road again. He wants something more in life that we can't get at our mundane jobs. He wants to recapture some of that feeling of rock stardom and ass-kicking take no shit from anybody. I went to their first show a couple of weeks ago. I knew they would be good, because their good musicians. But, there was a part of me that was nervous it would be a little embarrassing, like watching Mick at the Superbowl half-time show a coupel of years ago swing his 60 something year old hips like a 16 year old girl. But, they surprised me. They rocked. They kicked ass. They said Fuck You to the world much better than most 19 year old adolescents can say it, because they could say it with a whole lot more history and mean it. That was Punk rock. I almost quit my job the following morning when my boos said good morning to me. But, I soon fell back into my routine.
We age. We get safe. We grow bored and we cease following youthful dreams. Hey, my friend and his band know that it is inevitable - that eventually they will embarrass themselves. There is just nothing redeeming about saying "fuck you" right up until you step in your grave. Eventually you got to make peace. But, that doesn't mean you have to take any shit. Somewhere there has to be a middle ground. Its out there somewhere near some dreams.
Maybe I should dust off my old guitar...
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Monday, December 31, 2007
The Future of Baseball on the Eve of 2008
Its the last eve of 2007 and I have baseball on my mind. I'm a lifelong sports fan raised on Fran Tarkington, Alan Page, Tony Oliva, Rod Carew and Harmon Killebrew. Everyone knows there is something magical about the baseball field, but the latest Steroids scandal has me wondering. There are no shortage of writers who have reminded us of the mystical qualities of the game of Baseball. But, perhaps all this magic and spiritual observance of America's pastime is only a cliche. Maybe, some of these baseball blogs written by female sports fans are not testaments to the game but rather testaments to their fathers - who never really cared all that much for the game anyway, just one more remembrance that added unknown mystique to the game.
I mean, what can be mystical about watching baseball inside. As I young adult, I observed games in the HHH dome where I personally witnessed magical events such as a no-hitter, 3 players reach 3000 hits, a couple of Worlds Series championships and Kirby Puckett's last game (where the sound of bat meets baseball echoing through the stadium was replaced by the smack of the ball hitting Kirby's face). So, what is so magical about baseball that Carlos Silva commands a four-year $48 million contract?
I'll tell you what I find magical about watching baseball. Its not sharing my passion with 30,000 other people crammed into the Metrodome. I abhor crowds and I detest the fact that Baseball is so profitable that Carlos Silva (mind you, he's a nice enough man) not only has a job among the sports most elite players, but he also is signed to a ridiculously large contract that will probably appear small in a year or twos time from now. I like watching baseball on a weekday afternoon in a near empty stadium where you can hear Dennis Martinez's slider hit and break Kirby Puckett's cheekbone from the left field bleachers and then the murmur of a few season ticket holders behind homeplate as Tom Kelly's footsteps slap across the infield. What makes baseball magical is not something you can share with thousands of people and it isn't something that makes the select few so rich that they become celebrities far removed from their fans.
Carl Eller read children's stories to our elementary school and it wasn't a charitable event. I am sure our school forked out a much appreciated hundred dollars or so. I thought Carl Eller wasn't that much different than my dad or one of my grade school friend's dad. These guys were mythical, but no more so than our fathers. Now, sports heroes are celebrities and baseball titans are mere cheaters making millions. They are as far removed from their fan base as the billionaire beneficiaries of permanent tax-cuts are from your average working American. But that doesn't stop us from paying tribute to the magic of baseball anymore than it stops middle-aged white guys from voting republican.
So, thats why I still read the sports page and comb box scores everyday, whether its baseball or basketball. Its out of institutional habit more than a spiritual necessity. Bad habits are hard to break and I don't suppose my likelihood of breaking it is any greater than a lifetime smoker on the verge of lung cancer will quit smoking tomorrow. After a while, when our dreams long ago died, we come to terms with the fact that we all got to die someday, just like we realize that the American dream is no more mythical than America's pastime. We aren't willing to embrace the fact, so we just ride it into the sunset.
I mean, what can be mystical about watching baseball inside. As I young adult, I observed games in the HHH dome where I personally witnessed magical events such as a no-hitter, 3 players reach 3000 hits, a couple of Worlds Series championships and Kirby Puckett's last game (where the sound of bat meets baseball echoing through the stadium was replaced by the smack of the ball hitting Kirby's face). So, what is so magical about baseball that Carlos Silva commands a four-year $48 million contract?
I'll tell you what I find magical about watching baseball. Its not sharing my passion with 30,000 other people crammed into the Metrodome. I abhor crowds and I detest the fact that Baseball is so profitable that Carlos Silva (mind you, he's a nice enough man) not only has a job among the sports most elite players, but he also is signed to a ridiculously large contract that will probably appear small in a year or twos time from now. I like watching baseball on a weekday afternoon in a near empty stadium where you can hear Dennis Martinez's slider hit and break Kirby Puckett's cheekbone from the left field bleachers and then the murmur of a few season ticket holders behind homeplate as Tom Kelly's footsteps slap across the infield. What makes baseball magical is not something you can share with thousands of people and it isn't something that makes the select few so rich that they become celebrities far removed from their fans.
Carl Eller read children's stories to our elementary school and it wasn't a charitable event. I am sure our school forked out a much appreciated hundred dollars or so. I thought Carl Eller wasn't that much different than my dad or one of my grade school friend's dad. These guys were mythical, but no more so than our fathers. Now, sports heroes are celebrities and baseball titans are mere cheaters making millions. They are as far removed from their fan base as the billionaire beneficiaries of permanent tax-cuts are from your average working American. But that doesn't stop us from paying tribute to the magic of baseball anymore than it stops middle-aged white guys from voting republican.
So, thats why I still read the sports page and comb box scores everyday, whether its baseball or basketball. Its out of institutional habit more than a spiritual necessity. Bad habits are hard to break and I don't suppose my likelihood of breaking it is any greater than a lifetime smoker on the verge of lung cancer will quit smoking tomorrow. After a while, when our dreams long ago died, we come to terms with the fact that we all got to die someday, just like we realize that the American dream is no more mythical than America's pastime. We aren't willing to embrace the fact, so we just ride it into the sunset.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Eelpout guts and Iraqi brains.
The Walleye is a revered fish in Minnesota and is also known to be finicky, especially in the winter. When watching the bobber go down below the ice, it often is taken slowly. If you set the hook too early the walleye will drop the minnow and you will have to take up all the line and check your bait, before dropping it down 20 feet or more to begin again.
Sometimes the bobber goes down fast when the walleye is hungry and you need to set the hook immediately as the walleye is running away with its dinner. If she is a "good one" it will feel like you are setting the hook into solid ground and there will be little give before the line starts to pull in short jerks away from you.
But, when the walleye isn't really feeding you have to let the bobber go for a while. Sometimes it will pop back up, but you can tell the walleye is still down there playing with its dinner by the movement of your bobber. Slowly it sinks and you need to give it some line. It will eventually stop taking line and this is where you have to be patient. The walleye still might be just playing with the minnow and getting ready to spit it out at the slightest provocation. Sometimes you have to wait for a minute or more. Then, the line will start to get taken again a little more forcefully. Hold the line tight till you feel the fish and then pull hard to set the hook. Again, if its a "good one" it will feel like you are setting the hook into solid rock.
There is only one problem with this approach. The dreaded eelpout. An eelpout is an introduced fish to Minnesota from Europe, I believe. I was told they were rough fish, like carp, as a kid and should be treated as such. Eelpout take the bait just like a walleye, but they usually are not playing around. While you are waiting they are swallowing the minnow and hook deep into their bellies. They also are taking the minnow and swimming in circles and, more often than not, tangling up the line in other nearby holes. One of the first clues that you may have an eelpout at the end of the line is that the other fishermen or women in your party will be kneeling before holes near you anticipating their own walleye as their bobbers disappear below the ice in succession one after the other. When setting the hook into an eelpout it will also feel like you have set it into solid rock. But then, there will be long steady pulls of the line against you instead of the short quick rapid burst from the tail flicks of the walleye. When other people ask you if you got a "good one?" the response of "nope, pout!" will immediately clear everyone away so they don't get drawn into the inevitable lengthy untangling of line, cutting of hooks and reattaching a new rig and minnow.
The eelpout is slimy like an eel and it is difficult to handle. Once it comes up through the hole it will immediately curl up into itself like a snake. Its mouth is clamped shut and it is necessary to step on its back or stomach to force it open. If you can't see the hook you will often just need to cut the line. No one keeps eelpout to eat, though there have always been rumors that they are good eating and healthy for you. Instead, they are tossed onto the ice in disgust and left to die on the frozen tundra. On a Minnesota lake, like Mille Lacs, in the winter near ice fishing houses the lake is often littered with eelpout carcasses.
As a boy, after an eel pout was caught by myself, my dad or other members of our fishing party, I would often put on my Sorrell boots and march out into the cold after them and proceed to stomp on the backs of the eelpout until all of the organs and entrails were forced out of its mouth. This desecration of the eelpout was made possible because this fish was hated and its life was considered worthless and a stain upon the revered walleye waters of Minnesota. I was a normal kid and the stomping I did was not done because I had a vicious streak inside me extending towards other animals and humans. It was done out of boredom and because it was fun and also because the life of an eelpout was considered worthless.
It is the way humans are. If we are taught that a life is worthless we will be conditioned to destroy it and kill it out of boredom and for entertainment. Thats what marines are trained to do with Iraqis. Kill. Its what we train our youth to do with video games. It is what we see in Colorado and Oklahoma. It is why we don't flinch at the idea of specious extinction due to climate change - not even our own. In our society we revere little life. Certainly the military portion of our society reveres none. What returns from Iraq and Afghanistan will be with us till the end and the end is coming nearer simply because we can no longer love. Marines congratulate each other because soldiers today are much more likely to fire their weapons in battle than soldiers of yesterday - like WWII. They are trained to kill and they do it efficiently without flinching. They think that is progress. Iraqi brains and blood on the desert streets in Baghdad or other Iraqi towns is no different than eelpout guts lying frozen on the ice covering Minnesota lakes. That is until years later, when we become haunted by our conditioning as we discover the last remnants of love and humanity residing inside each of us below the ever-present conditioning to hate we get from our society.
I don't see the blood lust of the modern marines as progress. I see it as a tragedy that, if it is not corrected, will eventually lead to the end of us all. As Scott Ritter once said. "Weapons of mass destruction? A platoon of marines with unlimited ammo - that is a weapon of mass destruction." or a kid with big boots in the case of an eelpout.
Sometimes the bobber goes down fast when the walleye is hungry and you need to set the hook immediately as the walleye is running away with its dinner. If she is a "good one" it will feel like you are setting the hook into solid ground and there will be little give before the line starts to pull in short jerks away from you.
But, when the walleye isn't really feeding you have to let the bobber go for a while. Sometimes it will pop back up, but you can tell the walleye is still down there playing with its dinner by the movement of your bobber. Slowly it sinks and you need to give it some line. It will eventually stop taking line and this is where you have to be patient. The walleye still might be just playing with the minnow and getting ready to spit it out at the slightest provocation. Sometimes you have to wait for a minute or more. Then, the line will start to get taken again a little more forcefully. Hold the line tight till you feel the fish and then pull hard to set the hook. Again, if its a "good one" it will feel like you are setting the hook into solid rock.
There is only one problem with this approach. The dreaded eelpout. An eelpout is an introduced fish to Minnesota from Europe, I believe. I was told they were rough fish, like carp, as a kid and should be treated as such. Eelpout take the bait just like a walleye, but they usually are not playing around. While you are waiting they are swallowing the minnow and hook deep into their bellies. They also are taking the minnow and swimming in circles and, more often than not, tangling up the line in other nearby holes. One of the first clues that you may have an eelpout at the end of the line is that the other fishermen or women in your party will be kneeling before holes near you anticipating their own walleye as their bobbers disappear below the ice in succession one after the other. When setting the hook into an eelpout it will also feel like you have set it into solid rock. But then, there will be long steady pulls of the line against you instead of the short quick rapid burst from the tail flicks of the walleye. When other people ask you if you got a "good one?" the response of "nope, pout!" will immediately clear everyone away so they don't get drawn into the inevitable lengthy untangling of line, cutting of hooks and reattaching a new rig and minnow.
The eelpout is slimy like an eel and it is difficult to handle. Once it comes up through the hole it will immediately curl up into itself like a snake. Its mouth is clamped shut and it is necessary to step on its back or stomach to force it open. If you can't see the hook you will often just need to cut the line. No one keeps eelpout to eat, though there have always been rumors that they are good eating and healthy for you. Instead, they are tossed onto the ice in disgust and left to die on the frozen tundra. On a Minnesota lake, like Mille Lacs, in the winter near ice fishing houses the lake is often littered with eelpout carcasses.
As a boy, after an eel pout was caught by myself, my dad or other members of our fishing party, I would often put on my Sorrell boots and march out into the cold after them and proceed to stomp on the backs of the eelpout until all of the organs and entrails were forced out of its mouth. This desecration of the eelpout was made possible because this fish was hated and its life was considered worthless and a stain upon the revered walleye waters of Minnesota. I was a normal kid and the stomping I did was not done because I had a vicious streak inside me extending towards other animals and humans. It was done out of boredom and because it was fun and also because the life of an eelpout was considered worthless.
It is the way humans are. If we are taught that a life is worthless we will be conditioned to destroy it and kill it out of boredom and for entertainment. Thats what marines are trained to do with Iraqis. Kill. Its what we train our youth to do with video games. It is what we see in Colorado and Oklahoma. It is why we don't flinch at the idea of specious extinction due to climate change - not even our own. In our society we revere little life. Certainly the military portion of our society reveres none. What returns from Iraq and Afghanistan will be with us till the end and the end is coming nearer simply because we can no longer love. Marines congratulate each other because soldiers today are much more likely to fire their weapons in battle than soldiers of yesterday - like WWII. They are trained to kill and they do it efficiently without flinching. They think that is progress. Iraqi brains and blood on the desert streets in Baghdad or other Iraqi towns is no different than eelpout guts lying frozen on the ice covering Minnesota lakes. That is until years later, when we become haunted by our conditioning as we discover the last remnants of love and humanity residing inside each of us below the ever-present conditioning to hate we get from our society.
I don't see the blood lust of the modern marines as progress. I see it as a tragedy that, if it is not corrected, will eventually lead to the end of us all. As Scott Ritter once said. "Weapons of mass destruction? A platoon of marines with unlimited ammo - that is a weapon of mass destruction." or a kid with big boots in the case of an eelpout.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
They ought to be in Jail
I suppose some might say I'm a liberal. However, I've had plenty of liberals accuse me of being a wingnut. I'd say I'm liberal. But, I also think I have a streak of conservative in me. I believe in community. I support home-schooling and community supported schools and I am critical of Public schools. I think Roe vs. Wade is flawed in its argumentation, but I support abortion in 99.93% of the cases. Some liberals think I want to control a woman's body because of the 0.07%.
I'm a liberal who would have prosecuted Bill Clinton for War crimes and thinks his wife Hilary is not a good candidate for President. In fact, I'd rather see Mike Huckabee and I'm not a right wing Christain - although I believe in many of the teachings of Jesus Christ such as Blessed are the Peacemaker for they shal inherit the Earth. My preferred candidate is Dennis Kucinich, but I stopped preferring candidates after the last presidential campaign. I think Dick Cheney really did order the murder of Senator Paul Wellstone and I have zero evidence. I just think it fits his profile.
What I'm trying to say without sounding partisan and someone who is on a mission to reestablish a Democratic presidency further reducing the influence of the GOP in Washington is that current and past members of the present administration should be going to jail - forever. Throw away the key. How much more of this will we take. We can just forget about the Iraq war and torture and all that inexcusable bullshit. Lets just talk about the Kyoto protocol and the Nuclear non-proliferation agreement. I realize we are all guilty of contributing to the destruction of the natural world through our participation in this consumer culture in America, but this is what we have leaders for. And, as slow as politics are, there has been progress towards - at least - coming to terms with the impacts of CO2 and climate change. But, is there any excuse for the arrogance of withdrawing from all discussion with the other countries in the world. Likewise, the rollback of the goals towards a future without the proliferation of Nuclear weapons. There was means for discussion with the countries in the world and this administration has made the world a more dangerous place by its policy of preemptive strikes and the consideration of limited nuclear strikes against wayward countries.
We should be a participant in discussions of the major issues facing our planet in the future. It does not get anymore important the nuclear weapons and climate change. For this alone I would put them all in jail, without even considering the lack of a true discussion on Palestine, torture, domestic spying, the Iraq War, the budget deficit, permanent tax cuts, corruption, Blackwater, privatization, etc. They are not mere poor decision makers. They are criminals and we need to treat them as such.
I'm a liberal who would have prosecuted Bill Clinton for War crimes and thinks his wife Hilary is not a good candidate for President. In fact, I'd rather see Mike Huckabee and I'm not a right wing Christain - although I believe in many of the teachings of Jesus Christ such as Blessed are the Peacemaker for they shal inherit the Earth. My preferred candidate is Dennis Kucinich, but I stopped preferring candidates after the last presidential campaign. I think Dick Cheney really did order the murder of Senator Paul Wellstone and I have zero evidence. I just think it fits his profile.
What I'm trying to say without sounding partisan and someone who is on a mission to reestablish a Democratic presidency further reducing the influence of the GOP in Washington is that current and past members of the present administration should be going to jail - forever. Throw away the key. How much more of this will we take. We can just forget about the Iraq war and torture and all that inexcusable bullshit. Lets just talk about the Kyoto protocol and the Nuclear non-proliferation agreement. I realize we are all guilty of contributing to the destruction of the natural world through our participation in this consumer culture in America, but this is what we have leaders for. And, as slow as politics are, there has been progress towards - at least - coming to terms with the impacts of CO2 and climate change. But, is there any excuse for the arrogance of withdrawing from all discussion with the other countries in the world. Likewise, the rollback of the goals towards a future without the proliferation of Nuclear weapons. There was means for discussion with the countries in the world and this administration has made the world a more dangerous place by its policy of preemptive strikes and the consideration of limited nuclear strikes against wayward countries.
We should be a participant in discussions of the major issues facing our planet in the future. It does not get anymore important the nuclear weapons and climate change. For this alone I would put them all in jail, without even considering the lack of a true discussion on Palestine, torture, domestic spying, the Iraq War, the budget deficit, permanent tax cuts, corruption, Blackwater, privatization, etc. They are not mere poor decision makers. They are criminals and we need to treat them as such.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Second interview.
I got as call back from a first interview for another position within another large bureaucracy. Its a job working for an institution providing expert testimony on behalf of the Public's interest concerning rates charged before the Public Utilities Commission.
My current job is rather mindless, but it requires a sense of order I have managed to sustain for two years. I am capable as an accountant/auditor keeping records and such, but my tendency is still towards the creative and chaotic - at least in comparison to what you will normally find inside bureaucratic institutions. A Public Rates Analyst is not exactly a position filled by artists and poets, but it does require the application of theory and is much more stimulating than a position as a record-keeper that I currently am employed as.
I imagine my days will be much busier, but also more interesting. Essentially, I will be employed as an economist - which is what I trained as in graduate school. However, an economist that only studies one specific industry (telecommunications) recognizing trends and setting up the terms for just and fair markets. In my second interview I have to give a presentation on some subject that has yet to be revealed to me. I go in on a week from today.
I look forward to it as a break form my current schedule and routine consisting of mind-numbing monotony. However, age has tempered my penchant for assuming that a new job will finally bring me the sense of satisfaction I am looking for. A job is a job and my ultimate satisfaction can only be found away from employment. For now, however ( and likely till I am old and decrepit) employment is necessary and I am coming on three years in the same job. With some luck and a good performance, change may soon come.
My current job is rather mindless, but it requires a sense of order I have managed to sustain for two years. I am capable as an accountant/auditor keeping records and such, but my tendency is still towards the creative and chaotic - at least in comparison to what you will normally find inside bureaucratic institutions. A Public Rates Analyst is not exactly a position filled by artists and poets, but it does require the application of theory and is much more stimulating than a position as a record-keeper that I currently am employed as.
I imagine my days will be much busier, but also more interesting. Essentially, I will be employed as an economist - which is what I trained as in graduate school. However, an economist that only studies one specific industry (telecommunications) recognizing trends and setting up the terms for just and fair markets. In my second interview I have to give a presentation on some subject that has yet to be revealed to me. I go in on a week from today.
I look forward to it as a break form my current schedule and routine consisting of mind-numbing monotony. However, age has tempered my penchant for assuming that a new job will finally bring me the sense of satisfaction I am looking for. A job is a job and my ultimate satisfaction can only be found away from employment. For now, however ( and likely till I am old and decrepit) employment is necessary and I am coming on three years in the same job. With some luck and a good performance, change may soon come.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Seen Your Video
If you know the song, then you have some idea of what makes this whole blog thing so difficult to be motivated about.
The refrain keeps going through my head
We don't want to know
We don't want to know
We don't want to know
The question does not even need to be asked and perhaps it doesn't even matter. Does Paul Westerberg have a blog? Of course not, and it doesn't really matter either. See, blogs are like videos when every band wanted to be on MTV. Now everyone wants a myspace page or a weblog. But, really, its true for 99 % of them
We don't want to know.
The refrain keeps going through my head
We don't want to know
We don't want to know
We don't want to know
The question does not even need to be asked and perhaps it doesn't even matter. Does Paul Westerberg have a blog? Of course not, and it doesn't really matter either. See, blogs are like videos when every band wanted to be on MTV. Now everyone wants a myspace page or a weblog. But, really, its true for 99 % of them
We don't want to know.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Banned and a good book
I haven't posted for a while. I suppose I could say I've been busy at work, and it is true. I've also been spending time on my resume as I look at other opportunities available out there in the world of bureaucracies.
Peaches was recently banned from Talkleft for his juvenile behavior of rating every comment of his nemesis a 1 (on a scale of 1 to 5) for the previous week. He sort of got sick of the dominant personalities on the blog. Internet communities are interesting and sometimes fascinating to watch develop. For Recluses and solitary personalities as myself, one can get drawn into them. Its fun when the discussions are irrelevant and meaningless. For instances, the first community I was involved in was part of free online game called Realmwars. I found a hosting site called Planetbang and over time became part of the community. I was in my late thirties and playing games and bullshitting with 12 to 21 year olds like they were my best friends. We actually stated caring about each other. There was Thaed, JPac, Borus, Adam, Bit, Bert, Redman, Deathchant, Evil, and a host of others. It was fun for awhile and a big waste of time. But, I was unemployed at the time and I actually came to depend on this community for a little self-esteem.
But, at TalkLeft, where the discussions get serious and you mostly conversed with men in their 40s and 50s, it is hard not to feel a kind of resentment towards yourself and others for actually thinking you are accomplishing something through discussing political and current events. The friendships formed were not like the ones formed amongst awkward teenagers with underdeveloped social skills. These are angry men instead acting out angst over their underdeveloped social skills as the teenagers they once were. I couldn't help but be repulsed by the majority of people who contributed at the blog and I took it out on one participant in particular - Edger.
But, now Peaches is gone on the internet. I am now myself rather than a pseudonym. So, I was looking to be banned at TL as Peaches so Peaches could be put to rest. It only took a week of rating Edger a 1.
But, on to more enlightening comment. I just finished one of the better books I have read in a long time. Its called The Last River Rat. I'v ealways been a fan of Thoreau, Aldo Leopold and Sigurd Olson as well as many other nature writers. But, Keeny Salway is my new hero. You have to read this book. It is fabulous.
Peaches was recently banned from Talkleft for his juvenile behavior of rating every comment of his nemesis a 1 (on a scale of 1 to 5) for the previous week. He sort of got sick of the dominant personalities on the blog. Internet communities are interesting and sometimes fascinating to watch develop. For Recluses and solitary personalities as myself, one can get drawn into them. Its fun when the discussions are irrelevant and meaningless. For instances, the first community I was involved in was part of free online game called Realmwars. I found a hosting site called Planetbang and over time became part of the community. I was in my late thirties and playing games and bullshitting with 12 to 21 year olds like they were my best friends. We actually stated caring about each other. There was Thaed, JPac, Borus, Adam, Bit, Bert, Redman, Deathchant, Evil, and a host of others. It was fun for awhile and a big waste of time. But, I was unemployed at the time and I actually came to depend on this community for a little self-esteem.
But, at TalkLeft, where the discussions get serious and you mostly conversed with men in their 40s and 50s, it is hard not to feel a kind of resentment towards yourself and others for actually thinking you are accomplishing something through discussing political and current events. The friendships formed were not like the ones formed amongst awkward teenagers with underdeveloped social skills. These are angry men instead acting out angst over their underdeveloped social skills as the teenagers they once were. I couldn't help but be repulsed by the majority of people who contributed at the blog and I took it out on one participant in particular - Edger.
But, now Peaches is gone on the internet. I am now myself rather than a pseudonym. So, I was looking to be banned at TL as Peaches so Peaches could be put to rest. It only took a week of rating Edger a 1.
But, on to more enlightening comment. I just finished one of the better books I have read in a long time. Its called The Last River Rat. I'v ealways been a fan of Thoreau, Aldo Leopold and Sigurd Olson as well as many other nature writers. But, Keeny Salway is my new hero. You have to read this book. It is fabulous.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Humor for a small audience
I don't imagine many people under 30 years old would find the new blog of Dick Cavett at the New York Times page very funny, but to those of us older than 40 he is a refreshing new addition to the blogging era.
When I was young there was no internet and computers were something that had to do with punch cards and "Stop" and "Go To" commands. There was still a debate in Math classes about whether students could use calculators in class that had the limited capability of doing addition, subtraction, multiplication and division. Our minds, outside of school were still being polluted by television but we only had 4 or 5 channels to choose from. This did not stop us from vegetating in front of the TV sets for hours at a time however.
Of course, evenings consisted of scheduling around such sitcoms and Welcome Back Cotter, Happy Days, and The Dukes of Hazard. Before School, we'd watch Captain Kangaroo and Romper Room and after school we'd plop ourselves in front of the television for a couple of hours to watch reruns of Gilligan's Island, Underdog, The Dick Van Dyke Show and Scooby Doo. Sometimes we would stay up late with our Dad's and watch Johnny Carson on the Tonight Show and late at night Tomorrow with Tom Snyder. Often, while learning the artful skills of flipping that would soon serve us so well once cable TV arrived, we would stumble upon The Dick Cavett Show.
If memory serves me correctly, he was on PBS. PBS is what brought us Monty Python and The Benny Hill Show. As teenagers, much of his intellectual and sophisticated humor must have went over our heads, but there was something there that held our attention and we would sit and smile as we watched him question his guests in his most unique way. As we aged we started laughing harder at his quirks and were let in on his humor. His humor required that we know current events and the political discussions of the day.
I have not heard from Dick Cavett for many years. A search on Google shows he has continued to have shows up to the present on one network or another. But, the multitude of channels on the dish network and Cable have turned many of us away from the information overload accosting us from our television sets, so he has been lost to us and the world for a couple decades or more. What a refreshing and wondrous relief to discover his humor again while reading the New York Times online.
When I was young there was no internet and computers were something that had to do with punch cards and "Stop" and "Go To" commands. There was still a debate in Math classes about whether students could use calculators in class that had the limited capability of doing addition, subtraction, multiplication and division. Our minds, outside of school were still being polluted by television but we only had 4 or 5 channels to choose from. This did not stop us from vegetating in front of the TV sets for hours at a time however.
Of course, evenings consisted of scheduling around such sitcoms and Welcome Back Cotter, Happy Days, and The Dukes of Hazard. Before School, we'd watch Captain Kangaroo and Romper Room and after school we'd plop ourselves in front of the television for a couple of hours to watch reruns of Gilligan's Island, Underdog, The Dick Van Dyke Show and Scooby Doo. Sometimes we would stay up late with our Dad's and watch Johnny Carson on the Tonight Show and late at night Tomorrow with Tom Snyder. Often, while learning the artful skills of flipping that would soon serve us so well once cable TV arrived, we would stumble upon The Dick Cavett Show.
If memory serves me correctly, he was on PBS. PBS is what brought us Monty Python and The Benny Hill Show. As teenagers, much of his intellectual and sophisticated humor must have went over our heads, but there was something there that held our attention and we would sit and smile as we watched him question his guests in his most unique way. As we aged we started laughing harder at his quirks and were let in on his humor. His humor required that we know current events and the political discussions of the day.
I have not heard from Dick Cavett for many years. A search on Google shows he has continued to have shows up to the present on one network or another. But, the multitude of channels on the dish network and Cable have turned many of us away from the information overload accosting us from our television sets, so he has been lost to us and the world for a couple decades or more. What a refreshing and wondrous relief to discover his humor again while reading the New York Times online.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Memory of a Fishing Trip
It was spring and the sun was coming up earlier and earlier. Daylight Savings time came later in the year back then and it seemed as it was light by the time I made my first delivery. I usually awoke about 4:30 am and left to the central garage with my two older brothers to stuff ads into the papers before beginning my route. We opened the garage door, grabbed our Schwinn Stingrays, affixed the delivery bag to our handlebars and drove in a line two blocks to the High Schooler's (Gerard) garage who was in charge of our area.
Monday, October 8, 2007
Shultz, Meloncholy and the Weather
I left the Twins cities at about 4 pm last Friday afternoon heading up to Jay Cooke State Park to meet a contingent of fools from Duluth to hike into one of the four (Silver Creek) remote backpack sites in the park along the St. Louis river. I was wearing a T-shirt when I left the muggy Twin Cities on the early October afternoon. When I stepped out of the car at the highway 210 exit to Jay Cooke to grab a burger with my co-rider Big Bill B., it was a balmy and chilly evening requiring a quick change into long underwear and several layers of clothing I wore through the remainder of the weekend camping trip with my cronies. I was still bundled up when I stepped out of my car on Sunday afternoon at my suburban sanctuary and was hit with a wave of heat and humidity from an unseasonably warm October afternoon.
On my ride into work this morning the Minnesota Public Radio weatherperson was stating that there is no normal, just variations of extremes. hmmm.
I was reading the paper this morning and stumbled across an article on the reaction of Charles Shultz's family to his latest biography portraying the Peanuts creator as a miserable and cantankerous man prone to fits of depression. The fact that Charles Shultz was prone to melancholy is not exactly a new insight into the famous cartoonist. He said as much on the 60 minutes interview I saw several years ago. Shultz used humor to assuage his melancholy and funny may make us laugh, but it is rarely happy. We laugh at absurdities and to overcome the hardships and suffering of life.
There is no normal, just variations of extremes. Look at the Colorado Rockies. They are far from the best team in baseball this year, but they are currently baseball's hottest team as they ride a streak of 17 wins out of the past 18 games. Despite the American league being the dominant league of the two, if the Rockies sweep the Diamondbacks the world series might be very competitive and exciting whether they play the favored Indians, Yankees or Red Socks. Hitters are usually either in a slump or on a tear and rarely are hitting their average over the season. Basketball players get hot or can't find their shot. Life isn't average or normal, it fluctuates between extremes.
When study statistics, the interesting pieces of data are always the anomalies. What lies within the Bell curve is never interesting. Our education system is all about getting more people to fall under that bell curve whether describing cognitive abilities, behavior, social interactions, or motor skills. Development must also fall into these trajectories based on statistical analysis and God forbid if someone finds themselves outside the range of their age group in any of the above categories. Early intervention is the catch phrase for prodding children back into the range of normal and keeping them from being in the extremes, at least on the lower end of the bell curve.
At the high range lies the gifted, and these become the prodigies who need their gifts nurtured, but often at the expense of the developments of their whole being. But, thats another story. My point here is the lower regions, because I am told my son is below the developmental average in fine motor skills and social interactions (recognition of boundaries, oppositional behavior, etc) for his age group. Obviously, I strive to be a good parent and I want what is best for my son. But, do we really know the optimum way for brains and humans to develop, and if we did, why would we assume that it would resemble anything close to normal or average. Ludwig Wittgenstein did not speak a word until he was four years old, according to his biographer Ray Monk. He would have been found to be developmentally delayed in cognitive functions by today's child psychologist, but without any outside intervention, he arguably developed into one of the greatest intellects western society has ever produced.
It all just makes me wonder what the hell is normal?
On my ride into work this morning the Minnesota Public Radio weatherperson was stating that there is no normal, just variations of extremes. hmmm.
I was reading the paper this morning and stumbled across an article on the reaction of Charles Shultz's family to his latest biography portraying the Peanuts creator as a miserable and cantankerous man prone to fits of depression. The fact that Charles Shultz was prone to melancholy is not exactly a new insight into the famous cartoonist. He said as much on the 60 minutes interview I saw several years ago. Shultz used humor to assuage his melancholy and funny may make us laugh, but it is rarely happy. We laugh at absurdities and to overcome the hardships and suffering of life.
There is no normal, just variations of extremes. Look at the Colorado Rockies. They are far from the best team in baseball this year, but they are currently baseball's hottest team as they ride a streak of 17 wins out of the past 18 games. Despite the American league being the dominant league of the two, if the Rockies sweep the Diamondbacks the world series might be very competitive and exciting whether they play the favored Indians, Yankees or Red Socks. Hitters are usually either in a slump or on a tear and rarely are hitting their average over the season. Basketball players get hot or can't find their shot. Life isn't average or normal, it fluctuates between extremes.
When study statistics, the interesting pieces of data are always the anomalies. What lies within the Bell curve is never interesting. Our education system is all about getting more people to fall under that bell curve whether describing cognitive abilities, behavior, social interactions, or motor skills. Development must also fall into these trajectories based on statistical analysis and God forbid if someone finds themselves outside the range of their age group in any of the above categories. Early intervention is the catch phrase for prodding children back into the range of normal and keeping them from being in the extremes, at least on the lower end of the bell curve.
At the high range lies the gifted, and these become the prodigies who need their gifts nurtured, but often at the expense of the developments of their whole being. But, thats another story. My point here is the lower regions, because I am told my son is below the developmental average in fine motor skills and social interactions (recognition of boundaries, oppositional behavior, etc) for his age group. Obviously, I strive to be a good parent and I want what is best for my son. But, do we really know the optimum way for brains and humans to develop, and if we did, why would we assume that it would resemble anything close to normal or average. Ludwig Wittgenstein did not speak a word until he was four years old, according to his biographer Ray Monk. He would have been found to be developmentally delayed in cognitive functions by today's child psychologist, but without any outside intervention, he arguably developed into one of the greatest intellects western society has ever produced.
It all just makes me wonder what the hell is normal?
Thursday, October 4, 2007
A New Kind of Power
There is a comfort in capitalism and knowing the motives of its participants. Adam Smith is famous for his metaphor of the invisible hand. He argued that if we all acted in our own best interests, then society's greater interests would be served as well. In capitalism, self-interests are described by the profit motive as each of us seeks to achieve the greatest profit. We have learned since the days of Adam Smith that although the economy works this way, in real life humans are motivated by a wide variety of factors of which self-interests and the profit motive play a small part.
In politics we can see the economic incentives playing out as corporate interests hedge their bets between parties and candidates, so they can receive the greatest benefit. Even if they know a candidate does not fully support the issues that benefit the donor's interests the most, they may still contribute to the candidates campaign so they may benefit from the candidates success in an election. In a strange way, this incentive gives us comfort knowing that corporations can still support candidates with interests that favor the majority and not the market, because they realize the people who vote are not in full support of their profit-driven agenda. Thus, we see the corporations and large donors filling the campaign vaults of the democratic candidates for the 2008 election in full knowledge that after eight years of the Bush administration, there is little chance the American people will choose another term for a Republican administration.
Although far from perfect, in some ways it is better than the alternative. Many people like to point out that economics and capitalism fail to portray the more beneficial aspects of human behavior. Any human that was only motivated by their own self-interest and strictly made decisions based on the profit motive would be institutionalized as a sociopath. Corporations, which legally are treated as individuals, are described as psychologically unstable and a danger to society because of its single-minded devotion to profits over all other motivations. However, human nature also has even a darker side than the profit seeking individual oblivious to the greater interests of humanity. The profit seeking corporation can be seen as standing in the way of power to these darker forces.
During Eric Prince's testimony to Congress he described himself as not interested in finances and anyone who knew him well could testify to this. Aside from the fact that as a man who comes from big money he never had to worry about finances, we can see that this also reveals a man who represents the darker forces of humanity. Eric Prince has never hedged his bets. He is from a wealthy family tied to other families of wealth who only support radical right wing neoconservative and radical Christian objectives. As an observer of American politics, Prince is not satisfied with the slow shift to the right resulting from corporations hedging their bets while prefering candidates that will put money in their pockets at the expense of the peoples. Prince sees a danger of a populace that will feel disenfranchised and will never be fully immersed in the Radical Christian ideology that sees the world in terms of good and evil.
Under Princes views there can be no hedging. We are in a war with the dark forces of the world represented primarily by the Muslim ideology. Previously, it was a war with the communist forces of Satan, but no matter, Satan frequently shapeshifts and can reveal himself under new guises depending on the times. There is no time to hedge your bets under Princes ideology and we must be prepared to meet the darker forces and battle these forces in the name of Good and fundamentalist Christianity. A military that is at the mercy of congress is a military that will never be fully prepared for this battle. I joked about this being the plot of a great science fiction novel, previously. I am not one to make predictions and I am humble enough to know that random events are much more influential to the forces of history than any other conditions. However, this trend towards the privatization of the military that has created a private military capable of overflowing the majority of governments in the world and that continues to grow, has the necessary ingredients for disastrous results.
There is a realization that we cannot keep funding the Iraqi war or even our bloated military forever. There are rivalries between the branches of the military over the funding of new weapons systems as well as the role each branch will play in the future battlefields across the board. We have heard concerns over the growing influence of radical Christians at focal positions in the Air Force and the Army. As these rivalries grew, it became obvious to some that the military needed restructuring. This restructuring has be done by neocons over the past eight years and has left the military power in new private hands with an ideology that is not represented by the majority of Americans.
Some may want to point out the forces on the left that have contributed strictly to liberal and democratic candidates such as Unions or Moveon.org. I concede that these forces used to be a counter force to the forces on the right devoting their financial contributions strictly to right-wing and republican candidates. But, these powers on the right now have there own military that should bring cause for concern to all. Can you imagine if a similar force was funded and led by the left. What ff George Soros started his own security firm and began to get contracts under the next Clinton Administration? What would the right wing be saying and how long would it be before he was tied to terrorism and the war broke out between Blackwater and Soros firm [See, it is a great plot]? A more likely scenario will be a General on the battle field voicing the concern that Blackwater has made American soldiers larger targets for insurgents. This General might also feel slighted by his diminsished pay compared to Blackwater employees. A back alley war between Blackwater and American forces might result through the withholding of intelligence, funding of insurgents, negligence of duty, etc. Then it is only a matter of time before this war spreads home.
Obviously, my imagination is too active and this is likely to play out over a longer period of time for us to notice this drift toward Tyranny in America we are presently in. But, as unsettling as many of the impacts of the Bush administration has been on Democracy in the US, the privatization of military services is the most concerning and should be the red flag to us all that the empire will soon turn its violent hand against the citizens on the mainland as these armies increasingly come rushing to aide in disaster relief and urban unrest that is likely to increase over the coming years. I think I might prefer the profit-motive to these darker forces on the horizon.
Fall, Grief and Despair
I still have potatoes, broccoli and kale left to harvest in the garden. Soon, I must begin applying compost and mulch to prepare the soil for next spring and plant the garden along with other fall plantings of flowers and herbs.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
DDT and Twiddling
The age of the fossil fuels brought out a host of new products and pollutants previously unseen before. As chemists manipulated the molecular structures of oil, new products have been introduced to the market with claimed attributes making our lives simpler, and easier according to the sellers of the products. However, usually over time we discover some externality associated with the product causing an environmental hazard leading to disease and/or destruction of the biosphere we depend on for survival.
One of the first products introduced was DDT as a pesticide and herbicide for agricultural products as well for control of Mosquitoes to combat malaria around the world. DDT was used extensively in rural communities in the 1940's and 1950's while my father was a growing up. My father was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease when he was 30 years old in 1970. As a young man he used to work for farmers and applied DDT in the fields without any protection getting covered from head to toe in the DDT dust. He is going to be 67 in December. He is a shell of the man I knew growing up. At 6'4" and 220 lbs, coming off of life on the farm, he was big, strong and skilled in a number of tasks such as carpentry, auto mechanics, fishing, hunting, plumbing, electricity, etc. Even when he was first diagnosed with the disease that would eventually cripple him, his medication slowed and controlled his digression enough that I still remember a man as a child who was infinitely stronger and capable as the adult man I grew up to be. The community my father grew up in is riddled with cancer and he has lost many friends to a variety of diseases. His younger brother died at the young age of 55 from a brain tumor.
My father was no sissy and I am sure he came off of the farms without the slightest fears of pesticides and herbicides such as DDT. I can imagine he moved into the suburbs around Minneapolis as a young man and brought home pesticides from the hardware store in town and applied it to his garden and lawn by the handful. I was born in 1964 and I would not doubt he would come in from outside and take me crying from my mother's hands in his huge DDT dust covered hands, and slowly rock me and comfort me to sleep. DDT was not banned until 1972.
I've been playing with my balls my whole life. The human body is mostly smooth and hard and the testicles encased in the elastic scrotum provide an interesting exploratory landscape for the fingers to investigate under the covers and away from the sight of everyone. I have observed my son sitting naked on the couch while discovering this pleasure himself and from my childhood I remember my father napping on the couch with his large hands tucked neatly into his pants. Obviously, this is an inherited trait or perhaps universal amongst all males. We are socially conditioned to play with our balls in the privacy of our homes away from the prying eyes of our neighbors. If not for this conditioning, I am sure men would be walking around with their hands stuffed neatly into our pants all day long as we twiddled to our heart's content. After 43 years of playing with my balls I mostly do it subconsciously now as I put myself to sleep. My hands pull and play with my scrotum and softly manipulate each testicle, one at a time, not to derive any sort of pleasure, but rather to just comfort myself. One week ago, when I first noticed the lump on my right testicle, I thought I should just ignore it. Immediately, I did think of testicular cancer and Lance Armstrong and all that, but I also thought even if it was cancer I should be able to heal myself with positive thoughts, a good diet and a healthy lifestyle.
I am not worried about universal health care. In many ways I distrust everything about the modern health industry. Everything is presented to us with scientific certainty derived from statistical analysis. I have had enough post-secondary education to understand that nothing is certain about statistics and what is certain one day from one specific study will be announced later as false due to a new study with slightly different parameters producing different results. So, my natural inclination is to push everything modern and scientific aside and try and live naturally and healthy through diet, exercise and as much distance from the modern world as one raised in it can muster in a week. I didn't want to believe I had cancer and I had told myself, that even if I do have it, I would not undergo putting radiation and chemical poisons in my body to counteract the growing cancer.
On Sunday I read of a recent scientific study showing a correlation between breast cancer and DDT exposure. I suddenly began to think of the possibility that no matter how healthy I lived the seeds of cancer may have been sown in my body as an infant. I thought of my son and my desire to see him grow up and my father crying at the realization that he can no longer play with his grandchildren in a meaningful way like he dreamed of as a young and healthy adult. I called my doctor yesterday and made an appointment by phone for tomorrow at 1:00 pm. I stayed up all night rehearsing what I will say to him.
"Doctor Clavine, I play with my balls a lot and recently I notice a lump on my right testicle. I'd like for you to play with them awhile and see what you think - if it is cancer."
Depending on what he thinks, I will take it from there. I suppose I can stand the thought of putting myself to sleep each night while playing with one less testicle if it came to that. I'll have to think about the chemotherapy and I am sure I will be given plenty of statistics to help me reach a decision.
One of the first products introduced was DDT as a pesticide and herbicide for agricultural products as well for control of Mosquitoes to combat malaria around the world. DDT was used extensively in rural communities in the 1940's and 1950's while my father was a growing up. My father was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease when he was 30 years old in 1970. As a young man he used to work for farmers and applied DDT in the fields without any protection getting covered from head to toe in the DDT dust. He is going to be 67 in December. He is a shell of the man I knew growing up. At 6'4" and 220 lbs, coming off of life on the farm, he was big, strong and skilled in a number of tasks such as carpentry, auto mechanics, fishing, hunting, plumbing, electricity, etc. Even when he was first diagnosed with the disease that would eventually cripple him, his medication slowed and controlled his digression enough that I still remember a man as a child who was infinitely stronger and capable as the adult man I grew up to be. The community my father grew up in is riddled with cancer and he has lost many friends to a variety of diseases. His younger brother died at the young age of 55 from a brain tumor.
My father was no sissy and I am sure he came off of the farms without the slightest fears of pesticides and herbicides such as DDT. I can imagine he moved into the suburbs around Minneapolis as a young man and brought home pesticides from the hardware store in town and applied it to his garden and lawn by the handful. I was born in 1964 and I would not doubt he would come in from outside and take me crying from my mother's hands in his huge DDT dust covered hands, and slowly rock me and comfort me to sleep. DDT was not banned until 1972.
I've been playing with my balls my whole life. The human body is mostly smooth and hard and the testicles encased in the elastic scrotum provide an interesting exploratory landscape for the fingers to investigate under the covers and away from the sight of everyone. I have observed my son sitting naked on the couch while discovering this pleasure himself and from my childhood I remember my father napping on the couch with his large hands tucked neatly into his pants. Obviously, this is an inherited trait or perhaps universal amongst all males. We are socially conditioned to play with our balls in the privacy of our homes away from the prying eyes of our neighbors. If not for this conditioning, I am sure men would be walking around with their hands stuffed neatly into our pants all day long as we twiddled to our heart's content. After 43 years of playing with my balls I mostly do it subconsciously now as I put myself to sleep. My hands pull and play with my scrotum and softly manipulate each testicle, one at a time, not to derive any sort of pleasure, but rather to just comfort myself. One week ago, when I first noticed the lump on my right testicle, I thought I should just ignore it. Immediately, I did think of testicular cancer and Lance Armstrong and all that, but I also thought even if it was cancer I should be able to heal myself with positive thoughts, a good diet and a healthy lifestyle.
I am not worried about universal health care. In many ways I distrust everything about the modern health industry. Everything is presented to us with scientific certainty derived from statistical analysis. I have had enough post-secondary education to understand that nothing is certain about statistics and what is certain one day from one specific study will be announced later as false due to a new study with slightly different parameters producing different results. So, my natural inclination is to push everything modern and scientific aside and try and live naturally and healthy through diet, exercise and as much distance from the modern world as one raised in it can muster in a week. I didn't want to believe I had cancer and I had told myself, that even if I do have it, I would not undergo putting radiation and chemical poisons in my body to counteract the growing cancer.
On Sunday I read of a recent scientific study showing a correlation between breast cancer and DDT exposure. I suddenly began to think of the possibility that no matter how healthy I lived the seeds of cancer may have been sown in my body as an infant. I thought of my son and my desire to see him grow up and my father crying at the realization that he can no longer play with his grandchildren in a meaningful way like he dreamed of as a young and healthy adult. I called my doctor yesterday and made an appointment by phone for tomorrow at 1:00 pm. I stayed up all night rehearsing what I will say to him.
"Doctor Clavine, I play with my balls a lot and recently I notice a lump on my right testicle. I'd like for you to play with them awhile and see what you think - if it is cancer."
Depending on what he thinks, I will take it from there. I suppose I can stand the thought of putting myself to sleep each night while playing with one less testicle if it came to that. I'll have to think about the chemotherapy and I am sure I will be given plenty of statistics to help me reach a decision.
Monday, October 1, 2007
What is it about me?
Midway through my senior year track season, we had a meet against a couple of teams in our conference. Neither team had any good distance runners. I was scheduled to run the two-mile, a leg of the 4 x 800, and then the mile. It was my standard workload during my senior year and it usually left me with 3 blue ribbons. My coach called ma aside before the race. He told me he wanted to see me go out hard the first mile and then coast through the second mile. My teammates were accustomed to seeing me in the lead during these conference races and most invitationals. They were not aware of the instructions from my coach. When I went through the first mile at 4:31, they all started getting excited. I was still holding my pace as I came around the straight away on my 5th lap. My teammates were in a line forming a gauntlet and began chanting, "Andy!, Andy!, Andy!" I felt a sudden rash of embarrassment and shook my head, hoping my teammates would stop. I came through lap five in 5:37 and could still hear the chants of my teammates as I went around the first turn. I began to slow down on the back stretch and as I came around the far turn I saw my teammates formed in a line and the chanting was still going strong. I slowed to a jog and looked at them and told them to knocked it off. When I went went trough lap six the timers called out, " 7:06, 7:07, 7:08". My teammates dispersed and I began picking up my pace again midway down the backstretch when I could see they no longer formed their gauntlet and the chanting had died down, when the the gun went off as I went into my final lap, I could hear "8:29, 8:30, 8:31." My final lap was fast, but I didn't kick and I finished my race in 9:35 with my final mile slower than 5:00 minutes.
I don't know why, but I've never liked bringing attention to myself. I have always been competitive, but I'm always embarrassed by seeking approval from others. So, when I later went on to play in bands, my least favorite part was trying to sell the bands I was in. I could not stand telling people to pay attention to us, because we were good. I just wanted to play and let people form their own opinions as I had fun playing my guitar and singing my songs.
I think I feel the same about writing. It is not that I am humble or modest. I can actually come across as quite arrogant and I don't tolerate mediocrity very well. But, what I most hate are the self-promoters. I have always been sickened by the salesperson mentality and thats what you see in blogs the most. Especially, as time goes on and more and more people join the information age and chime in on any number of subjects while attracting donations and sponsors to their site. Its this that makes me queasy. Obviously, I am not in the market or doing this to attract visitors to my site. But, whenever anything is done these days it is impossible to judge the worth of how we spend our time without considering costs and potential revenues. Worth for anything that we do with our time is judged almost strictly in monetary terms even when we pursue our hobbies and interests, because "time is money" as they say.
That's why I haven't posted in over a month and explains my previous post. Let's see if this post gathers any momentum.
I don't know why, but I've never liked bringing attention to myself. I have always been competitive, but I'm always embarrassed by seeking approval from others. So, when I later went on to play in bands, my least favorite part was trying to sell the bands I was in. I could not stand telling people to pay attention to us, because we were good. I just wanted to play and let people form their own opinions as I had fun playing my guitar and singing my songs.
I think I feel the same about writing. It is not that I am humble or modest. I can actually come across as quite arrogant and I don't tolerate mediocrity very well. But, what I most hate are the self-promoters. I have always been sickened by the salesperson mentality and thats what you see in blogs the most. Especially, as time goes on and more and more people join the information age and chime in on any number of subjects while attracting donations and sponsors to their site. Its this that makes me queasy. Obviously, I am not in the market or doing this to attract visitors to my site. But, whenever anything is done these days it is impossible to judge the worth of how we spend our time without considering costs and potential revenues. Worth for anything that we do with our time is judged almost strictly in monetary terms even when we pursue our hobbies and interests, because "time is money" as they say.
That's why I haven't posted in over a month and explains my previous post. Let's see if this post gathers any momentum.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Verse to a melody in my head, while walking to work
I want to let go
But I’m scared
Don’t mind slippin’ away
But, to nowhere?
I’ll lose my mind
Let go of my past
What will I find?
Change…
Change…
Friday, August 3, 2007
Blogging Journalism
Journalists find witnesses and tell stories of events that people want to read about. In today's world of bloggers, the journalist and the witness are combined. The result is that there are many witnesses to events, but not many talented storytellers recounting the scenes. But, we get some good video.
As my contribution to blogging journalism, since I live in the Twin Cities and often take I35W to and from work, I just want to say that I drove home on Wednesday evening without incident and came home to watch the events unfold on TV like the rest of the nation. I know no one who was at the scene, nor anyone with any connection to the disaster. Life has gone on without much drama over the past few days and I expect it will continue this way for the foreseeable future.
Speaking of the future, I am leaving to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness in Northern Minnesota without the accompanying canoe. I am joining my cronies there for a hike along the Pow Wow Trail for a week of camping, fishing and hiking withe canine companions. I won't be at work, so I will be free of the blog. Do with it as you please while I am away.
As my contribution to blogging journalism, since I live in the Twin Cities and often take I35W to and from work, I just want to say that I drove home on Wednesday evening without incident and came home to watch the events unfold on TV like the rest of the nation. I know no one who was at the scene, nor anyone with any connection to the disaster. Life has gone on without much drama over the past few days and I expect it will continue this way for the foreseeable future.
Speaking of the future, I am leaving to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness in Northern Minnesota without the accompanying canoe. I am joining my cronies there for a hike along the Pow Wow Trail for a week of camping, fishing and hiking withe canine companions. I won't be at work, so I will be free of the blog. Do with it as you please while I am away.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Some people argue that humans are predisposed to violence - that making war is part of our genetic makeup. It has been discovered that one of our closest evolutionary relatives, the chimpanzee (whom we share 99 % DNA with), makes war amongst rival clans in neighboring territories. However, our other closest relative is the Bonobo whom does not make war with other Bonobos (whom we also share 99% of our DNA with) and uses peaceful and non-violent means to solve confrontations with each other.
War and violence are learned behaviors. They are behaviors that are rewarded in competitive societies. But peaceful mindsets can be rewarded as well. I am not sure that humans cannot live peacefully amongst each other. In fact, I think it is necessary that I believe we can. For without the hope that war and violence can be overcome in our increasingly smaller global culture, human suffering and cruelty will continue increase and our prospects for living meaningful and mindful lives will diminish.
We cannot respond to violence with violence nor can we respond to hate with hate.
War and violence are learned behaviors. They are behaviors that are rewarded in competitive societies. But peaceful mindsets can be rewarded as well. I am not sure that humans cannot live peacefully amongst each other. In fact, I think it is necessary that I believe we can. For without the hope that war and violence can be overcome in our increasingly smaller global culture, human suffering and cruelty will continue increase and our prospects for living meaningful and mindful lives will diminish.
We cannot respond to violence with violence nor can we respond to hate with hate.
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When I was in graduate school pursuing a PhD in Economics, I was assigned to teach an Introductory Economics course for my assistantship requirements. I assigned my students twice-weekly readings of Paul Krugman's column in the New York Times editorial page. Of course, his column were political and I risked being accused of endorsing a Liberal agenda and swaying young minds, but Krugman was also an economist and his columns often gave a political perspective from an economic point of view. I was careful to focus in on the economic aspects of his columns and left the political portion open to discussion without criticizing or endorsing his opinions.
Upon leaving graduate school, the New York times began offering a paid service called Timeselect and Krugman's column was temporarily beyond my reach. I was ecstatic to learn the Timeselect was being cancelled a week ago and I could access Krugman's column and blog once more at the New York Times online page.
Krugman has a new book coming out with the same title as his blog "The Conscious of a Liberal." In the Introduction to his Blog, Krugman describes the growing inequities of income in the US. There is little doubt that the current disparities in income between the haves and the have-nots in our society - as well as around the globe - is troubling, to say the least. But Krugman appears to endorse a view that the recent trend, beginning with the Reagan administration, is a return to the previous days in America described as the Gilded age when robber barrens controlled the wealth of industry and had vast influence over political discourse in the US. Under this view, the depression era and post-war build-up of Government infrastructure supporting liberal agendas created an aberration in US history where wealth was distributed more equitably among the members of out society. This was the result of investment in public education, liberal legislation supporting unions and working families, and many other government programs and initiatives. Generally, I am in support of this view - but I also think it only tells part of the story leading to the solution of returning to more government run programs.
While income was distributed more evenly in American society during the great achievements of the post war liberal era, there was also a continuing migration from rural areas to urban and suburban areas as many Americans left income poor, yet self-reliant, households in rural America. This left vast rural areas in the control of large agricultural conglomerates with no ties to the people in these previously resilient communities.
These thriving rural communities may have been populated by households that were described as low income, but as my Grandma said of life on the farm, “We didn’t have no money, but we were never hungry.” The economies in these rural areas were kept aloft through the informal economy that could not be described with income. It can be better illuminated in the oownership records with many small farms owned by individuals with little income, still living pleasant and comfortable lives through their interconnected relationships and economic transactions with the community that were not pecuniary in nature. These transactions can be described as bartering, work-sharing, cooperatives, gifts and neighborliness. What makes the inequality in America today much more daunting than the inequality of the past is the reliance upon income over relationships amongst our neighbors.
In effect, although this postwar liberal era can be seen as a panacea through many lenses - the result of large government projects and initiatives - the liberal policies also contributed (and continue to contribute) to the loss of our rural communities and economies to the economic incentives of greater profits through the capture of economic transactions that previously were not part of the formal economy. Today we see the same trends in privatization in security, warfare, disaster relief and education. A closer look at Krugman's analysis might reveal a coup whereby liberal policies built up large government infrastructures through tax payer dollars enticing waves of Americans from rural areas to abandoned their communities and self-reliant lifestyles for the income supported lives of our modern era. Now the government (which is vastly subservient to corporate agendas) has began the process of selling (giving away) this infrastructure to the wealthy few - leaving in place a huge and much more chilling corporate/military infrastructure designed to serve the money interests while leaving citizens without income, property or the means to sustain themselves.
All of this leads to the current situation with the Eric Prince lead Blackwater along with other security firms. Imagine a future where the Generals are competing with CEO's for government funds. We may be witnessing the onset of the second civil war if congress begins the process of reducing these private mercenary companies. Eric Prince and his family have given vast sums of money to Republican campaigns with radical Christian and nonconservative agendas. He has given zero dollars to democrats. He is in control of the worlds largest private military and is being questioned by a democratic congress. It has the makings of a great Science fiction novel at the very least.