well, i don't see no moral

Yodel

2009-12-23T10:53:00.001-08:00

Here are a few greats to get you started.

Kerry Christensen

Franzl Lang, The Bavarian Yodelking

Obsession

2009-10-13T19:18:00.000-07:00

Recently, I’ve had this crazy idea that the only way to get a job is to apply for jobs. As a result of this misconception, I’ve been spending all kinds of time crafting a résumé and cover letters. I know, it’s crazy. Anyway, I don’t see myself being able to come down off of this new obsession for the next little while.

And for some reason, I’m focusing on finance companies. I’ve applied to Goldman Sachs, with Deloitte Consulting on deck, J. P. Morgan (responsible for advising in 38% of all mergers and acquisitions done last year, which is a significant share of the market) in the hole. And a slew of others still in the dugout. (That’s for all you Cub fans out there.)

PS I don’t know how I know figures like J. P. Morgan’s market share of M&As off the top of my head.

Shiva, God of War

2009-09-22T17:52:00.000-07:00

This past weekend was drill for me. On Sunday afternoon we decided to do combatives, the Army’s program for hand-to-hand fighting, based closely on Brazilian Jujutsu. In the middle of the class, I asked the sergeant teaching, “At the end can we have some time to go at it?”

“Oh, so you wanna roll? Hey, who wants to roll with Buck?”

A private who is three or four inches taller than me and a bit bigger said he would, but he was standing in a group of soldiers.

“Great!” I said. “Which one is it?”

At that point, a guy about an inch taller than me and weighing 200-ish pounds (a muscley 200 pounds), said, “Me, I’ll do it.”

So we got down on our knees (I didn’t want us to seriously injure each other in trying to throw the other down) and began. Because he is so much stronger than me, he got on top fairly quickly and stayed there. In wrestling this is the worst thing possible. It means you just lost. Not so if you’re trying to kill someone. While not ideal, I knew it was not bad. Instead of wasting energy trying to get him off of me, I reached my left hand up and grabbed his left collar as far back as I could. Then I got my right hand on his right collar. At this point, he had his forearm across my neck, putting all his weight into choking me between his arm and the ground. It was kind of working. But then he moved his chin up a little bit, which had been preventing me from really getting him. So I stuck my wrist under his chin next to his neck, locked my left arm out, and proceeded to try to pull my right hand back to me (with my arms in an X in front of his neck, that did two things: first, it tightened his collar on the sides and cut off blood flow to his brain; second, it put my forearm where the space for his windpipe used to be). He didn’t tap out (which is how you say, “Uncle,” while unable to breathe), so I kept tightening. Then his face changed and he really gritted his teeth.

“Not giving up?” I thought. “That’s fine. You’ll just have to pass out.” Then I realized that the change in facial expression meant he already had passed out. The bulging eyes that I took for determination were just bulging eyes, apparently. I let go, laid him out on the ground, he started breathing deeply, his exhalations flapping his completely relaxed lips like horses do, and then he woke up.

No brain damage was apparent. (He wasn’t exactly a high-performance model in the first place, but we didn’t notice him saying anything particularly unusual.) All’s well that ends well, right?

I Wish I Had a Button Like This

2009-09-14T08:28:00.001-07:00

Celebrate Atlas Shrugged Day, Part II

2009-08-26T16:43:00.000-07:00

(Photo to accompany the entry Jenny Beckman)

The Silver Spoon

2009-08-26T11:22:00.000-07:00

A few years ago I purchased The Silver Spoon, a fantastic Italian cookbook. I did so for a few reasons: first, it was attractive; second, it looked high-class; third, Dwell magazine recommended it; and fourth, I bought into the cultural dictum that if your life is feeling unfulfilling, you can identify a wonderful activity that will enrich the day-to-day, purchase the equipment associated with said activity, and do nothing else; the sheer act of ownership is enough to sweeten things.

As it turns out, the last few years have validated the dictum. I have not used this book for anything. True to form, however, since the purchase of this inspired work, my life has been on a steadily upward rise (admittedly, this has not been strictly monotonic—more like loosely monotonic). Since realizing the effect The Silver Spoon has had, I have decided to celebrate by actually using it.

For dinner the other night I made broiled chicken with a Russian garlic sauce and zucchini with a mint sauce. It was fantastic. The most spectacular part of the cooking process was learning that you can broil chicken at five hundred degrees without drying it out. It actually makes fantastic meat. And it takes ten minutes.

Jenny Beckman

2009-08-19T10:35:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, Zannah and I went on a Celebrate Atlas Shrugged Adventure. That included riding a train, eating at a diner, and talking about career things.

We went to the Blue Plate Diner in Salt Lake for dinner. Zannah ordered a salad that was filled with boring vegetables (the sort you will find in a cafeteria salad). Also, some bacon and cheese. She was not impressed. I ordered the fish ‘n chips. The chips weren’t spectacular, but they tasted like potatoes that had been deep fried. The fish, however, was excellent. It was definitely a step above Skipper’s, as the Blue Plate’s were filets instead of pre-formed patties. The tartar sauce took a bit of getting used to. It was freshly made, and the textured showed that: the vegetables that go into the sauce were firm little chunks, which combined with the high percentage of vegetables in the sauce to give it a very stiff, crunchy texture. Once I got over the surprise of it not being like Skipper’s tartar sauce (or any tartar sauce I’ve had at sit-down restaurants), I decided I quite liked it. In addition to the fish ‘n chips, there were steamed vegetables (carrots, broccoli, yellow squash, and green squash) in a butter sauce.

After dinner we decided to go see 500 Days of Summer, which is the best movie I’ve seen in a long time. I will be buying it. At the beginning there is a disclaimer:

Author’s Note: The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Especially you Jenny Beckman.

Bitch.

The movie is incredibly funny. It lives up to its Indie credentials. Zannah and I were the annoying couple who laughed loudly at everything. After a bit, the rest of the audience loosened up and realized they were supposed to be laughing at a lot of the heartbreaking stuff.

Stargazing

2009-08-19T10:11:00.000-07:00

If you all want to go stargazing, there is an amazing piece of information out there for you. Not only can you check the cycle of the moon to see when the new moon will be or when moonrise and moonset is, but you can find out the ending evening twilight time. (When evening twilight ends that means it’s truly night.) Here is the breakdown:

Civil Twilight—the sun is between exactly lined up on the horizon and six degrees below the horizon. You can still see well enough to do things, but a few of the brightest stars can be seen.

Nautical Twilight—the sun is between six and twelve degrees below the horizon. You can see more stars. It is a really good time to attack your enemies because their eyes aren’t fully adjusted to the change in light yet. Also a good time to be awake and on your guard (called ‘stand-to’) in case they attack you. (If you couldn’t tell, Army is the one who tipped me off to this whole thing).

Astronomical Twilight—the sun is between twelve and eighteen degrees below the horizon. It still isn’t really night yet (that is the next step). But the ending time of astronomical twilight is what you’re looking for.

Thursday is the new moon (which shouldn’t matter too much, because the moon has been setting in the early evening anyway). Go to this website to get your own month-long chart calculated based on your location.

Katie Billings

2009-08-19T09:59:00.000-07:00

While I was at Fort Bragg in North Carolina, I visited a friend of mine who lives there. I arrived around ten on Friday night and found Katie and her mother, Didi, silking corn that had already been shucked. So we all started working on it. Then Deborah, Didi’s sister, came over and it started to get really crazy. We stayed up until close to two getting it all done.

On Saturday, Katie and I went up to her college town and she gave me a bit of a tour. One of the best parts was seeing all of the paintings she has done. And also listening to good music and talking as we drove.

the truth is that

2009-08-18T09:32:00.000-07:00

hindsight is not twenty-twenty

The Best

2009-07-31T11:48:00.001-07:00

As squad leader for the last few days, I was tasked with certain assignments for cleaning the barracks before we left to go home. It was one of the most exciting experiences of my life. Third and fourth squads were tasked to clean the latrine. The third squad leader was gone, so there I was, standing in the middle of the latrine, looking around to identify the next task. As people finished their particular task, they would ask me what to do next, and I would just say it. Then it was done. As problems arose, I told them how to fix it, then sent them out to do so.
Though a simple task, the exhilaration of controlling that much labor is unmatched. As a single individual, I had the strength, intelligence, and capacity of twenty-two men.

Cowboy Up

2009-07-30T20:07:00.001-07:00

Smith and I had a sneaking suspicion that our evaluator was communicating with the opposition forces. Our primary piece of evidence was that he had a radio and kept talking to someone named 'OPFOR'. We decided that on our next lane one of us would be in charge, and we would go totally cowboy. Smith got control of the squad, and chose me to be the recorder, the guy who does the route planning and so forth.

Smith decided that he wanted to give the OPFOR misinformation, so he had me prep two routes to the objective. The first, we would radio up to Sergeant Ellis to make sure we had the right distance and direction to run head on into the OPFOR, making sure they knew we were taking the direct route. The second lead us around behind them so we could shoot them in the back. Smith briefed the squad that we would start out going kind of straight but sliding right as we went, stop at various points along the way, conduct a reconnaissance, the use of fire and maneuver, and other military things. Based on the fact that Smith briefed this and that Sergeant Ellis walked this lane every day and knew the route through the woods, it struck me as odd that when we started out going to the left-ish Sergeant Ellis apparently didn’t notice. Nor did he say anything about the fact that we never stopped, we just kept on trucking.

As we got closer, the OPFOR began to recon by fire (two notes here: first, that means they just shoot their guns and see if we give away our location by shooting back; second, they knew to recon by fire because we sounded like a herd of cattle trying to break through all of the brush and branches). At that point, Smith lead us across a road (apparently the OPFOR guys saw us crossing the road). We then circled around behind them, continuing to sound like a herd of cattle breaking brush. Though it seems impossible to believe, what with all the noise and the fact that the OPFOR saw us crossing the road, the OPFOR continued to rely on the intel they had received. That is, they were still looking in the direction Sergeant Ellis told them we would come when we walked up behind them. Smith looked at the situation, chucked the last one hundred twenty years of combat wisdom out the window, and called, “FULL FRONTAL ASSAULT!” We then all stood up and charged civil war style onto the objective shooting the thing up like Billy the Kid and the Regulators.

It was possibly one of the worst things I’ve ever seen. No one in the squad knew what was happening except Smith and I. And we didn’t even know. Smith was just making it up as he went along. We relied on Civil War tactics (remember how hundreds of thousands died?). It violated everything we’ve been taught to do as leaders, and is the sort of thing that gets people killed in real life.

Smith was given a rating of ‘Excellent’. Sergeant Ellis informed him that that was the kind of leadership we needed to see.

fire guard

2009-07-30T19:42:00.000-07:00

Adam Lim (the West Pointer) was sleeping peacefully, when awakened by someone shaking his shoulders violently saying, “Da bewdings on fiyah!! Da bewdings on fiyah!!” It took him a second to realize that it was the 4’11” Chinese female, Tat. “Do you ha’ da next fiyah gahd shift?”
“Uh, no Tat, I don’t. Check the list on the wall.”
“Okay,” she said, and then, patting his cheek, “You go back sleep Lim.” Then her little figure scampered off into the darkness.

Welcome to My City

2009-07-30T10:54:00.000-07:00

We lived in the barracks for a short time, then moved out to some tactical training bases (TTBs), which consist of a bunch of semi-permanent tents. As we moved around, we always slept in the same positions within the tent, so it felt like we were always at home.
I slept on the end of the tent that was more lively late at night (apparently the other guys thought joking around at midnight ought to cease since we knew we had to be up by four). So we’re all laughing and joking, and then things get quiet and we become aware that someone on the other end is snoring pretty loud.

“Who is that?” I asked.
A disembodied voice responded, “It’s Watkins, but I can’t get him to quit. He won’t wake up.”
“Well kick him until he does wake up.”

About thirty seconds more snoring went by, then it stopped.
“Okay, I finally got it,” the disembodied voice came back.
I lay back to go to sleep, but after a few more seconds of silence in the tent, something occurred to me.
“Hey, what did you do to get him to stop?”
“Oh, I just covered his face.”
“We’ll sleep good tonight, but we’ll wake up and Watkins’ll be dead. Awesome.” Everyone on our end of the tent started laughing and joking again, and it was a while before we got to sleep.

In connection with TTBs, I wrote this down as it happened.

15 July
My squad fell in with another today on the way back to the FOB (TTB West). Their conversation went something like this:

One: Welcome to my city.
Unison: TTB West!
One: Please check all weapons at the door. They will be available for pick up on exiting my city.
Unison: TTB West!
Two: Please do not use the sinks or piss in the showers.
Three: No shaving in the sinks—that’d give you warm water.
Four: You can’t shave in the sinks? Since when?
Two: Read the sign on the door. It says so right on there. And you can’t piss in the showers.
Officer walks up
Officer: Any ya’ll know a Patrick O’Brien?
Three: I think he’s seventh regiment. They go home today.
One: Leaving my city.
Unison: TTB West!
Two: As always, we hope you enjoyed your stay in my city.
Unison: TTB West!
Sergeant: MINUTEMEN!!!
Unison: SIXTY SECONDS!!!
Two: So what platoon are ya’ll?
Me: Second.
Two: Second? Oooh. So ya’ll’re the singers.
Smith: You gotta do something to keep yourself entertained.
Four: We got charm in third squad.
Third: We make jokes in third squad, but we ain’t no singers.
Me: We sang a good one on the way out here.

We then gave a stunning rendition of “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling,” complete with back up singers, snapping, and parts for the main singers, all greeted by thunderous applause.

I love Army.

The Ugly Girl

2009-07-29T15:07:00.001-07:00

Sergeant Babyak was the NCO evaluator for our patrolling lanes (the missions were four hours long, with two squads of twelve forming one patrol). Though I was not impressed with him as an individual, he was monstrously large. Probably 6’5”, 230 lbs. And fit. Anyway, he did say a lot of funny things. At one point someone planned an ambush, but the ambush site was out in the middle of an open field. We just lay down in the grass and kept our heads low. We were totally invisible (which is rare among cadets performing an ambush on their own). During the after action review, Sergeant Babyak asked, “Have ya’ll ever heard of an L-shaped ambush? It should look like an L. Your lines were all skewed. But that’s all right, it had a strange kinda beauty. It was kinda like an ugly girl. You know she’s ugly, but somehow there’s something that just catches your eye.”

Sergeant Babyak took some kind of strange liking to me after he learned that I’m Mormon.

“ ‘Ey, ‘ey. Where’s Buck? Where you at Buck? Here, have some cookies.”

“ ‘Ey, ‘ey. You want some jerky, Buck? Here ya go.”

“I’m not gonna tell any of ya how far my little GPS says we’ve gone. Except Buck. Buck can ask me any time he wants.”

I don’t know. Inexplicable.

OPERATION: CONFUSION

2009-07-28T08:30:00.002-07:00

A few cadets from the United States Military Academy (USMA, pronounced you’smay) at West Point attend LDAC every year. Every where they go the cadre calls them out and makes them do The Rocket, which is a little cheer done at West Point football games.
Whistle—BOOM!
USMA rah-rah!
USMA rah-rah!
A-army RAH!
TEAM TEAM TEAM ‘EHHHHHHHHH!

It is pretty lame, but whatever. The cadre love trying to embarrass the West Pointers by making them do this and the little dance that goes along with it. However, our friendship with our very own West Pointer, Adam Lim, spawned OPERATION: CONFUSION.

SGT: Where’s my West Pointer?
Lim: stands up I’m from West Point.
Smith: stands up I’m from West Point.
Berry: stands up No, I’m from West Point.
White: stands up I am from West Point.
Half of the Platoon: stands up I am from West Point.

It really was a touching scene.

Note: They still found Adam and made him do The Rocket.

Summer Fun

2009-07-28T08:30:00.001-07:00

I just got back from ROTC’s Leadership Development and Assessment Camp (LDAC, pronounced el’dak). There were some personality conflicts, seeing as how we were all just thrown together into a platoon, but this platoon was hands down my favorite since joining Army. We had a lot of fun. I have a list of things to blog about, and will be posting numerous short little episodes to illustrate the fun and games.

Grades

2009-06-27T11:13:00.000-07:00

Best I’ve ever had for a semester. 3.93.

I Love Remix

2009-06-19T07:52:00.001-07:00

I recently realized that ‘music’ as an art form is not the only legitimate development. What if the first person to write a song wrote the song and everyone else just sang that same song, but they changed the music or the rhythm or the order of the words because it was the first music and they didn’t know they could write new songs? Then there wouldn’t be music. People wouldn’t say “I love music.” They’d say, “I love cover.” And people who are musicians now would be coverers. After the advent of modern technology and turntables a new art form would develop called remix, and some people would like remix and others would like cover, just like some people like poetry and some like sculpture. And we would still sing the same song as the first person who ever wrote music.

I’ve been listening to Just Dance (Remixes, Pt. 2) a lot lately. And am surprised how much I can feel like the same song remixed is like different music. And not all that boring.

2009-06-13T13:40:00.000-07:00

In Drag

2009-05-30T21:08:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I went to the drag races with Andrew, Janelle, and William. It was a TON of fun. There were drag races on one side and kids learning how to drift on the oval track on the other side. Also, bear in mind as you watch the videos that cars are started at different times so that if both perform their best they cross the line at the same time (it looks like they are cheating, but the staggered start is on purpose).

Also, I just barely found out I can shoot videos with my camera. I’ve told people numerous times that I can’t and that I don’t care. Wrong on both counts (I was pretty excited).

A Confession…

2009-05-30T20:49:00.000-07:00

Whenever I write down a word that I am not quite sure how to spell, I am at first mildly surprised that a squiggly red line doesn’t appear underneath it, followed closely by a small pride. Then I realize that I am writing, not typing.

Sometimes boys see each other naked.

2009-04-01T06:34:00.000-07:00

A few months back my ROTC buddy, Vern, and I discovered we both knew this girl named Amanda. A pretty girl—blond hair, blue eyes, and fair skin. (Um, I guess I should also say that she has other good qualities besides being attractive. Amanda is intelligent, devout, and very pure.) She and I went out for a little while. Vern works with her.

This morning Vern confessed to me that he had asked her about it.

Vern: So you guys went out on some dates? What happened?

Amanda: I don’t know, it just didn’t go anywhere. He’s a nice guy, but….

Vern: Well, I just saw him in the locker room shower. You really might want to reconsider.

Amanda: Turns bright red.

from the gmail chat with cassi elton

2009-03-05T20:02:00.000-08:00

я: I love some people.

Cassi: what does that even mean?

Отправлено в 20:56, четверг

я: I just love them.

I should make a list of them.

But I love lots of people.

Cassi пишет …

Israel

2009-02-12T08:44:00.000-08:00

Recently I have taken to listening to a communist podcast. Why on earth would I do that? It was
a) free
b) a novelty
c) a different point of view from which to see the world
d) all of the above

The answer is d. Seeing Red Radio has focused a lot of their coverage on "our Palestinian brothers" and their struggle against the capitalist behemoth, Israelimerica. Okay, so I made up that last word, but it is a great way to describe what the communists are speaking of. I understand that people are upset with the whole Israeli-Palestinian conflict. It shouldn't be that difficult to work out not blowing each other up. I, personally, have never had difficulty trying to work out an understanding that would prevent me from killing other people. Often, I have thought, "Okay, so divide it into two stinking states."

I've been listening to Matisyahu's "Jerusalem." So here is my new question, and it's a genuine question: if the whole world is already Arab, why should an Arab state be made right in the middle of Israel? Sure, the Israelis stole the land. We stole land from Mexico after they wouldn't sell it to us. (The next time we offered to buy land, Mexico sold it.)

What do you think?

Lyrics

2009-02-11T20:02:00.000-08:00

She says, “Wake up

It’s no use pretending.”

I’ll keep stealing,

Breathing her.

There are twenty-four hours in a day,

I wish you could be in at least one of them.

What do it mean when you dream that you fallin'
What do it mean when you dream that you ballin'
What do it mean when you never dream at all then
And you don't really know cause you can't recall them

I climbed up a mountain and looked off the edge

At all of the lives that I never have led.

There’s one where I stayed with you across the sea.

I wonder, do you still think of me?

I carry your image always in my head,

Folded and yellowed and torn at the edge,

And I’ve looked upon it for so many years,

Slowly, I’m losing your face.

Two Fat Guys

2009-02-04T18:33:00.000-08:00

While on the trip to Kentucky I saw two fat guys.

The first I saw in the airport on the way. He was a Polynesian man in his fifties. I was sitting in one of the really uncomfortable chairs things when I watched him approach the information desk located by our gate. It was unmanned. He walked right up to the computer, stood his carry-on upright, and began typing. Then I noticed the Polynesian woman of the same age standing in front of the little desk looking from side to side.

Incredulously, I leaned over to the woman sitting next to me and pointed out what was happening. After discussing it, we decided that he was not very likely an employee that was simply off duty.

The second I saw in Wendy's, and I instantly disliked him. The fact that he was fat, slovenly, and unkempt was bad enough. Then he answered his phone and began speaking louder than I thought anyone ever would unless they were angry. (He was not, incidentally; he was merely speaking at an incredible volume.) Then he announced to his friend that he was at Wendy's getting a salad. "You know," I thought to myself, "though clearly an undesirable, you aren't half bad, man."

PS I never did find out who the Polynesian man bumped off of the flight so that he and his wife could go from standby to actually having a seat.

the pennyroyal

2009-01-02T12:44:00.000-08:00

(To enlarge for reading, click on the photos)

2008-12-27T12:04:00.000-08:00

So I'm more excited than I can even say to you. First, I threw away my old planner and am switching solely to the new. It is thin, sexy, and Moleskine. If I were going to make out with a planner, this would be the one.

Second, I have a billion friends and I'm happy about it.

Third, I just came up with a new phrase that I am really pleased with. Check out the new box that has cool phrases.

Reading, Thinking, Doing

2008-12-13T12:15:00.000-08:00

Last night I sat in a velvety, nineteenth-century inspired armchair (which was quite old in its own right) and read from Walden before I went to bed. After watching Fahrenheit 451, I sat in Andrew and Janelle’s guest bedroom. The windows rattled and whistled as a storm began. I can’t weave for you the thoughts I had, but I can list some of the threads.

I love the rain.

I love overcast skies.

I love Portland.

I love genuine experience.

I love simplicity.

I love floors that creak.

I love reading.

I love thinking.

I love doing.

2008-12-03T14:09:00.000-08:00

Earlier this semester in my English class we read In Our Time, a novel by Ernest Hemingway. It is a very challenging piece of work because there is this long debate over whether it is a novel or a collection of short stories (which, by the way, makes a world of difference). As we were discussing some of the material, a woman sitting across the room and in front of me began to comment. I looked in her direction and immediately got upset, wanting to say, “Hey! You can’t comment on this book. What you have to say doesn’t matter because your pages are yellow instead of white—that’s a completely different book.”

I didn’t say it.

Last night I went to the documentary Helvetica. It is, indeed, about the font. It is also about the space that surrounds the font. It is about the meaning of a font, and how it changes what is written, and how the empty page around the font also changes what is written.

Helvetica is literally everywhere. Virtually everything commercial is written in it. Opposition from some segments of the graphic design community is fierce, while support is equally fierce. And how. Graphic artists, as stated in the film, are much like doctors: out to cure the world from the malady of ugliness.

Prior to last night I was vaguely aware that the font existed, but I did not know about the controversy. Or where I stood on it. In seeing huge portions of my life that have been defined by Helvetica, I realized that I have a certain affinity for it. I support the almost bland quality—the absolute objectivity, actually—that it embodies. It may be an artificial thing created about fifty years ago, but to me it is integrally linked to the effort to create a system of symbols that are as nearly the sounds they represent as possible.

Note: This is not written in Helvetica. I couldn't get it to work. Ironic, huh?

Pearls

2008-11-26T20:46:00.000-08:00

Note: Please read the comments and leave your own. This is a very important topic to think about, and I hope you will also read what others think.

We are taught not to cast our pearls before swine. I wonder if we have taken that too far. Are our children swine? Brothers? Sisters? Spouse? I have rarely shared my most personal spiritual experiences, which I feel is right, but perhaps I’ve been too strict in my definition of ‘swine.’

Here is my point: in a restoration church, why did I doubt it when people I taught as a missionary responded to the Joseph Smith story by saying that they, too, had seen Jesus? Why am I uncomfortable with people having experiences similar to Book of Mormon experiences (passing out, speaking in tongues, and so forth)?

I don’t really know what to make of that. I don’t really understand the gifts of the spirit. I cannot tell you which are of God and which are not (that is for those in priesthood positions like bishop to declare according to the Doctrine and Covenants). I do, however, think that I feel at a deep level like a lot of these gifts have been done away, and that things are not so in our day.

I wonder if classifying every single person that is not me as swine is part of the problem. By not talking about the good things that happen do we limit the faith-building experiences that our own family and those dear to us could have? I think so. I know that spiritual experiences my mother has had and shared with me seem to be special, rare, but to be expected in the course of life.

Emergency Economic Relief

2008-09-30T08:07:00.000-07:00

"[...] Lawmakers on both sides pointed to an outpouring of opposition from deeply hostile constituents just five weeks before every seat in the House was up for election as a fundamental reason that the measure was defeated." --The New York Times, Tuesday, 30 September 2008, Leaders Rebuffed in 228-205 Vote--Broad Public Anger Is Cited, written by Carl Hulse and David M. Herszenhorn.

I thought about e-mailing my representative to get them to pass the plan. There are certain parts I'm not comfortable with, but a mediocre plan implemented in a timely manner is better than a perfect plan never implemented.

I feel guilty that I didn't write. Other people did, and I'll bet most of them know less than I do about the issue. They only heard about it on the television news, whereas I actually read about it. But they still determine policy because they wrote their letters.

Here are the voting results of the bill (H.R. 3997) so you can see how your representative voted.

2008-08-11T09:59:00.000-07:00

Found by Eli on the street in Berkley.

www.foundmagazine.com

The Communist

2008-07-28T14:15:00.000-07:00

Scene opens with Dave is seated at the malt shop with a red-headed woman, Sam. Enter the Roommate of [girl] ([girl] and Dave having been out several times) with Boy. Roommate and Boy join them at the table.

Boy: So, [leans forward earnestly] I have to ask: is it true? What you told [girl]?

Roommate looks to Dave with interest. Sam appears puzzled. Dave begins scanning his memories wondering what he told [girl], certain that it was probably TMI and very embarrassing.

Dave: Uh, what I told her about what?
Roommate: Looks nervously at Sam. You know. About your--tattoo.

A few years back I met [girl]. We started going out on dates. At some point I mentioned that I have a large tattoo on my upper back of a sickle and hammer (yellow, with a small red border to make it stand out more). Such a patently false statement that negating it was completely unnecessary. Sam, Boy, Roommate and I all laughed at how silly the whole thing was, and how silly [girl] had been.

I just ran into Roommate again. In our conversation she informed me that at the time [girl] had been saying, "Yeah, I'm dating this guy; he's a communist."

2008-07-25T10:52:00.000-07:00

I am sad that no one else sees that I left the last post in the standard font, instead of shifting to my preferred sans serif, because the way the tails of the 9, 4, and 5 hang below the line significantly alter what the post means.

Thoughts Dedicated to a Wonderful Young Woman with Whom I Once Went Out Before She Met and Married One of the Most Wonderful Young Men Around.

2008-07-25T10:37:00.000-07:00

[Editor’s Note: Contains Plot Spoilers]

Last night I went to watch The Dark Knight with two people I love. Rachel writes a note to Bruce saying that she will be marrying Harvey Dent, because she cannot wait until Bruce no longer needs Batman, because that day may never come. The note is given to Alfred, who is allowed to read it, with the direction to give it to Bruce when the time is right. After Rachel’s death Alfred places the note on Bruce’s breakfast tray. Before Alfred leaves Bruce says, “She would have waited for me.” As Alfred walks away he takes the note with him.

The 1966 Fahrenheit 451, directed by François Truffaut, makes significant changes from Ray Bradbury’s novel. In the novel, Montag becomes Ecclesiastes. In Truffaut’s work he becomes David Copperfield. Before this happens, when he is first experimenting with reading, Montag gets up in the middle of the night and begins going over this novel with trouble, sounding out the words. “Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show.”

The speaker of The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock says

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous.

“She would have waited for me.”

It is nice to not know how often I am not the hero of my own life.

Army and The Classical Age

2008-07-21T11:47:00.000-07:00

This past weekend I got to go play Army. It was a lot of fun because I got put on the Group Commander's staff along with a bunch of people who way-the-heck out-rank me. Primarily, I did minor administrative functions like type stuff up, but it was cool to hear the strategic discussions and, every once in a while, to say something that helped shape the strategy. They had a retired Army Colonel there training us on how to function as a staff, and how to support the commander. It was great fun, and it confirmed that being an officer in Army is the best career choice I could make.

From time to time a friend will say something like, “That is classic Dave Buck,” with a smile on their face. It is usually in reference to a comment like, “I like armpits, but I wouldn’t lick one.” (I don’t understand why that seems an odd statement to people; I mean, armpits really help with flexibility, but would you lick an armpit? Exactly my point.) It has been nice to see them enjoy my friendship and personality. More recently, upon hearing that, I thought, “Classic rock is from a bygone era that is no longer. Classic cars, also. Classical Greece and Rome, though wonderful, are also past.”

It has become apparent, then, that when my friends refer to “classic Dave Buck” actions and statements, they are enjoying a flashback to a previous time. Every once in a while, I will say and do the things that caused them to be friends with me way back when. I wonder, how much is their hanging out with me for my current personality, and how much are they really just waiting to see if I will revert back to the person they used to like? Maybe I will one day regain the former glory of my highest personalitical achievements.

I love the opposite sex at LEAST as much as the next guy, but INCESSANT physical contact?

2008-07-12T15:10:00.000-07:00

Recently a friend sent me an e-mail, reminding me of a note I sent her several years back. Here it is, reproduced in a new, digital format.

by Dave Buck
Observation: Some people act like they can't function without holding the hand of another, someone of the opposite sex.

Men and women have different pH levels.

Hearts beat powered by what has been called 'wet' electricity.

Certain chemical reactions create electricity.

Hypothesis: Some people have weaker batteries that will run out of electricity causing heart problems. They hold hands with someone of the opposite sex because

1- holding hands induces hand-sweating
2- different pH levels cause a chemical reaction, generating electricity

Conclusion: In this way they avoid heart problems.

Science at its finest.