meade_fischer

I needed a present for my nephew as he entered kindergarten, so I bought him a rifle. I tried to explain to him that he should practice extensively with it, as it could save his life fifteen years from now in Afghanistan.

As I thought more about this, it occurred to me that it's not just my nephew's problem, so I suggested to the school board that they substitute a children's version of basic training for the usual physical education. I argued, correctly, I believe, that this would give them excellent physical conditioning and would be more relevant than kickball, flag football or any of the other games that have no application in the real world.

The board is considering my idea, and while they agree that it is practical, they are concerned about the public reaction to admitting that the war will still be a hot item in 2025. One board member admitted that everyone realizes this on a subliminal level, but no one really wants to point to the metaphorical elephant in the room.

He said, "Let's find a way to sugar coat this, and then we'll see if it flies."

I needed a present for my nephew as he entered kindergarten, so I bought him a rifle. I tried to explain to him that he should practice extensively with it, as it could save his life fifteen years from now in Afghanistan.

As I thought more about this, it occurred to me that it's not just my nephew's problem, so I suggested to the school board that they substitute a children's version of basic training for the usual physical education. I argued, correctly, I believe, that this would give them excellent physical conditioning and would be more relevant than kickball, flag football or any of the other games that have no application in the real world.

The board is considering my idea, and while they agree that it is practical, they are concerned about the public reaction to admitting that the war will still be a hot item in 2025. One board member admitted that everyone realizes this on a subliminal level, but no one really wants to point to the metaphorical elephant in the room.

He said, "Let's find a way to sugar coat this, and then we'll see if it flies."

I could relate to a quote from President Obama in an article about how he will send several thousand more military personnel to Afghanistan, to "Finish the job" begun eight years ago. I know how it feels to not want to give up on a big project undertaken over a long period of time.

You see, eight years ago I got the brilliant idea to remodel my 3/2 rancher into a copy of the Taj Mahal. At the time people warned me that it was too just big of a job, too unrealistic, but I was a man with a vision.

The first problem I ran into was the local building codes about building height in residential neighborhoods. But after getting special permits and modifying the height of the towers, I was ready to proceed. However replacing the windows was a bigger problem, leaving us without any windows at all during the coldest winter of the decade.

Also, I never realized how expensive that ancient siding would be in modern America, so I sill have much of that unfinished. Of course, opening up the interior required knocking out some walls, so much of the house has temporary bracing.

Big changes require moving lots of stuff, so currently the wiring and plumbing are pretty much torn out, and we're using candles and an out house.

Now, after eight years, my negative friends are still urging me to give it up before things get even worse and more expensive. No way. I've already put more into the remodel than I paid for the place. Besides, I'm no quitter.

I now figure that in another three to four years and another maybe third of a million I'll have, while not exactly a copy of the Taj Mahal, but at least something that sort of resembles it and hopefully has indoor plumbing.

Anyway, President Obama, I know what you're going through. Hang in there.

After years of spiritual seeking, rejecting traditional religions and doing all the eastern mysticism stuff, I’ve finally discovered the true religion. It’s actually a variation on a very old idea, polytheism.

After much meditation and observation, I’ve concluded that the gods lurk among us. They wander around in the guise of those demented homeless bums who stumble about in the gutters of our cities.

Have you ever noticed that they talk loudly to themselves. Well, I’ve stopped to listen, and their cryptic statements can only be understood as cosmic revelation. The arguments they have with themselves are the great philosophical debates of our time. Seriously, this stuff is really heavy.

I remember a disheveled bum who staggered around the streets of downtown Long Beach some years back. I started to notice that whenever his monologs turned angry and he started to shout at himself, within 48 hours we would get rain. I’m convinced that each of these characters is the god of some natural force, and we won’t know which one until we insult one of them and perhaps fall victim to a flood.

I know that some would say that this is merely coincidence, but the three great western religions were founded on less empirical evidence. Oh sure, I could be wrong, but I’m not about to risk a lightning strike by rejecting these compelling facts.

Lately, I’ve taken to bundling up grains, fruits and veggies and stacking the bundles in my trunk. Now, whenever I see one of these gods, I stop, pull out a bundle and lay it at his or her feet as a sacrifice.

Well, I can tell you it is working. I haven’t experienced a plague, lightning, oozing sores, exploding animals, the reversal of gravity or an attack by one of my many enemies. I’m living under the protection of the gods, and I can now cross the street even without looking both ways.

Those of you who still believe in only one god, remember that a single god can’t be everywhere to watch everyone. If you want to be safe and secure, you need hundreds, maybe thousands of gods looking out for you.

Let me tell you about Joe. I won’t give out his last name. A few years ago he decided to invest in a home for his young family. He scraped together all his savings and any other money he could scrounge up in order to make a down payment. He managed to purchase a nice home in a good neighborhood with good schools. He planed to live there many years, raise his kids, live the American dream.

His problems started with the issue of home maintenance. He was warned when he bought that he needed to have the place checked for termites every 3 to 5 years, but all that cost money, so he ignored it. When the house needed painting, he didn’t have time to do it himself, and the cost of a contractor was more than he wanted to pay. As a result, the paint peeled, and eventually dry rot got into the wood siding.

Then there were the cracks in the foundation, which he figured were no big deal, as most of the foundation looked pretty good. Then when the roof leaked\ and he was told it needed replacement, he tried to patch it himself, but unfortunately, water leaked into the attic.

To make a long story mercifully short, within a few years the deferred maintenance became such a huge issue that it would have cost a small fortune to fix the growing problems. It fact, the house was in such bad shape that it was unsafe and unhealthy, and Joe was forced to sell for half what he paid. I hear the new owners leveled the place and rebuilt.

Now Joe and his family live in a two bedroom apartment that rents for $300 more than his old mortgage payment.

Now, substitute “State of California” for “Joe.”

Some in the Muslim world want an international treaty to protect religious symbols and beliefs from mockery, a ban on blasphemy. For openers, that would run counter to our cherished right to free speech. It would also open a huge grey area: what constitutes blasphemy?

All the rhetoric that culminated in the Fort Hood killings could be protected by such a ban, as would the web sites promoting al-Qaida.

I’m sure that those Muslim countries that are pushing this are not thinking about protecting Christianity and Judaism from blasphemy, but once this can of worms is opened, what’s sauce for the goose, as they say, is sauce for the gander. Like it or not, “Allah is great; kill the infidels” would be seen as also unacceptable.

What next, once the standard religious sects of the western big three are protected, will we also have to ban denigrating the various kooky cults that spring up? No one really wanted to mock Jim Jones and his Jonestown experiment before the poison cool-aide incident. What about David Koresch? Those are just the prominent names that pop out of a very long list.

Taking this one step further, what about those of us who are atheists, a group of people who have only been able to come out of the closest in recent decades and who are still shunned by a large segment of society. Those of us who equate even conventional religion with kooky cults would likely be victims of witch hunts, jailed and persecuted just as we were for centuries.

Whether you are non-religious, conventionally religious, nominally religious or orthodox, to be kept from observing that the emperor has no clothes means the emperor, in all his guises, can run amok and naked through civilized society.

The politically correct among us may well fall for this blasphemy ban, thinking that we can’t criticize another culture’s beliefs, no matter what form they take. My view on that can be illustrated by what some friends have been sending me: strange lines that confused me until it was explained that they were from a game called Clue, something I’m not familiar with. However, whether you play that game or not, you should already know that the first step to understanding the complexity of anything is to start getting clues to people’s motives. Every clue warns me to reject this notion in any of its forms.

I was watching some middle school students playing on the internet, and several of them were watching Taylor Swift videos. Looking over their shoulders, I found it hard to take my eyes off of Swift. Because the students were wearing headphones, I couldn’t hear the music, which, in retrospect, was a good thing.

OK, I don’t like country music. More precisely, to me country music is like well bitten finger nails raked down an old fashioned blackboard, played through an amp. with bad feedback.

Anyway, curiosity got the better of me, and I listened to a preview of some of her music on the internet. She has a rather ordinary, somewhat metallic country voice. And, no, I wouldn’t buy her album.

However, with a face like that, even the finest voice would fall short. Being male, knowing a face like that is out there somewhere is enough to let me know that the world is a benign place and that somehow, somewhere, all will be sweetness and light. All I have to do is hit the mute button and sit back and enjoy.

For those who search for inspiring vistas, there is a hike along Big Sur’s ridges that will print panoramas on the memory chip of the mind. This is the section of the North Coast Ridge Road from the Ventana Inn to Timber Top and down to Highway One.

 

Within a fifteen minute walk from the parking lot, the vistas open up, and for the rest of the hike there are 180 to 360 degree views of the Big Sur Coast and the rugged Ventanas.

 

This hike, somewhere between nine and ten and a half miles, is unpaved  and almost totally resident access and fire road, and while there is something charming and other worldly about looking down at a blanket of summer fog that stretches to the horizon, the real panoramas are reserved for the late fall through early spring. Clear windy days and days after a rain offer the best conditions, days when the farthest peaks seem close enough to grab.

 

While one can walk up the ridge and return the same way, the full hike requires at least two vehicles and a short shuttle. Drive past the Big Sur valley to Coast Gallery and continue about 500 yards.  There are some old stock pens on the inland side of the road, along with room to park a few cars. Leave a vehicle there and go back north about five miles to the Ventana Inn. Go up the hill, and park in the lower lot, below the inn and restaurant. If you feel like splurging, eat at the inn, and if you feel like seriously splurging, rent a room for the night.

 

The parking lot is just before a gate, where it becomes a dirt road. Only the few residents on the ridge and the forest service are allowed to drive the road. It’s a wide, dirt road with a gentle to moderate grade, a steady uphill for about four miles to the top of the ridge, at 2,600 feet, where the road undulates, climbing slightly to Timber top at about 3,000 feet. 

 

By mile one the vistas open up. The Ventana Inn lies just below, and the Post Ranch is just west of the highway. By mile two, there are views up the coast to Point Sur and the lighthouse, along with Mount Manual, just north of the gorge, the massive 4,000 foot mountain that looms over the Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park. Then the road turns south again, and there is the first view of the rugged peaks of the Ventana, and on a clear day they seem only yards away.

 

The road continues to climb and twist, offering views almost straight down to the ocean, past grass-covered hills and densely wooded canyons. At each turn there is a new view of Point Sur, 15 miles to the north.

 

The road levels out about four miles up as it passes several homes, remote nests for people who have no need of neighbors. Looking down from an outcropping near the top, the trail seems like a snake twisting away to shaded canyons. Near the few homes at the ridge top, the Terrace Creek trail branches off. This trail drops about a mile and a half, through grass and oak, down to redwoods and the terraced creek that gives the trail its name. Terrace Creek trail ends at the Pine Ridge Trail, and an alternate hike would be down Terrace Creek to the trail camp and north five more miles to the Forest Service parking lot. 

 

To do this alternate hike, a car would be left at the Forest Service parking lot, about two miles north of the Ventana Inn. This hike would be about 10 to 11 miles.

 

While the side trip down Terrace Creek is well worth the extra effort, the Coast Ridge Road continues on, with views that just seem to get better. There is another side road leading to another, even more remote home. Soon there is another gate, the end of human habitat. Beyond the gate, there is the Ventana wilderness to the left and a vertical drop to the Pacific Ocean to the right.

 

From the gate to Timber Top is about two more miles. Along the way, there is grove of some of the largest madrones I’ve ever seen. The shade of these trees makes a good place to stop for lunch and a magnificent view. An alternative lunch stop is at the campground at Timber top, another mile south. 

 

Timber Top is a small peak, and the Coast Ridge Road bends inland to go around it, so if the hiker finds herself away from the coastal view and dropping behind a small mountain, she’s missed the exit. 

 

Before arriving at Timber Top, a dirt bank rises up, blocking the view of the ocean. A side trail exits up and over that bank. Then it turns into a single track trail that drops along the side of the hill for a few dozen yards before coming to the trail camp and old stock pens at Timber Top. There is an old water tank there and other signs of days when someone ran cattle on the ridge. It’s worth exploring, and the hike a few yards to the top offers even finer views.

 

Below the camp and old pens, the trail, now widening out to something close to a jeep track, runs out along a westward ridge before dropping out of sight. This is the start of Borronda Ridge, an old fire road that drops about two and a half to three miles to Highway One. From this point on the hiker has to consciously remind himself to watch where he’s going, as the views are breathtaking and hard to look away from.

 

It is literally all down hill from here on. The trail drops almost 3,000 feet in under three miles. The trail is easy to follow, and when in doubt, head downward. With the exception of a small clump of trees, the entire route is grass and small shrubs, allowing views of almost the entire Big Sur coast at every footfall.

 

If taking this hike in early spring, the wildflowers along the way are rich and spectacular, and on the roadway, where there is little vegetation, tiny beautiful flowers have found their niche. These are what a friend’s grand kids call belly flowers, meaning you have to get down on your belly to really see them. I recommend being a kid again and actually doing that.

 

During the summer, the hiker will go from clear, sunny skies to fog right about 2,000 feet elevation, but the rest of the year it is clear top to bottom. At about this point there is a rock outcropping just off the trail, where the hiker can look straight down. It was there I once watched a small group of deer, unaware of me almost directly above.

 

About half way down the grassland gives way to coastal chaparral.

 

Shortly before the bottom, the trail passes under the power lines, and there is a road off to the left that leads to private property, but the main trail continues down toward the highway and ocean until arriving at the bottom at the old stock pens where at one time people must have loaded cattle into trucks. 

Just watched “The Duchess,” set in the 1780s, about the duchess of Devonshire. The woman, trapped in an unhappy marriage is prevented by her rich and powerful husband from having a fulfilling relationship with a man she loves.

 

Apparently, the duke only married her to obtain a male heir. Beyond that, she had no real rights or purpose.  She was forced by her husband to end her romantic relationship or lose her children forever.  

 

Things have improved for women in the last 200 plus years, but there is still the underlying assumption that a woman is primarily a vehicle for producing a man’s children. Case in point is the health care debate and abortion as a sticking point that could derail the vote.

 

Many have cloaked this issue in religious terms, but I find that religion is often used to slip a sugar coating over a bitter social pill. This isn’t about anyone’s god; it’s about control and who has or hasn’t it.

 

We all have our views on abortion, from those who would deny any abortion to any woman at any time, to my view: mandatory abortion unless the parents could prove they have parental skill, emotionally maturity and sufficient financial resources to raise a child.

 

As much as I think I’m right, I wouldn’t want to impose my position on everyone else. I’m egocentric, but not that egocentric.  If I would deny my right, based on massive wisdom, to make the rules, I certainly would balk at other, less enlightened, people making rules for everyone, everywhere. 

 

It’s time to live and let live. A fetus is just a fetus, your religion is just one of many world views and, in case you don’t read the news, life isn’t all that precious these days.

For a number of years Americans have become more politically correct, more sensitive as it were. Some of this has had a positive effect. Many really insulting terms have all but vanished from conversation. We tend not to make fun of people who are socially or physically disadvantaged, at least not publicly. However, like any social trend, political correctness has moved beyond reasonable civility to something approaching the emperor’s new clothes.

 

A case in point is Nidal Milik Hasan, the army psychiatrist who killed 13 and wounded 29. All the warning signs were there. His anti American comments and his odd behavior were noted by many, yet nothing was done. It would have been politically incorrect to profile him because he was a Muslim, that he might be a terrorist or just noting that he might be dangerously disturbed. As a result the military experienced a tragedy that could have easily been averted.

 

What will be the next step? Given human nature, it will be both rationalization and denial or over reaction, either of which would be a mistake. Those to whom political correctness is almost a religion will caution that this was such an aberration, that it should be dismissed as something unpredictable and never to happen again. The knee-jerk, quick to anger folks will be ready for an anti Muslim witch hunt. Somewhere between the extremes lies reason.

 

Social problems tend to have faces and don’t occur in a vacuum. Obviously, post menopausal women, old men in suspenders and toddlers don’t engage in gang activity. Therefore, politically correct or not, we tend to watch certain groups of young men.  By the same token, when worried about radical Muslim, anti American activity, we don’t waste our time looking at girl scouts, Southern Baptist choir members or soccer moms. Yes, looking at certain people as more likely to be involved in these things is profiling, and profiling used to harass, intimidate and persecute an entire demographic group is wrong. However, when a society is subjected to particular types of crime, a certain cautious watchfulness, a less hysterical profiling, is reasonable and at times necessary.

 

In the real world, you don’t want to arrest everyone who looks like an Arab, but if several men in masks, holding a crate of dynamite, are standing in the middle of the Golden Gate Bridge, you might just want to ask them what they’re up to.

Recently I watched a special on the late Mae West, and apart from her full and interesting life, something notable struck me.

 

Several times interviewees who recalled her made similar comments. In essence they said that she had so become the persona of public person Mae West that the real person Mae West had somehow disappeared.  I hope I wasn’t the only person who thought that rather odd, particularly so given the fact that the interviewees were theater people.

 

Let’s look at this idea. Do any of us know anyone who isn’t some public persona?  Really, now. If we do, that person must be really uninteresting. Imagine being just yourself, just that little neighborhood girl or boy who, even after several decades, has never moved beyond that person. And even if you can think of one, hasn’t that person worked at maintaining that image long beyond its shelf life?

 

Somewhere during the growing up period we all attach our name to some personality, some image we think is interesting or cool. Then, that image comes into play in all our actions and reactions. With each day, each interaction, we place another layer of varnish over that image, and by the time we are into full maturity, we have polished and perfected that image. We have fully become that person.

 

That’s how personality grows, like a bit of grit that over the years becomes a pearl.

 

In simplistic terms, we are the respectable banker, the intellectual, the town drunk, the bleeding heart, the class clown, the jock, the ditzy blond, the steady worker, the good mom or the pillar of the community. We could all have tee shirts made with our labels printed on them.

 

At the heart of this is the question of whether we are something fully realized at birth or some work in progress with ourselves as both the artist and architect. I believe that few moments of serious reflection will answer that question for any honest person.

 

I know that long ago I started to think about who this person with the strange name, “Meade” was all about. It couldn’t, as I believed, be the insecure, shy and boring child I was at the time. I was more than that, a troubled, creative child, a complex and convoluted soul, a character, perhaps even more. With each layer, I grew, and I liked the direction I was growing in, so I added more layers until I became whoever I am today, and like Mae West, I can’t even relate to any question as to whether this is the real me or a persona. It is all I have, all I am, and it took many years to evolve.

 

Yes, each day I rise, get into costume and prepare for the role of me. I’ve perfected this role; I’m better at being me than anyone else, and I know many people who enjoy the performance. Beside, I haven’t a clue how to be anyone else.

 

But no, I don’t deserve an academy award for this performance, no more than any of you do. None of us is the star. Rather, we are all summer stock, and the play seems so, well so real.

 

 

The other day an interesting news item caught my attention. CIT Group declared bankruptcy, and along with other investors, the US Government will likely lose $2.3 billion of taxpayers (our) money. At least our elected officials refused a second infusion of cash.

 

While they were getting all those billions that didn’t help, in other parts of the country businesses were shutting down, putting many out of work. In the same issue of the paper there was a story about some town in the heartland, where the major employer, a furniture manufacturing company, shut down, almost destroying the town. I couldn’t help wondering if 100 grand of that wasted $2.3 billion might have saved this small town. Yet, this was only one small town out of many caught in this recession/depression, the term you use determined by how it has affected you and yours.

 

Of course, this bankruptcy only affects the holding company, not operating subsidiaries such as CIT Bank. Now, I’m no financier nor economist, so all that hair splitting makes no sense at all to me. Investors lose money, but some or most of the company goes on making money.

 

The part of the story that amazed and amused me the most was that CIT has retained Evercore Partners and FTI Consulting as its financial advisers. Now, let’s slow this down for those of us who are financially challenged. CIT is a financial institution, a really big one. Financing and moving money is what they do, and they hire people who are trained professionals to do all that financing. I doubt seriously if they hire auto mechanics or house painters to make loans and investments. So, why on earth do they need to hire other people to advise them?  I’m beginning to understand how we lost that $2.3 billion

Saw a banner along Highway 1 in Moss Landing: “Not smart enough for science?  Try religion.”  I got a laugh out of it, but then, as serendipity would have it, someone sent me an article: In the United States, more people believe that houses can be haunted by the dead than believe that the living can cause climate change.

 

The percentage of people who believe humans are contributing to global warming has dropped to 36%, while those who believe that ghosts haunt houses stands at 37%. Also, and I didn’t make this up, the haunted house numbers are higher and the warming numbers lower among conservatives and church goers. So, we come full turn to the banner on the highway.

 

Now, in all fairness, the banner doesn’t have it quite right. It isn’t that these people aren’t necessarily smart. Stupidity is a condition of birth. If you are born a 40 watt bulb in a 100 watt world, you can’t do very much about it. At issue here is ignorance.

 

Ignorance is a personal choice made by people who want simple explanations that make them feel secure, rather than take the effort to delve into matters, think them out and try for a deeper understanding. Most issues are complex, having many shades of gray, making even many smart people uncomfortable. It’s so much easier to frame everything as right or wrong, good or evil, black or white, left or right or people like us vs. people like them. I have a sneaking suspicion that religion got its start catering to that gnawing need in people.

 

However, with mounting scientific evidence for global climate change, evidence that can be understood with only the application of the high school chemistry class we took, people who disbelieve that the huge amount of carbon spewing from our cars and industries is going into the atmosphere and having an effect on weather, no longer simply have their heads in the sand. Rather, they have their heads in a much darker, less pleasant place.

 

On the other hand, haunted houses remain a romantic notion, made lovable in films like “The Ghost and Mrs. Muir.”  While there is no scientific evidence for ghosts, and while it is highly unlikely that something remains after death that is capable of haunting, the possibility that there are ghosts and haunted houses can’t be totally disproved.

 

While ghosts are elusive and hard to prove, we can roughly measure the carbon that we, through modern industrial technology, are putting into the atmosphere. We also know how carbon combines and how it affects sunlight.

 

Religion doesn’t necessarily take sides against atmospheric science and for the paranormal. It does, however, predispose people to simplistic and erroneous answers.

 

The sweat lodge ordeal was in the news again, this time a survivor told her story. What caught my eye right away was that people paid $9,000 or more for this retreat. Then upon reading further, I found that for this sizable sum, the people fasted for five days, were deprived of sleep and subjected to mind altering breathing exercises, all that before they were herded into a sweat lodge that made many ill and killed two.

 

A spokesman for the character who ran this perverse party said that many people had “amazing experiences,” which is code for hallucinations.  I might suggest any easier way to have these experiences; go pick some magic mushrooms. You can probably pick up a field guide to these for around 20 bucks, saving $8,980. But then again, you wouldn’t get to say you were at a “Spiritual Warrior” event.

 

What exactly does “spiritual” mean?  I hate to even open that can of worms. You could probably ask a hundred people and get 99 different answers, some of them in the twilight zone of outer “new age.”  One can claim to see spirits, as in ghosts. People can be in good spirits, have spirited conversations, drink distilled spirits or even believe that there is some nebulous thing within a person that is eternal and not part of the body, as in a soul.

 

I guess these people were spiritual seekers with money to burn, and to paraphrase P.T. Barnum, there’s a seeker born every minute. So, as much as I would like to see the organizer of the retreat, James Arthur Ray, thrown in prison, I have to put much of the blame on the people who paid for the right to be tired, hungry, disoriented and physically ill. When people are that credulous, how tempting it is to offer them some mystical song and dance and laugh all the way to the bank.

 

And if anyone still thinks all this “Spiritual Warrior” stuff makes sense, I have an actual recording of a choir of angels that will cause you to transcend your mundane daily lives. Just send me a check.

The world’s first successful soul transplant was performed yesterday at the UC transplant center in San Francisco, by Dr. Les Apt.

 

Dr. Apt explained the difficulties involved. “The major problem was finding the soul. It is invisible under normal light. With the discovery of the ultra yellow spectrum, we were finally able to see the elusive little dickens.”  Ultra yellow light was accidentally discovered at Apple’s research facility while they were trying to develop a computer so fast that it would second guess the operator, giving the human an answer minutes before he posed the question.

 

Dr. Apt also explained the handling of the soul. “It’s kind of a slippery, shapeless thing, so we had to develop magnetic forceps to keep it from sliding through our fingers.”

 

Since there were no human souls available, Apt’s team was forced to use a pig soul. “It’s a bit larger and has fewer blemishes,” said Dr. Apt. “But otherwise, it’s an almost perfect fit.”

 

Not everyone applauds this breakthrough. Rev. Ben Dover of the Moral Minority said, in a televised statement, “This is contrary to God’s law of one soul, one person. Also, we object to the use of a pig’s soul. If God had wanted us to have animal parts, He would have made us part of the animal kingdom.”  He also added that he was afraid the godless secular humanists would start harvesting souls from aborted fetuses.

 

One of the problems with this procedure is that people are unlikely to leave their souls to medical science. Moral philosopher Rev. Ima Wise explained the problem. “People spend a lifetime preparing their souls for heaven. What would happen of the recipient misuses it, and the soul ends up in hell?”

 

We asked Dr. Apt how the patient, whose name has been withheld, is doing after the procedure. “He’s awake and alert. His family said he used to be a rather difficult fellow, but now he seems much nicer and more congenial.”

 

Is it possible for a person to live without a soul? Medical researcher, Martin Mink said, “It is possible for a person to exist, but he or she wouldn’t be alive and aware in the same way we are. They would be, in essence, little more than insensitive automatons. We are only aware of a couple of examples, both commentators on Fox News.”

 

Asked about where the soul connects to the body, Dr. Apt chuckled. “You know, Rene Descartes was right all along. We just sewed it on to the pineal gland. Only took a few minutes.”

Think back to grade school. We all learned, or were supposed to learn, the difference between fact and opinion. However, “belief” was never included in those lessons, which was an unfortunate omission.

 

Let’s examine the difference, using a benign example: Strawberries. Here’s a fact: Strawberries are an edible fruit. No problem there.  Now an opinion: I think strawberries are the best fruit. Expresses a personal preference; no problem.  Now here’s where we get into some serious conflicts, the morphing of opinion into belief: Strawberries are the world’s best fruit.  This leaves no room for argument. If someone responds with, “I prefer blackberries,” the believer comes back with something like, “What’s wrong with you, not preferring the world’s best fruit?”

 

Now, all you have to do is substitute for strawberries any statement about politics, religion, social mores, personal philosophy, clothing styles or even taste in music, and you can see how misunderstandings, feuds and even wars can begin.  

 

Sometimes you need to take out those old beliefs, dust them off, examine them and change or discard them if necessary.

I realized how bad the economy was when I got a call from my daughter, asking if she could move home. I’d almost said yes before I remembered I don’t have a daughter.  When I told her that, she replied that my insensitivity was the reason she was in rehab.

 

Nonsense. She’s in rehab because people just can’t afford drugs these days. Perhaps she, and others in her situation should hit up the churches for help, as they are the only institutions with money to burn.

 

Come to think of it, that may be the way to use some of the empty stores that closed last year. For example, all those empty Circuit City stores could be sold to churches, with maybe an advertising campaign: “join now and enjoy hi-def heaven.”

 

And why shouldn’t they advertise on TV? Everyone else does. I can just see it on some late night cable channel: “Special this week. We’ll save your soul for $19.95, and if you call today, we’ll include this lovely steak knife set at no extra charge.”

 

It’s a good time for anyone to advertise on TV, as people are staying home to save money, and many still believe that TV is free. Think about it for a minute. People pay $50, $60 or more for cable or satellite. Then the ads pay for the inflated salaries of those stars, people with a small amount of talent, few job skills and a couple of years in the drama department of some community college. If the advertisers didn’t have to pay these folks several million per year, your box of laundry detergent would cost about 9 cents, and you could get a case of your favorite beer for a buck.

 

I guess we’re too used to being entertained. Think back. There was no TV in 925 AD, no movies, no nightclubs or ipods. How do you think those people entertained themselves?  Good question. I guess it was trying to figure out how to divide one potato in order to feed a family of ten. So, I guess that wasn’t the best example.

 

I guess times aren’t as bad as they seem. Perhaps the best bet is to pull out that credit card and charge a trip to Paris. You can always declare bankruptcy in time for Christmas.

 

 

The news that Obama has won the Nobel Peace Prize has gotten me thinking, and being self-centered, that thinking has gravitated toward myself.

 

I do like Obama. I voted for him, but I have to wonder if he were the best choice. We are, after all, still fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan, and the two parties in Congress are almost ready to come to blows.

 

Now, I could offer a wide field of alternative choices for this award, but it’s hard for me to speak to the motives of others. Besides, I’m sure my list would leave out many qualified candidates. No, the only proper thing to do is offer myself as a person eminently qualified for this award, along with the money involved.

 

Let me make my history known to one and all, so the world can judge my qualifications.

I was peaceful even at an early age. As a kid, when someone had a problem with me and said we’d meet after school to fight it out, I simply wouldn’t show up, opting instead to meet friends for a soda and some fries.

 

Then, along came the Viet Nam war. I quickly dashed out to enlist in a safe National Guard unit, where I spent my summers playing military games in the California desert and drinking copious amounts of beer.

 

Throughout my youth, whenever some international situation would get me angry, I would quickly make a date with some attractive young woman. I always subscribed to the idea, make love, not war.

 

You can check the record. I’ve never dashed off to Washington DC to sign any declaration of war. I resisted the urge when Iran held our hostages, and I didn’t get involved on either side when Israel and its neighbors had all those nasty little wars.

 

When we invaded Iraq and Afghanistan, I didn’t rush out to re enlist. I pulled out my old National Guard uniform, found it no longer fit and thought better of the whole idea.

 

I don’t even kill the animals I eat, leaving that unpleasant chore to other, more violent, people.

 

As much as I respect our president, I have to say, in all humility, that I’m by far the better choice for the Peace Prize.

Apparently, according to a news piece, police in major cities are stopping pedestrians, questioning them, perhaps even frisking them if they seem to be acting suspiciously. It seems that as this practice is on the rise, crime rates are falling.

 

Civil rights groups are naturally upset, particularly because Blacks and Hispanics are targeted more often. While about 90 percent of those stopped are soon left to go on their way, they are left shaken and indignant, afraid and angry. However, about 10 percent are found to be doing something illegal, like carrying concealed weapons, and are arrested.

 

This appears to be a classic case of that delicate balance we’ve tried to achieve in this country, the balance between civil rights and public safety. Clearly, no one wants innocent people stopped and searched on the streets. This makes us think of totalitarian oppression. Yet, no one can deny that crime on the streets has been and continues to be a serious problem. Added to usual street crime are the gangs, which seem to be growing larger, more numerous and more violent. Also, since Blacks and Hispanics comprise a proportionally larger percentage of criminals on the street, some degree of profiling is unfortunately taking place.

 

In an ideal world, people wouldn’t be stopped by the police unless they were committing or had committed a crime. Of course, in an ideal world, young men would not be gathering in gangs, carrying weapons and causing a public safety problem.

 

It all comes back to some bedrock assumptions about a civilized society. To the degree that people behave responsibly and civilly they are free to go about their lives and engage in any chosen activities. Our society accepts a wide latitude of behavior, and as we continue to evolve as a society, this latitude grows wider. Homosexually has been decriminalized, and I expect drug use will also be decriminalized. Behavior that once seem deviant enough to keep people out of jobs or neighborhoods is now seen as fairly acceptable.

 

Again, it is a question of balance. Law enforcement, faced with daily violent activity, see the streets as unsafe places, filled with real or potential criminals. Young men hanging out on the streets, to the degree that they are doing something suspicious, see the police as dangerous enemies. It’s another version of the old adage, if you are a hammer, you see everything as a nail. 

 

We tend to frame things in terms of society’s responses. The authorities are seen as either soft on crime or accused of police brutality. We tend to view the street criminals as being hampered by unemployment and lack of education. Naturally, we need to offer education and employment opportunities, but these need to be contingent on more responsible behavior. In order to de-escalate this growing tension between the two positions, each side needs to back down incrementally. Less street violence, less police pressure and more opportunities. Less police pressure and more opportunities, less street violence. We are a society. Everyone is responsible for its form and function.

 

Since there is a special Olympics for people with physical disabilities, shouldn’t  there be a singing version for the melodically challenged, the tonally impared, the pitch disabled?  

Seriously, now, people like me are generally asked to leave any group singing activity, often even asked to leave the premises or even the town. We are derided and laughed at.

 

Doesn’t that qualify as a disability? Perhaps a “special” American Idol could be held, and the person who comes the closest to actually carrying the tune would be the winner. It’s doubtful, however, if anyone would actually buy their album, but, like in most gratuitous events, it’s the thought that counts.