Pop Quiz...

I had an interesting conversation the other day. A gentleman and I were discussing some of the more general points of foreign relations and the sort of broad, sweeping social issues that only crop up in a conversation between two people with absolutely nothing to say. This led, as such things are in these days, to a reprisal of the most unfortunate occurrences of last September in America. Specifically under consideration were the actions of certain exceedingly brave individuals aboard the jetliner which was, thankfully, brought down short of its mark. This turn of events, of course, due to the noble and selfless actions of men who decided to devote the last moments of their lives to saving those of the countless others that were being threatened that morning. My acquaintance--I call him that despite the fact that I could not, under duress, recall his name, and might well fail to remember him if ever I saw him again--was of the opinion that such is the only logical course of action. Being a professed devout Christian, he claimed to be more than comfortably assured of his ultimate outcome, regardless of what happened. But, further, he made it clear that he, as a man, considered it only natural to want to do anything and everything in one's power to thwart such evil as was at work in that situation (My words, very loosely paraphrased from what I recall of the discussion). Several others who happened to overhear gradually made so as to weigh their own views on the subject--isn't it amazing how a populous so universally regarded as apathetic toward social matters can suddenly so completely embrace a concept? Then again, maybe not so much...
Anyway, I don't mind saying that I agree fully and heartily. In such a situation, you're likely to die regardless of your actions, so you may as well make what's left of your life count for something, right? But then I started thinking, really thinking about it. And I had to ask myself: Are you certain? Would you rush headlong in the face of death to protect a bunch people you don't even know? Even knowing that, should you succeed or fail, you're going to die anyway? I'd love to believe that the answer is an emphatic yeas, but...
Sure, I realize that there are people in the world who do just exactly that every day. A great number of them lost their lives on the morning in question, much to the nation's sadness.
But would I? Could I?
I suppose that, unless I should ever find myself in that circumstance, I will never truly know.
What about you?

Dubious Linkmongering

Ah, Free Enterprise.
Now this is what I call determined niche marketing.
Finally, a little something for all you aspiring megalomaniacs out there...

Oh, The Humanity

Every now and again, something happens that makes you think that maybe the human race isn't so bad after all. Sometimes it's some colossal event which reshapes your entire existence, and other times it's just a small thing that you might not even notice until long after it is over. Whatever form it takes, your whole world view is altered, even if only a little. Suddenly, that whole "fellowship of man", "goodwill to all" thing makes a lot of sense. Your heart feels a little lighter at that moment, doesn't it? You finally feel as though you are a small part of some large thing that's actually worth being a member of. Everything looks a little brighter, and tomorrow is just a day away, as the song says. And then some ambassador of the great goodwill human fellowship tries to kick you in the proverbial teeth...
I was not having the best of days when the fire occurred. It was only an extremely minor fire, property damage was minimal, no lives lost, no animals were harmed in the filming of this afternoon. Due to the irritatingly flammable nature of gasoline vapors, said minor fire (which would have been just about right for the roasting of marshmallows were it not for the fumes) was reluctant to be extinguished. So I attempt to cover the burning material with dirt, the theory being that if I buried it, I wouldn't have to see it, and could comfortably pretend it didn't happen. No, obviously I was trying to deprive it of oxygen. I don't have to tell you that, with the benefit of combustible petroleum products, my fire only chuckled merrily at my attempts to kill it, and even made a light-hearted go at burning the dirt, just to make me look foolish. Eventually, with the aid of a belated fire extinguisher, all was made well. So now I'm left with the charred remains of my loyal--if somewhat cantankerous--lawnmower. As I poke despondently at some of the less identifiable bits, a gentleman--I assume a guest of a neighbor--strides over, equipped with a smallish dog and that hideously smug grin common to all those who have arrived at the scene of important work just in time to fail to be required to assist with any of it. All the same, he did make a mighty effort at carrying out the last and most important task associated with any such event, namely pacing about wearing a furiously thoughtful expression and giving the illusion of possessing some sort of applicable knowledge which might rectify the situation. And I was thankful for the help, because, on a job of this magnitude, it would take one man, even one of my skill and experience, a weekend's solid work to get the thing glowered at properly. Obviously feeling that the extent of his skill had been reached, my nameless acquaintance made his leave. As I watched him go, I couldn't help feeling pretty good about everything in general. I mean, sure, he hadn't managed, strictly speaking, actually to accomplish anything of any real tangible benefit. But at least he'd made a token effort. My estimation of him was quite high then, and I even, in a brief flash of intense idealism (or was it neurological instability?), began to believe that maybe, just maybe, the human race as a whole was at least marginally worth the difficulties and discomforts entailed in not succumbing to the terribly powerful urge one feels on a daily basis to conduct interpersonal relations via a cattle prod.
Then I looked around. There, at my feet, was the smallish dog, looking up at me in that particular manner that conveys the age-old universal message of blissful ignorance. Great, fine, so I shooed the beast away and went back to work. Not more than a few minutes later, I notice that the animal is still hanging about. Long story short, all my numerous endeavors at canine removal were emphatically unsuccessful. Upon closer observation, I realized, with disgust, that the pitiful creature has, in all likelihood, been terribly mistreated in the past. I thought at length, and I've decided that the man, who I have not, I remind you, ever seen before, decided to rid himself of one unwanted pet. The dog, judging from his behavior, could not be happier with that arrangement. And here I stand, with a singed and now ever so slightly misshapen lawn tractor, plus one small dog. For all I know, it might still be standing around somewhere outside, waiting for me to come and do something about it.
I have no doubt whatsoever that I will never again set eyes upon the enigmatic stranger.
People really make you think, sometimes.
Meanwhile, my grass is laughing at me...

Smite If You Will

Militant religious types never fail to amuse me. A wise and observant individual (whose name I have forgotten, though suffice it to say that it is not me) once said:

"A holy war is like two people arguing over who has the biggest imaginary friend."

To all such people, I have only one thing to say. Prepare yourself, for this is a profound insight.
Someone is wrong.
That's right. Everyone is convinced that theirs is the superior faith, and the only one to guarantee eternal salvation and so forth. But someone has to be wrong.
Think carefully about what, if anything, you believe. Be sure you know well your faith, and whence its fundaments lie. Study hard, children. There will be a test afterward.

As Long As He's Not Driving...

All these years, I had suspected Finland of being a rather quiet, low-temperature geological element of Europe. Little did I realize that its inhabitants were, in fact, insane. It seems that the unassuming Fins have achieved that for which American consumer technology designers have striven since the days of the Revolutionary War: they have designd a media format in which Rush Limbaugh is actually tolerable. Haha, no, no, of course you know I jest. It is a well known scientific law that El Rushbo is psychologically toxic to all sentient beings, elliciting nausea, neurological distress, and Conservativism in any human within a five-mile radius. No, what they've actually done is to devise a method whereby a cellular phone can be attatched to a dog. You heard me. According to a recent article on Forbes.com, Finland-based Benefon has joined with Pointer Systems--makers of technology for tracking people--to form a sysem for attatching cell phones to hunting dogs. Now, this may seem at first to be a pretty simple and unremarkeable thing to conceive of, but I'm willing to bet that you didn't think of it. The reasons given for this venture include GPS tracking and--I am very serious--the ability to dial up the dog's number in order to transmit verbal instructions. My only question is: How long would it take the owner to figure out that you and your friends were back in town at a pay telephone instructing Fido to play dead and to lick himself at critical hunting-related moments?

Principled Pontification

Today was not a good day, principle-wise.
I was, for reasons which are still somewhat unclear to even myself, a guest in the home of a couple of my less distant relations this afternoon. Let me first stress that I am fond of both of these individuals, man and wife. They are, in fact, perhaps the only members of my family outside the nuclear unit that I can abide at all. The wife--my great-aunt, specifically, though I generally don't bother with such designations at that degree of removal--is (and I say this with the utmost respect), in the immortal words of Archie Bunker, a dingbat. She is not unintelligent, but she is of a rural background, and is thus of an extremely provincial mindset. I see nothing at all wrong with this, except for the fact that she insists on affecting an insufferable worldly, cosmopolitan attitude. Also, she is one of that peculiar breed of individual who believes it impossible to possess knowledge without sharing it with others. So, as we sat around the kitchen table, she commenced to hold forth on a wide and varied array of things which form only a blur in my mind at present. The topics addressed ranged from her role in the local church--did I mention that she is also an impossibly pious church-going Baptist?--to what she planned to do with her husband's belongings when he died. (Don't ask me.) Finally she alighted on the subject of the Hispanic family that had recently moved in next door, and had been attending their church on occasion. By this I mean, she proceeded to talk condescendingly about them, but in such a sanctimonious and yet sincerely kindly manner that it came off sickening rather than offensive. From both this discourse, and my past dealings with her, I am convinced that, both as a person, and as a good Christian, she would never deign to be anything so vulgar as racist. She simply looks quietly, meekly down on all members of other races than her own as poor, piteous creatures of some slightly lower order. At this point, I will note, for the record, that racism or bigotry in any form inspires me to express my powers of reason via a stout stick. She sat lecturing all those present on the relative virtues, or lack thereof, of her Latino neighbors in the same matter-of-fact way that one might discuss some failing in a wayward dog, or some other such thing. Specifically, she was outlining various aspects of "their culture" by which it was known (for she stated all of it as though it were plain as the law of gravity or of entropy) that young women of Hispanic nations or descent were allowed, encouraged, even socially expected, to be--this is her terminology--"free with their bodies" beyond the age of fifteen. In other words, beyond puberty, Latinas are whores, or at best distastefully fecund breeding machines. This naturally came as something of a shock to me. For, in my experience, Hispanics, both male and female, are by nature so reserved and conservative--especially in matters of romance and sexuality--as to make the typical American appear to be a pig gorging at society's trough of hedonism (I don' think this is NECESSARILY a bad thing, either, by the way). Being, as ever, a tireless combatant of ignorance, it occurred to me to challenge this flagrant abuse of truth. But something stayed my tongue. Be it familial respect, or observance of some unspoken convention forbidding one to point out foolish ethnocentrism and provincial ignorance in one's hostess, or simply the knowledge that the dear woman was thoroughly unequipped to defend herself intellectually, I know not. But I held my silence, consoling myself that I, at least, knew better.
But I've done a good deal of reflecting on the matter since, and I've come to an unnerving conclusion. I think, at bottom, that which bade me not speak out was not some remnant of social grace, or ponderous chivalry, or any such thing so noble. I fear it that it might have been laziness. Perhaps it was just simpler not to say anything, easier to go with the flow rather than jump the dam. Could it be that I am really so apathetic, so far removed from something to believe in that even my proudest-guarded creed--that of truth in knowledge, and knowledge of truth, for one and all--fails me? I sincerely hope this is not the case, but I am certainly shaken by it.
Consider this. What good are the noblest of our ideals, when we won't even fight for the simplest of our principles?
What does it say about me, about any person, when a principle is just no longer worth the effort of defense?

My advice, to all, is to know well what you believe, and even more importantly, why you believe it. When you know these things, stand firm by them. Never sublimate your principles, no matter how good the reasons may seem.

Think on, friends.

Tax Dollars At Work

"A tax on plastic shopping bags in the Republic of Ireland has cut their use by more than 90% and raised millions of euros in revenue, the government says."

This is beyond commentary. But, since it's my blog, I feel that I should be the one to say something, if something must indeed be said. All of you out there who have so much fun bashing Uncle Sam, I don't want to hear another word.