Wit & Whim

Last night was a pleasant little affair. I sat for four hours listening to Rogers and Hammerstein--which I am hardly nuts about--in tones so flat that I could almost swear that the bulldog painted on the wall behind me started baying. Out came Jonathan; a dazzling bright spot complete with rich and room filling voice. Jonathan and his charming Lisle, however, quickly faded away to allow more time for the weak male lead and the painfully gay and tonedeaf max; poor max, who had no sense of comedic timing. I still keep going back to the one energetic and acceptably well acted scene of the whole performance; that made the whole thing worth it. Casanova the Hun did a masterful job. (Nine or ten hours elapse) I had a fantastic morning, which included me discovering a baby that really likes me, a beautiful service complete with insightful sermon that confirms that Holiness can read my mind (will have to concentrate on throwing up walls), and lunch with excellent company. The plans for that af

So. I was at the library today, helping some good comrades with their prep for our upcoming Bartky exam. While doing this, a rather loud pair sat right behind me. I used my incredible hearing (which functions even better when you are speaking in full voice five feet from my ear) and ability to split focus, and I listened shamelessly to a conversation between the chick with a cool accent and the guy that appeared to be the epitome of stupid in Abercrombie. The word that caught my ear was Pushkin. Not something college students are likely to talk about. For the few the few brief minutes that I listened it was rather painful. She turned out to be a Russian. She was asking him questions and trying to find if he knew anything about Russian culture or history. He, working his very hardest to shame the American peoples, admitted to never having heard of, Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment, War and Peace, Anna Karenina, Tolstoy, Pushkin, Gogol, Ivan the Terrible, Peter the Great, Catherine the

In my com class there have been a couple things I have disagreed...make that many, but none rubbed me quite like these two. The claim that slippery slope and bandwagon appeal are not valid reasoning tools is ridiculous. Sure, no argument can stand on these alone, but to say that they are not a valid part of one's repertoire is absurd. The slippery slope is the single most prominent pattern in history. The order in which governments come and go in Socrates and Aristotle is just a progression of slippery slopes, one after the other. Every time it is a case of one event setting off a whole slide of them. The slippery slope has a huge place in the Socratic method and is used throughout the republic. Patterns are powerful predictive tools, so why would you rule out the most regular pattern in history as a legitimate tool? And what is bandwagon appeal if it is not social acceptability? Since when does the approval of society count for nothing in the actions and beliefs of the individual?

"You don't remember the best times of your life because the best times of your life happen while you are drunk." Those are the last words a young man said to me. He did not die--no, worse--he was arrested for rape two days after he said that to me. He destroyed another life and made an animal of himself. Apparently, from those who had seen him earlier that night, he was--hold your breath--drunk. I am working through research on alcohol consumption amongst minors and the disasters it breeds. The little academics and I have some slight differences in opinion on the way it needs to be handled. They all realize that there will always be underage drinking; this is no surprise. The vast majority, however, still think that protection is the way to go and that the best thing parents can do to stop their children from drinking themselves to death is give them sex talk: special alcohol addition. These jejune philosophers think that a small contingent of words, and an even smaller c

Do you ever notice that the people who claim to have received bounty from God because they gave to so-and-so televangelist often receive this bounty through, gambling, the lottery, etc? Just a thought. ;-p

What are you willing to give up for security? Of nation? Of health? Of finances? National security is a restrictive thing. They listen to phonecalls without warrants; that hasn't changed. They use special machines to examine your naked body before you board a plane. They require incredible amounts in tax. They call certain behavior risky and place people who act in that manner on watch lists. There are, however, lengths that we do not allow, yet. In my opinion we give up a little too much for security, but it is an area provided for in the constitution. Imagine National healthcare with the same "common sense" restrictions and rules. If your health is the business of the state, then they have every reason to regulate your diet and exercise; to order you to quit smoking; to govern what kind of car you drive, choosing the safer and environmentally friendly car; to examine you when they see fit. All of those things have a huge impact on health, and if your health is the busin

Sitting around home has left me an unusually long span of time to devise idiocies. One of which I will be presenting at great personal risk. Today, I will share with you the discovery I made concerning a certain demigoddess under our roof. It all began when I saw her young (french nosed) servant entering the domicile. I was about to ask this strange young priest--for so he was!--from whence he came and why he came, but something about his manner checked me. At first, I thought he was arguing with himself. It was not until I questioned the young priest that I discovered that he had been brought to my hovel by an extremely powerful and not always reasonable witch, and he was out of sorts because she had recently been finding fault with him. I was about to laugh at the fellow, to tell him to be off, when she swept in. Her wrath was terrible to behold and she uttered such shrieks as no mortal man could withstand. Before my very eyes she eviscerated the disobedient servant, thrice cursed fo

The last few days have been worth more to me than any in a long time. Even in the midst of a cold, the recent sunlight and warmth make me feel like a different man. I am more cheerful. I have no ill-temper. Sitting in the sun with a good book made for a very good day today. There is the knowledge that I will be returning to work shortly, but hundreds of pages of--simply worded dreck--are not so bad if I can read them outside...that is, without freezing my keister off. Between the whole disease thing and the sunshine I have been reading a huge amount recently. Good development. I need to see if I can take Bartky's test on a computer. I really don't need another painful slog like that last one. I have some stuff I want to blog, but it is all so terribly long and in depth...I keep telling myself to sit down and write some of it out...but I really can't be bothered. Maybe next time.

Freedom, life, fresh air, springyness! IPFW was ready for spring. My classes were almost empty, my professors were in a genial mood, the student body wasn't nearly so banal, and I actually received a smile for each that I gave out. History was history. I cannot agree with many of Erickson's views, but there is no denying that she is an excellent teacher and that she has the style to keep things interesting. The surprise came at the end when I figured out that I wouldn't be receiving my paper back immediately...at least, not if I consented to her to making copies of it. I picked it up this afternoon, and was not surprised to see that it was an A. Encouraging. My MC&F exam was easy; it does not really deserve more mention. Frau Schulz was in a glowing good mood. She spoke animatedly about the various draconian punishments which should be administered to the lazy bums who weren't there today. All this time she was sporting a massive grin. I averted any ire over missing

The entire theory of my Communication text-book is that the self is impermanent and infinitely malleable, and a function of action and circumstance. The self, the ego. There is no mistaking the term they are using; the word is soul. Effectively, doing it quietly, this book flies right in the face of foundational western philosophy. The reason found in the Greeks for pursuing reason is because it is the good of soul. They are the same word, which word I would write if blogger allowed Greek characters. Self is the immortal part of man, the part closest to the gods. It is because the self is immortal that reason--the good of the soul--is considered the highest pursuit. In reason man comes closest to immortality. I need hardly say that Jewish and Christian thought hold the self to be immortal. So I, though it may mean little, cannot really countenance saying that the self is a process. Personality is a process, but the self is not wholly our own. I tend to take that "you are mine"