I Love To Write

Kids hate to write. A writing assignment in school is torture. A two-page paper will take forever, if and when it is started. “What will I write about?” “What will I say?” They lack ideas, and their reluctance to set anything down, compounds the problem. If they don't write they don't learn to write. So their thoughts remain unrefined, even if they have some sensible ideas. Lack of confidence in themselves makes silence or superficiality preferable to the risk the criticism by others who might disagree with them. A blank piece of paper, like silence, is golden.

And, should they choose to write, or when they must, nowadays they have an accomplice. With computers there is a strong temptation to enlarge the font or increase the space between lines. That and plagiarism make it easier to complete the assignment when they get up the will to do so. Or if they have an idea that they want to communicate, they do it over social media with a series of unconnected abbreviations, initials, and sentence fragments. Or perhaps an inane video.

I suspect that when I was young I had the same mindset, though I lacked the electronic devices now available to protect me from thinking. In fact I had teachers who wouldn't accept their students' anxiety and hesitancy. They demanded content. Clearly expressed. And with their support their students learned to write full – and grammatically correct – sentences. They learned to express their ideas in a way that others would understand, even if they disagreed. (I don't always see that now, even in the media. Perhaps clarity, conciseness, and correct grammar are no longer in vogue.)

Our teachers had high expectations of us. They wouldn't accept something from us if the felt we could do better. And by a combination of compliments and criticism they convinced us that we could do better. I recall a teacher who praised something I wrote while telling me how it might be improved. His advice has remained with me since. Teachers like that still exist, but with tenure and parental and administrative pressure, more and more are “going with the flow.” Sad.

I didn't go into writing as a profession, but the lessons I learned stayed with me. Words were my passion, and I didn't need to express them to others. They were mine. I'd write what came to mind, and what I didn't throw out wound up in a drawer for development at some undefined future time when I had the opportunity – or not at all. And the drawers filled. No one saw it but I didn't care.

As the years passed things changed. I did some writing – medical papers (not all lucid but most were), letters to the editor (New York Times, Wall Street Journal, Jerusalem Post, and many others), bad poetry for the New England Journal of Medicine, and a variety of other written works – in my spare time. I even edited a community newspaper and had an editing position in a state medical journal. But all of these efforts were those of a dilettante who could fit fun into his schedule. Or when the efforts would advance his standing.

It's different now. I'm retired. Now I can write what I want, and I have the time to do so. And writing, through the years, has helped me to develop the ability to say what I mean, whether succinctly or by the use of prolixity. There's a place for both. I don't think it's the absence of humility that tells me that I write fairly well. I'll never be a great novelist or writer of non-fiction, but I've started emptying the drawers and developing some of the ideas I had in my past life. Some of them I've incorporated into this blog – in fact one of the reasons I write it is to expand on some of the ideas I had before, as well as some of the features of modern life that I consider worthy of comment. Choosing to write about them makes me work out those ideas more thoroughly than I would otherwise. As matter of fact, there are times when I decide to write about something simply because I want to work it out in my mind, and writing about it will force me to clarify it for myself. And if no one reads it, or if readers don't take my views seriously that's all right. I'll understand the issue better. This is one case when it is all about me.

I write, then, for a variety of reasons including the ideas (if not the facts) that I'm reasonably good at it and it makes me think. Writing and thought go together in my view.

And I write because it's fun. I can delineate my views without interruption and without having to hear the responses of others who might think differently from me. If I encounter their opinions I can consider them and, perhaps revise my own perspective. But if I do so it will be without pressure and without contention. I'm just as happy if I don't have to confront those with whom I disagree. My teachers have helped me learn how to express my thoughts and I'm grateful to them. I have so much that I want to say, even if others disagree or are not interested.

I love to think and I love to write. They go together.

Hoffer 3

More of the wisdom of Eric Hoffer. I'm putting some of his aphorisms on the internet because I suspect that most people are as unaware of them as they are of him. The quotations, themselves, are in the order that I found them. They have no meaning as a unified whole, but they're thought-provoking. At least I hope you'll find them so as I do.

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Fear comes from uncertainty. When we are absolutely certain, whether of our worth or worthlessness, we are almost impervious to fear. Thus a feeling of utter unworthiness can be a source of courage.

Absolute power is partial to simplicity. It wants simple problems, simple solutions, simple definitions. It sees in complication a product of weakness – the torturous path compromise must follow. There is thus a certain similarity between the pattern of extremism and that of absolute power.

Our sense of power is more vivid when we break a man's spirit than when we win his heart. For we can win a man's heart one day and lose it the next. But when we break a proud spirit we achieve something that is final and absolute.

When the weak want to give an impression of strength they hint meaningfully at their capacity for evil. It is by its promise of a sense of power that evil often attracts the weak.

Though the reformer is seen as a champion of change, he actually looks down on anything that can be changed. Only that which is corrupt and inferior must be subjected to the treatment of change. The reformer prides himself on the possession of an eternal unchangeable truth. It is his hostility toward things as they are which goads him to change them; he is as it were inflicting on them an indignity. Hence his passion for change is not infrequently a destructive passion.

There is always a chance that he who sets himself as his brother's keeper will end up by being his jailkeeper.

There is perhaps in all misfits a powerful craving to turn the whole of humanity into misfits. Hence partly their passionate advocacy of a drastic new social order. For we are all misfits when we have to adjust ourselves to the wholly new.

The real “haves” are they who can acquire freedom, self-confidence and even riches without depriving others of them. They acquire all of these by developing and applying their potentialities. On the other hand, the real “have nots” are they who cannot have aught except by depriving others of it. They can only feel free by diminishing the freedom of others, self-confident by spreading fear and dependence among others, and rich by making others poor.

The pleasure we derive from doing favors is partly the feeling it gives us that we are not altogether worthless. It is a pleasant surprise to ourselves.

To find the cause of our ills in something outside ourselves, something specific that can be spotted and eliminated, is a diagnosis that cannot fail to appeal. To say that the cause of our troubles is not in us but in the Jews, and pass immediately to the extermination of the Jews, is likely to find a wide acceptance.

Our impulse to persuade others is strongest when we have to persuade ourselves. The never wholly successful task of persuading ourselves of our worth manifests itself in a ceaseless effort to persuade others of it.

Those who would sacrifice a generation to realize an ideal are the enemies of mankind.

The only index by which to judge a government or a way of life is by the quality of the people it acts upon. No matter how noble the objectives of a government, if it blurs decency and kindness, cheapens human life, and breeds ill will and suspicion – it is an evil government.

There are people who seem continually engaged in an effort of self-proselytizing. To whomever they may talk or write it is to themselves they are talking or writing. They are continually engaged in talking or writing themselves into a conviction, an enthusiasm or an illusion.

Various Revelations/Ideas V

Boy am I arrogant. I viewed my ideas and the various thoughts I have as “revelations.” They're not, of course. Merely my uncertainties. That's the reason for the placement of “Ideas” along with “Revelations.” Next time around I'll drop the latter altogether but I thought I'd keep it for this transition piece – also, as usual, a hodge-podge of thoughts that I'm too lazy to convert into full essays.

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On the back page of the first section of yesterday's New York Times is an ad for the “Nest Learning Thermostat.” it reads: “Global warming is a lot of hot air.” That's true, but a little misleading. From the point of view of denotation it's absolutely correct, but “hot air” has a connotation – “false bluster” – that strikes me as totally inappropriate to the message of the ad which is

Today and every day, our mission at Nest is to create a home that takes care of the people inside it. And the world around it.

Sounds noble, but the debate is political as well as scientific, and mixing metaphors, or whatever Nest is doing, doesn't help. But it may sell thermostats. And, after all, that's the reason they invested in a full-page advertisement.

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Also in yesterday's Times was a 35 column-inch (actually it was much larger when you add in the headlines and pictures) on the race for mayor of Omaha, Nebraska – a city of great importance to New Yorkers. Featured in the story were Heath Mello, the Democratic candidate, and Bernie Sanders who, though not a Democrat, involves himself greatly in Democratic politics and prides himself on his populist approach to party members. The article focused of abortion and the economy, two subjects of interest to Nebraska voters.

Interestingly, the article, which began on the front page of the Times (above the fold) neglected to mention the name of his opponent, Jean Stothert, Omaha's mayor, and the winner of the first round of the election. I suspect that in an article as long and as prominently placed as this one the editors could have found room to include this information for their readers.

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A final thought relates to Jewish law. A group large enough to pray together is called a minyan. It consists of ten male Jews above the age of thirteen. How this definition came about is not the point of my mental maunderings and I won't pursue it.

Imagine, though, a situation in which the rabbi walked into a synagogue and saw a woman sitting among the men. Her outfit was tznius (modest) and her sheitel (wig) lovely. All appeared to be in accordance with Jewish law. But she was sitting in the men's section and counting her and the rabbi there were ten. When questioned “she” insisted that she was a man by birth but identified more with women than men, and dressed accordingly. No surgery had been performed and “her” sex could be confirmed. No one else came.

Because of the requests to say Kaddish (a prayer in remembrance of the dead) a decision has to be made as to whether there is a minyan present. At most non-orthodox synagogues women are counted, if there is a requirement for a minyan at all. But not here and the question exists. Should the “woman” be counted? She is certainly a man and eligible according to law, but her dress suggests a rejection of her status. And the question of maris ayin ("appearance to the eye") has to be considered as well.

I suspect this idle thought has already been considered by those in the know but I'm not one or them. So, in the meanwhile, I can imagine.

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A few more IDEAS next time.

April 23, 2017

Mixed Grill XXX

Mixed Grill XXX

No quotations today. There are too many notes in my pocket containing entries for this collection and if I add quotations – as much as I might like to – my pocket will empty more slowly.

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Telemachus – Straight-Arrow son of Odysseus. Together they founded the Greek Mafia, knocking off their opponents.

High tea – Cannabis infusion. Decaffeinated of course

Don't ask – Not to worry. I couldn't care less.

Meet me in St. Louis, Louie – I have a contract for you. It'll be quite a hit.

Don't go near the wafer – Islamic threat against apostasy

Stop chief – Instructions to Custer

Fast fools – Folks who eat that crap

Are we there Yeti? – You know the way to my favorite shoe store, which has 19½ triple F

Don't Make Waves – Navy training film of the 1940s.

Rock of Gibraltar – Popular Mediterranean dance

I wouldn't dream of – But in waking hours it's OK

Different strokes for different folks – But you'd better not be different if you're on the Oxford crew

Out and outlier – Politician

Top of the morning – Hair of the dog

Non sequitur – Two bits and a hard boiled egg

Psychiatrist – Jung at heart brain

Neverland – According to George Carlin that means even at the nominal destination, but perhaps over the rainbow or in a rabbit hole there's a place

amtrack.com/deals – Actually recently it's been amtrack.com/ordeals

Rock and roil – Parents and children often differ in their musical tastes

Give me liberty and give me debt – The DOD has a high budget

Make way for ducklings – Especially if there's orange sauce

Martin Luther King, Jr. – No good deed goes unpunished

Theory of relativity – It's not a theory when you win the lottery

Heir tight – With this will there's no way

What is the meaning of life? – You'll get a better answer from the OED rather then a philosophy book

Take your best shot – And make it a single-malt scotch

Wouldn't you really like to be a shlepper? – New motto for Yankel's Moving Company's hiring campaign

Two wrongs don't make a right – Especially if one's a protest over Constitutional stands

Two sense plane – The sound of the wind and the sight of prairie dogs

Viagra –Better things for better loving through chemistry

A diamond is forever – Or for baseball

By the light of the silvery mohn – It's Purim again

Jack the Ripper – A woman's best fiend

It's the real thing – Whatever that is

Going out of business – Again

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Small and large pieces of paper still abound whether you like it or not. Sooner or later you'll find something you understand and amuses you.

Uneven Playing Field

It's sad, but it's routine. There are times when context is omitted and only pretext remains. It may be intentional or it may be based on ignorance, but in either case it may lead to misleading conclusions.

For example there is much in the media on the topic that “Black Lives Matter.” But so do brown and white and any other lives. The latter, however, are not the concern of some groups who emphasize police “racism” – the killing of innocent black men by white police. But American society has been racist for hundreds of years and the police often reflect society's views – even if only in a minority of cases. It shouldn't happen at all. The numbers are small, but one is too many. Mention is rarely made however of the numerous killings of blacks by blacks, or of the killing of whites by blacks. And the assassination of the police doesn't usually last more than one news cycle. But the protests of the killing of blacks by white police is usually extended along with the riots (and associated deaths), even though such tragedies are not common.

Portions of the incidents are often recorded on cellular telephones by witnesses who are presumed to be unbiased, and whose evidence is conclusive. These videos are often circulated on social media and “go viral” before any police report is filed, and the officer convicted in the public's mind before he has a chance to say anything. Indeed, police regulations regarding the release of information related to ongoing investigations may prevent him (or her) from defending himself publicly. And when the eventual trial comes (if the officer isn't indicted the community will protest loudly to the press) the memory of the officer, and his report, are attacked as self-serving and not to be believed. The report came long after the incident and the officer was under stress during the confrontation. They cannot be taken seriously. Only the witnesses are reliable, and only the evidence they present can be trusted.

As a partial solution of the problem the New York City Police Department will, next week, be outfitting its officers with body cameras to record such incidents. (It is also possible that knowledge of the cameras will lessen the number of incidents because those few who aren't following the rules will know that they are being monitored.) This policy, however, has provoked further protests and there are demands that implementation be delayed. For example, the ACLU and others insist that there be no viewing of tape by the officer before a report is written, and memory aided by documentation shouldn't be allowed. The previous regulation was written when officers had only their memories on which to rely. The memories were challenged. And (often incomplete) community videos and testimony were given greater weight than the assertions of the police. Now that memory can be aided there is the possibility that the video and the report will correspond. Memory will be more accurate and lawyers will have less opportunity to question it or to find a discrepancy between the written report and the video. Those using their 'phones have no restrictions of this sort and can select what they choose to film, what they submit to lawyers, and what they put on the internet. And when they do so.

Early recording would be helpful because it may provide documentation of what happened before the home-made videos were turned on to record the “unjustified” police violence. There has never been great concern about the videos submitted by “uninvolved” bystanders – what they included and what they omitted. What they contain is sufficient to convict. What happened prior to their being turned on is obvious. Now that the police may have cameras it is self-evident that they should be turned on at the beginning of the incident so that nothing is missed, and if it isn't, the entire recording is suspect. The argument seems logical, even though there had been no concern by protesters about what may previously have been omitted in the videos of “witnesses.” And there is no concern that stopping to turn on a camera at the very beginning of an incident may result in its intensification or danger to those involved.

What results is a protest against what should help in the proper function of the justice system. Whom does that help? The protesters, and the lawyers seeking either conviction of the police or large monetary settlements. Perhaps they are justified, but limiting the opportunity to obtain unbiased evidence is not the way to accomplish legitimate goals. Both the public and the police are entitled to a fair system and a level playing field.

April 20. 2017

There's A Word For It

When we got the comic book home we devoured it. It had cost ten cents, a significant piece of change for us at the time, and we weren't going to miss a thing. It was good guys against bad – supergood versus superbad. There was no subtlety. Sure the girls read comic love stories, but they weren't very subtle either. And superheroes were mostly for the boys anyway. Archie and Jughead, Betty and Veronica, provided some of the laughs.

Sometimes we sat on the floor in the back of the candy store as we read them; sometimes we devoured them on the subway train. Our parents weren't thrilled by the idea, but we were reading. It wasn't all bad. Especially considering some of the other, less civilized, activities of youth about which they read in the newspapers. They urged us to do our homework before reading the comics, but they knew we'd read them sooner or later.

After all, they read the comics also. They were in the newspaper and could be better hidden – even when they were in public. But no adult would read a comic book on the subway. It was evidence of childish ignorance and fantasy.

It's different now. Now there are comic books for adults. We've made them acceptable and you now see people (usually women) reading them on the subway.

What accounts for this change in behavior? Well, it doesn't hurt that they're the size of pocket books and look less like the childrens' variety. Nor that they're a little less subtle and a little more “sensitive.” They also cost more which puts them in the adult range.

But the real reason for their newfound popularity is that they're no longer “comic books.” Sure they may look like them, but they're “graphic novels.” That's all it takes. Now it doesn't sound like something for kids. They're adult fare. It's just a commercial application of something we've been doing for years. We think that words govern the nature of matter – that words matter.

Well, they do. It's not far-fetched. Consider the Sapir-Whorf (or Whorf-Sapir – it depends on whom you read) Hypothesis. Their view was that if there's no word for a particular concept, you can't really think about it. So, they conclude, the structure of a language affects its speakers' world view. Perhaps you suffer from yokomeshi. You'll never know. Perhaps when you try to speak Japanese you get anxious. Still you'll never realize that you're not alone and there's a particular syndrome of stress induced by trying to speak a foreign language (and the Japanese have that particular word for it). So you just suffer through Spanish and Russian classes without knowing why you're nervous. Or, perhaps, you felt satisfaction, when your neighbor's prior success went down the tubes. It's actually Schadenfreude, an ailment from which we all suffer – or which we all enjoy. And the shades of meaning of unfamiliar concepts in unknown languages is one of the main causes of yokomeshi for translators, though they view our discomfort with Schadenfreude.

Words do mean something. But it may not be what we think. They're flexible. They change over time. So “nice,” which is derived from nescio, the Latin word for the idea of not knowing – ignorance – is now more positive. I suspect that at one time a “nice distinction” was one without a difference, but now it's one that makes an important point. Quite the opposite. Over the millennia, “nice” has gone from a pejorative to a word of praise and compliment.

That, however, is evolution. Revolution takes place as well. It may be the invention of new words and phrases that takes place with slang, but there may be more sinister intent. Thus Orwell, in 1984, introduced the use of “Newspeak,” which both limited the meanings of words and, sometimes, gave them connotations, opposite to what we understood them to be. Or, as with “blackwhite,” contradictory meanings depending on the circumstances.

Readers, though, understood Orwell's intent and the word usages. It was all part of a story. It was imaginary even if it was threatening. But we've gone further, by changing the meanings of words to rid our language of ideas we don't like – and it's not fiction. We use euphemisms to disguise ideas that may “offend” others. (Actually, most of the time we're the ones offended. Not those we claim to protect.) We no longer have “retarded” children. They're “special” now. For a while they were “slow learners,” but even that was too harsh. There was a time when some children were diagnosed with “minimal brain dysfunction,” MBD, but parents didn't want their offspring so labeled – partly because it reflected on the kids, and partly because it suggested that they may have passed on a defect to them. With a change in the label – though no change in the cause – the process not only became acceptable, but was accepted with joy as a justification for a variety of problems. Indeed, ADD, attention deficit disorder (or ADHD which often accompanies it, especially in boys), is in fashion and over-diagnosed, to the great benefit of the drug companies.

Having noted the scent of “hurtful” words, we now smell them everywhere, whether or not they are present. “Niggardly” is misunderstood to be derived from the “N word” (we shudder to go beyond the first letter – to spell out what we think) even though there is no relationship between them, and the idea of “trigger” words and “microaggressions” is limiting our right of free speech, especially on college campuses where the exchange of ideas should take precedence over “sensitivity” and the eager adoption of ignorance rather than learning.

Our efforts to “reach out and touch somebody” have all the subtlety of a comic book graphic novel. We're sensitive to the point of non-communication. Even our superheroes have matured. It's a laugh.

September 20, 2016

Various Revelations IV

A few days ago, as a response to Syria's gas attack on its own citizens, the United States struck the airfield from which the planes dropping the gas had come. The attack was roundly condemned by those nations that routinely condemn us for any action and applauded by some of our allies. Interestingly it was not condemned by other countries that usually find fault with us. And that includes many states in the Middle East.

This morning (April 9, 2017), I heard on the radio a criticism of the action by one of our “experts” who claimed we had acted without a strategy. It has become clear that the Syrian regime, among others, takes inaction as irresolution and it provides a background for the furthering of its goals. A few years ago, after a gas attack, President Obama declared the use of gas a “red line” that couldn't be crossed without response. Of course it was crossed and the “response” was a pact with Russia to demand the removal of all chemical agents from Syria. Russia opposed any action against Syria, which was its ally. So Syria was free to act, and it did. Our threat about crossing the red line was not followed up by any real action even though Assad had challenged the president by his continued use of chemical agents.

I don't know the response of the expert mentioned above to the failure of the US to take more definitive action earlier, but it is clear that the “strategy” that accompanied our pact with Russia failed. Perhaps a show of force will have more long-lasting effects than a verbal display of anger. That appears to be the assessment of Middle East nations which have remained silent. They're better aware of the situation than we, and they haven't protested our actions, although they usually join together in opposition to anything we do in the area if it doesn't contain criticism of Israel. Are they beginning to recognize the risks of terrorism? Are our strength and determination welcome signs? Can they identify a strategy we're missing? We'll see.

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Two Coptic churches in Egypt were blown up today, Palm Sunday, by ISIS members. (How typical to attack on someone else's holy day, but that's the way you make “holy war.”) Imagine. There are still Christians in the Middle East despite the attempts of some Islamists at ethnic cleansing. It's clear they're not welcome since there has been war against Christians in the area for years. Numbers are dwindling for which the world usually blames Israel. The smallest of the Abrahamic religion is blamed for the attack on the largest, while the one like to take over the lead in a few years is pitied and defended. Meanwhile the Christians seek a place in the region where they can pray openly – and only Israel provides that.

What's most striking is the lack of world response. It's not an issue of consequence to most nations. Christianity may, for the time being have a lead over Islam in number of adherents, but most Christian leaders seem to have little interest in the problem. It seems to be better for liberal church leaders to overlook the actions of Islamic terrorists and blame all problems on Israel and the Jews. Islamophobia is sinful, but antisemitism is not. Antisemitism has a long history and takes precedence over the deaths of Christians, and condemning Israel and the “zionists” overrides any other consideration.

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It strides me that Big Brother had the right approach – at least in one way – although he didn't apply it the way I'd prefer. “Newspeak” (and “doublespeak”) makes a lot of sense conceptually. According to the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, we can only think about things for which we have words. For example, nadi in Balinese refers to the idea of “temporarily inhabit[ing] another dimension” (Rheingold, They Have A Word For It) which is not an idea that has much meaning among westerners. We wouldn't think in such terms.

Big Brother redefined words, giving them meanings that suited his political agenda. “Minipax,” which is the “Ministry of Peace” is actually the ministry of war and responsible for perpetuating conflict as justification for the actions of the government and for its longevity; “Miniluv” (the Ministry of Love”) is in charge of brainwashing. After a while people accepted concepts which might be contrary to common sense, but, repeated often enough while excluding all other uses of particular words from public use, became the only meanings that could be associated with those words. Those were the definitions and that became the only thoughts imparted by them.

It works the same way for the rest of us, especially with the rapid changes that occur in slang (and abbreviations and solicisms in the social media). As an example, what used to be “good” or “great” became “bad.” Repeated often enough, and with adequate manipulation the definition could be made to change. And with time, pejorative uses of the word would disappear from our consciousness.

If Sapir and Whorf were correct, and we changed the meaning of “war” to relate to positive interactions of nations – if the idea of fighting were made to disappear – perhaps the reality would disappear with it. Similarly, by establishing a “national language board” or its equivalent, charged with the responsibility of changing the language to meet social and political “needs” we might, at the cost of language, civilize civilization. We have a violent vocabulary much in need of softening. Some changes might be beneficial.

Mixed Grill VII

Here we go again. Admit it. You look forward to these sessions if only to look down on them. So who am I to deprive you of that privilege?

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Dodge the pullet – It wants to stay safe, even when crossing the road. Avoid the temptation to ram it. Don't worry. It'll run. It's chicken.

Logic

Socks disappear despite our efforts not to lose them.

Wire hangers increase when we're not looking.

Therefore socks must be converted to wire hangers.

We stand on the shoulders of those who have preceded us and I must express my gratitude to Newton, Clausius, and Einstein for helping me discover this remarkable fact. The laws of physics, especially thermodynamics, interchangeability between mass and energy, and quantum theory, dictate this inevitable conclusion.

A just decision – Hell, arbitrators have to live too, even if its necessary to alter their rulings based on who gives the bigger bribe.

Monopoly – Result of a merger between Hasbro and Parker Brothers. Cornered the market on games and got a “Get out of jail free” card to boot.

Manogram – Radiographic study of the male breast. Sometimes followed by a manstectomy.

There's room for all G-d's creatures. Right next to the mashed potatoes – Seen on a Saskatoon billboard showing a moose. Substitute tofu if you're a vegan. But I don't know how you can be so cruel to the potatoes.

What goes around comes around – but that's okay since you had it already and you're immune

A stitch in time wastes nine – If it's the wrong stitch.

Bay of Pigs – Sounder of swine, passel of hogs, drift, drove, or just plain lots. Made us look like a school of minnows.

Ho, Ho, Ho, Merry Christmas – Santa brings presents to a brothel

Netwok – Chinese food directory on the internet

If you have ten thousand regulations you destroy all respect for the law (Winston Churchill)

If you can't stand the humidity, get out of the schvitz

A House divided – Mark's prediction regarding the US Congress. He was unaware of the Senate. Lincoln knew of the Senate, but he preferred not to talk about it.

Jolly Green Giant – Paul Bunyan and his blue-green ox Babe have gone environmental

Naarishment – Organic and natural foods. Free-range anything.

Top of the mourning – Coffin lid for a wake. Guest of honor not awake.

Womantra – Hmmmenrpigs, hmmmenrpigs, hmmmenrpigs …

Death penalty – Hockey. Seven minutes. For very extreme violence.

Water Board – Torture in Flint, Michigan. Water prices raised but not a drop to drink. Indeed, the new Board motto is “Don't drink the water.”

A fair settlement – Bribe to mistress to get out of town so the wife won't find out.

Fly swatter – Distant relative of thumbscrew. Very Effective.

Hollywood – Yule log raw material

Patience and shuffle the cards (Miguel De Cervantes)

Just say “no” – Bad advice. Just say “Yes, dear.”

Oxford – Cattle car

Patchy fog – Political debate

Random – Competed in a marathon without preparation or saying anything about it

Yes I Can – Grandma just put up her tomatoes and wrote a book about it.

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Okay. You don't understand them all. Hard cheese. I know what they mean. As the announcer on Batman said, “The worst is yet to come."

October 5, 2016

Tax Day Plastic

Happy April 18^th. It's also the anniversary of Paul Revere's ride. Actually it was Paul Revere, William Dawes and Samuel Prescott who rode, and only Prescott made it to Concord to warn the troops. Revere and Dawes were captured by the Redcoats.

And it's tax day. But you knew that. Anyway, don't wait to pay. We're all depending on you. Today's the day that we make our annual offering to Uncle Sam so he can pay for all the things he's decided we need. Like the military, roads, supervision of the food and drugs we buy, paying the salaries of bureaucrats, welfare, and other similar expenses.

Most of the year, however, we don't think about it. We only consider what the government should be doing, without giving a second thought to how it's financed. It's only on tax day that it becomes obvious that we are paying for it. For only on tax day does it become clear who is responsible for the bill. On any other day all governmental expenses are jake (or cool, or acceptable, copacetic, agreeable, or whatever other term you like). They have nothing to do with us.

So when, on some other day, we join in the demands that the government help us out with whatever we need, that it support this or that group, establish some particular program, or increase its payments to some organization (for example, the United Nations), we give no thought to the financing. The government is accountable to us and we demand that it do what is right and equitable.

And it should.

But we don't always agree on what is right and equitable. No matter. That will get worked out, and in the meantime we've been the agents of moral excellence. It's our Constitutional right to speak out, to demand that it follow whatever path we find proper. Cost is no object. We mustn't deny our country's needs, and those of our fellows who should receive the support to which they're entitled by virtue of being in this country – legally or illegally. After all, the government is paying and the government has plenty of money. Besides, those making the demands want the money to come from the rich (read: “anyone but me”). It's like paying with a credit card. It doesn't hurt until much later, and by the time the bill comes due it's hard to associate it with any particular expense. It's easier just to pay it – even if that means not having something else. There's no correlation with a specific purchase.

We spend most of the year in complete denial – we're in willful disregard of the implications of people's demands – and their ignorance of anything but what they want. (And they're entitled to whatever they desire, whether it's for themselves, or for whatever they consider just.) Very much like children they are cognizant only of their own wants – and, of course, virtue – not considering what it may cost, and who will pay. Very much like a credit card, it doesn't hurt. Someday the bill will come due, but that's not the day of the demands, so there's nothing to worry about. The problem is that, as in the case of a credit card, it's easy to overspend, and that's what we've done. Right now, March 1^st, 2017, as I write this, the national debt, according to “US Debt Clock.org, is approaching twenty trillion (yes, trillion) dollars – that's almost one hundred and sixty-seven thousand dollars per taxpayer. Eventually, however, someone is going to have to pay it, no matter how far down the road we kick the can. And the main funder of the debt will be you – the taxpayer. (Maybe we can delay it long enough to be our grandchildren's problem. I'm sure they won't mind.) It's just like a credit card, only there isn't anyone or any organization that will be able to get you off the hook.

Personally and nationally we spend a good deal of time deciding what we want, not what we can afford. Sooner or later, though, we have to give some thought to what we have done. That day is today – tax day – and however righteous our demands, we have to be prepared to pay for them. Are you ready?


Many happy returns.








March 1, 2017

Wine And Cheese

According to the second law of thermodynamics, as time goes by things deteriorate. It has to do with “entropy” – the concept that tells us that there is a steady increase in randomness everywhere. It's all downhill. Everything changes for the worse.

Well, almost everything. An aged cheese or an old vintage may have improved with age (though we may argue about whether this means that the old is better or indicates that we should focus on the value of change through the years). I certainly have. As the years have gone by I've changed for the better. You, too, probably. Looks like it's time to reevaluate. Since it's my blog I'll use myself as the subject of the evaluation. I'm doing the typing and I can do anything I want. I'm sure you'll have no trouble with that.

There is a comment attributed to Winston Churchill (though he probably adapted it from someone else) that says

If you're not a liberal at 25, you have no heart. If you are not a conservative at 35 you have no brain.

With experience and exposure to the world as it is rather than as we'd like it to be, liberals become more conservative. From Churchill's point of view this would have represented a change for the better. Even more basic, it demonstrated a belief that change is possible. That, however, is disputed.

The more things change the more they remain the same.

Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr gets credit for that one. What we're left with, however, is a salmagundi of ideas: entropy and deterioration, things change and can change for the better, and nothing changes. And, in some way or other, they're all right. (You're right, too.)

When I was young (not that I view myself now as old) I was a liberal. Most of us were. Churchill would have predicted it. We were open to the important ideas of the time and we were aware of what was going on around us. But though over the centuries the lot of human beings had improved, we could see only the ills. It was a world in which there many inequities, and we knew how to fix them. We were idealists. We subscribed to the principle that we shouldn't just stand there, we should do something. So we elected those with proposals to solve the problems quickly and improve the lots of the less fortunate. They were people of action – idealists like us. Perhaps they were over 25, but they had hearts. And neither they, nor we, paid much attention to randomness. We were focused. We had purpose.

Well, I'm still focused. I still have purpose. As do so many of my generation and those who preceded us. We have remained the same. I'm still an idealist, and, in that sense, a liberal. Yet I no longer believe in liberalism. At least not in the liberalism practiced today. Perhaps I have not changed, but my ideas have. (And so, for that matter, have the precepts that govern the liberalism of today.)

I used to believe that no one changes after the age of about twelve. What you see is what you get. Over time I revised the age down to nine. Then to six. Then to four. But now I realize that while I may have been correct, I was evaluating personalities, not ideas. And while people and their personalities don't change, their ideas do. That's what learning is.

I haven't changed, but my political philosophy has. And that's because I'm still open and aware. I've been battered by reality. And what I've seen over the years has been the failure of too many idealistic notions and plans because proponents were more interested in acting than thinking. They wanted to change the future without any consideration of the past or present. So previously tried approaches were repeated without the knowledge of their existence; and if they knew of the earlier failures they simply “tweaked” their plans rather than looked for a more promising approach. That would have slowed them down. Little attention was paid to possible consequences apart from what was intended. “Damn the torpedoes. Full speed ahead.”

There is nothing new under the sun. But there is little interest in the classroom in learning history. Because we don't learn from the past, however, we have no opportunity to understand it. But that's okay. Who cares? There was a time when most societies revered age. With age came wisdom. The Elders were the Sages. But those days are past. Now, like teen-agers, the young know more than their parents, and the arguments of the experienced are dismissed. We're wiser than our country's founders and all of those before us.

And our new technology has given us the ability to perform faster and better than in the past. Why learn how to multiply if a calculator can do it for you; why learn to read a clock if the genie in your 'cell 'phone will tell you the time? But we're sacrificing the abilities we once had for the shortcuts and ignorance that science can provide for us.

(Before concluding the rant, however, I must acknowledge that some things are better “young” than old; when the current is superior to the outdated. For example, fresh bread tastes better than a stale, moldy loaf. And mathematicians, develop early, while their colleagues in the humanities improve with age, assuming, however, that entropy, in the form of physical and mental deterioration don't take too much of a toll.

And there are instances when the new is better than the old. Believe it or not, antibiotics are more effective against pneumonia than leeches. But I have to admit that I prefer a Gregorian Chant to hip hop.)

Ah. Aged cheese on fresh, crisp bread. With an old vintage wine. And a Gregorian Chant playing in the background. More old than new, though parts have improved over time. Perhaps that's a philosophic as well as a culinary approach. Or revealing about my politics. But it works for me.

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Please note that since I'm writing these long in advance I've decided to date them.
September 18, 2016

Various Revelations III

I had a little too much wine tonight. I guess that means I'm drunk, although there's no way that I'll ever find out what my blood-alcohol level was. Interestingly my recognition of a problem centers on the physical aspects of my problem rather than an attack on the intellectual. I guess that's why so many accidents are caused by people who thought they were capable of driving. There may be all sorts of recommendations about drinking and driving, but they're of no interest to those who consider themselves sober. Rational judgment is gone.

Me? I'd be a hazard on the road right now. But fortunately I have no place to go so there's no problem. I had three glasses of wine instead of my usual one or two, so I'm unfit for further activity. At least in public. In addition, irrespective of my current perceived lucidity, I doubt that I have the reflexes and physical control necessary to operate a motor vehicle. (Indeed, my ability to write this essay is provided by the spell-checker in my word processor; and more attention than I usually pay to things I write. I think I can think clearly, but my unsteadiness tells me that I'd be a peril were I to try to take a position behind the wheel. Unless I were in a self-driving car of some kind. (Notwithstanding the fear people have of them, I suspect they're safer than the human-driven ones now on the road.) People tend to overestimate their own capabilities, and to deny that they are in any way compromised. If they can still think, they can still drive.

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Our army is in Iraq. A few days ago one of our bombing missions killed 14 members of ISIS. I think that's the number. Unfortunately one to two hundred civilians were also killed. We killed ten times more people we were “protecting” than the number who threatened them. We claim that the civilians were “human shields” for the combatants, but they didn't help. No threat to our country was cited. There is no protest that I've seen in the media or among our citizens.

When Israel was under direct rocket attack from Gaza in 2014 and fought back (Operation Protective Edge) with bombing of the sites of origin of the rockets and the sites of storage of armaments – often in schools or hospitals as shields – some civilians were killed. They,too, were human shields. The world protested. “Disproportionality.” Only a few Israelis were killed by the Hamas attacks. So it wasn't justified.

I have the sense of a double standard. The world doesn't care unless it can express its righteous indignation at Israel. Massacres in Africa, killings in the Middle East outside of Israel, wars elsewhere, are all understandable and not subject to the attention and wrath that the world's nations, and the United Nations, display when some perceived wrong involves Israel. In 1975 Eric Hoffer wrote

Civilized countries fell over each other to court Hitler even as he turned Germany's Jews into pariahs. The same countries are falling over each other to court the Arabs, who are determined to destroy Israel. The world feels no shame when it betrays Jews. It is as if fate has placed Jews outside the comity of mankind.

Nothing has changed in the eighty years since the Holocaust, or to the pandering of mankind to Arab interests that Hoffer decries.

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Is it time to think small? Many years ago I used Super Scripsit on my TRS-80. The learning curve was long, but it did everything I needed. It was a small program and lacked some of the bells and whistles on the word processor I'm using now, but most of those are of no interest to me. Then Radio Shack discontinued it and I've been through several word processors since. They're much bigger, fancier, and more expensive but I can't recall anything that was lacking in Super Scripsit, or what the new programs provide that I need. And the files I created on the TRS-80 are now closed to me. I haven't noticed the loss but there are likely to be some documents that I'd benefit by having back.

And the same is true not only of many other programs but of technological progress in general. I'm not a Luddite wed to the idea of stopping scientific advancement, but it seems to me that some of the less complex programs should be allowed to live, and machines should be made to understand and work with some of the older and smaller ones. I realize that such an action would lower profits, and that's un-American, but it would improve people's views of companies that make the new products, and might pay off in the long run.

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There's nothing earth-shattering here, but the issues have been annoying me and I decided to annoy you. More next time – whenever that is.

March 30, 2017  (begun on March 28, but I was in no condition to continue.)

Some Thoughts

SPOILER ALERT: This essay will deal with the subject of death. If that offends you, depresses you, or is of no interest, now is the time to bail out. No one will know except you.

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You're probably aware by now that I've had surgery for cancer (of the pancreas) but since no evidence of spread was found during the procedure, and all the lymph nodes removed were free of tumor, my doctor is optimistic. So am I. The surgery was six months ago today (irrespective of when you're reading this, “today” is September 15^th, 2016 and I was operated on on March 15^th) and a CT examination I had earlier this week (because of a continued elevation of a particular blood marker) only demonstrated the presence of a fluid collection at the operative site – a not uncommon event – but no evidence of recurrence. In all likelihood that fluid collection, a seroma, was the cause of the blood abnormality. What could be bad? I'm receiving chemotherapy as a “precautionary” measure but there's no particular finding to follow apart from how I feel, which is fine apart from occasional abdominal pains which aren't new. Actually I'm hungry most of the time.

What follows is something I wrote earlier this week. It will serve as a beginning of a description of my thought processes during the past few months.

Feeling pretty good today. The anxiety has worn off and I'm back to my usual (lack of) serenity. Yesterday's I was dying (literally, I thought) but not today. Not “dying” in the sense that a stand-up comedian might suggest – “I was dying out there” – but in a very physical sense. With the rising Ca 19-9 and the increasing abdominal symptoms [probably psychosomatic] I was convinced that there was a recurrence. The reassurance from the CT has eased my mind. There are still some explanations required, but they're relatively insignificant.

I wrote it earlier this week, the day following the CT – the day my doctor read the report to me. Since a couple of weeks prior to my surgery, starting about the time the diagnosis was originally made, I've been keeping a “diary” of my thoughts about the whole affair. (I've also had separate ideas that I haven't recorded and I'll include them as I relate a summary of the maunderings that appear in the diary.) I may even have expounded on some of them before in this series of essays. Who remembers? Indulge me. I'd do the same for you.

Not surprisingly, a lot of the diary is devoted to thoughts about death. It hasn't really mattered whether I was feeling well at the time or whether my symptoms were obvious – death has always been coloring my thoughts (and, from now on, I guess it always will). It's been difficult to consider anything without giving thought to how my death would affect it. That means that I've wondered about the wisdom of buying new things that I can do without if I'm going to die soon; it means that I keep wondering how everything will work out. I'm convinced that my death will mean a complete separation from all my experiences in this world; that if, in some form of “life” after death, I have any cognition, it will be totally unrelated to my life's contents: I won't have any knowledge of the people I knew or the world in which I lived. It will be a totally unrelated phenomenon, one lacking in awareness of this world. It's not all bad, though. I don't recall large parts of my childhood yet I don't suffer from the lack. And if my understanding of the teachings of my heritage is correct, it will be far more glorious than anything I've ever experienced.

But I've spent more time pondering what concerns me more, which is the possibility of eternal nothingness. If that's the case, however, I'll never know it. And that's what probably bothers me more than any other consideration. I'll never know what people said about me at my funeral – for better or for worse. Some, but not all, will be true. Of course it will all be complimentary – you don't speak ill of the dead. At least not in front of a grieving family and other witnesses. But, as I said, I'll never know.

And, I fear, I'll never know what happened with my children, grandchildren, and the generations that followed, nor what happened to my country and the world situation. And I'll be completely ignorant of the fate of my people. But, of course, I won't be aware of that ignorance or of my lack of knowledge of other matters – of anything at all.

And that's the “rub.” I've always wanted to know how things turn out. What happened next. Sleep has never been a threat because I was always confident I'd wake up afterwards. I'm not especially concerned about nightmares since, for the most part, they haven't been a problem. And dreams provided interesting interludes – diverting nocturnes. I didn't always remember their contents, but, when I awoke, I knew that I had had them and enjoyed myself along the way.

“When I awoke.” That was the key. I was sure that I'd wake up. There was a future. So if I missed something while I was sleeping I could always catch up on it when I awoke. But if the scenario of eternal nothingness is correct there will be no catching up. I'll never know, and I'll never know that I don't know. And I won't care. In fact I won't anything.

I'm not afraid of death. I'm aware that I haven't gone through all of Kubler Ross's stages. Denial of course. I'm perpetually in denial. But no anger, bargaining, or depression. Straight through to acceptance. Of course at my age death is always on the horizon so I've come to accept the idea that, sooner or later, it will come. It's normal. Death is a normal part of life. I'm no different from everyone who preceded me. And, after a while, I'll be forgotten by those who knew me. Those who didn't will have nothing to forget.

And I'll never know what happened next.