Ground Zero Mosque supporters: doesn’t it stab you in the heart, as it does ours throughout the heartland? Peaceful Muslims, pls refudiate.

However, “refudiate” is not a word. At best, it is a portmanteau of refute and repudiate and Palin subsequently reposted her tweet with refute. Except refute means “to prove wrong” or” to deny the truth or accuracy of” something, so that doesn’t really fit. In the end, she most likely meant repudiate, as in “to refuse to have anything to do with : DISOWN” or maybe even in the sense of “to refuse to accept.”

Nevertheless, when called out on her use of both refudiate and refute, Palin’s response was to compare herself to Shakespeare:

“Refudiate,” “misunderestimate,” “wee-wee’d up.” English is a living language. Shakespeare liked to coin new words too. Got to celebrate it!

Except, she is not Shakespeare; she is not making up a new word that has a new meaning nor even combining two words whose meanings together add up to meet what she means. Instead, she did mean repudiate – it is the word that comes the closest to what she is asking peaceful Muslims to do. Sadly, her coming off as an ineloquent yahoo is not going to buy her argument much credence with intelligent Muslims.

Since Sarah Palin thinks she is equal to Shakespeare and can make up words as she sees fit, I have decided to do the same, using her name as the root of several words. Please make use of these as often as possible to help spread their use and refudiate Sarah Palin.

Palin (n): An idiot, particularly when it comes to American politics, history, geography, the role of the Vice President, diplomacy and international relations, or seemingly much of anything.

Palinate (v): Like pollinating a flower, this is the spreading of Sarah Palin’s stupidity into the minds of others, particularly where those thoughts bear fruit in the form of sensationalized activism at Tea
Parties.

Palin Comparison (n): A nonsensical mixed metaphor on a political or social topic.

Palindin (n): derived from paladin (“a trusted military leader” or “a leading champion of a cause”)  An untrustworthy sidekick who is likely to go rogue and say stupid shit that sinks your chances of becoming President. A mindless champion of a cause who verbally grasps at straws to make her argument.

Palindrone (n): Any political speech full of aforementioned um, er, ah, and ya knows. Bonus points for malapropisms.

Palinesque (adj): To earnestly say ambiguous, rambling, made-up statements full of um, er, ah, and ya know. Again, bonus points for malapropisms.

Palinode (n):  the opposite of palinode (“a formal retraction”). A Palinode is an informal, spin-doctoring follow-up that attempts to excuse something by defending it, rather than retracting it. For example, Sarah Palin issued a Palinode equating herself with Shakespeare, rather than to admit she mistakenly used a word that does not exist.

Palinver (v): same definition of palaver (“to talk profusely or idly”)

Gone Palin (v): When the person you have chosen as a trusted, intelligent, and supportive partner turns out to be exactly the opposite and sinks your career. Worse still, she proudly writes a book entitled Gone Rogue, flouting her damage to your career as an accomplishment for her.

Should Sarah Palin ever get a divorce, I refudiate her — which is to say, I refuse to date her; she is just too dumb for me. She infudiates me. Or maybe I should say she infeudiates me — since she both infuriates me and makes me want to declare a family feud between my family and hers.

But enough of the joking. Now to the true heart of the matter…

As for the subject of putting a mosque near Ground Zero,  I think it is in questionable tact and taste to do so, but this country has never legislated against either poor tact or taste (just take a drive around). In addition, there is the ambiguity of the term “near.” Yes, within the few blocks proposed is definitely an ironically poor choice of location. However, how close could a mosque be built and avoid being offensive to those who are currently offended by it? Mid-town? Staten Island or Brooklyn? The Bronx? Westchester? Murfreesboro, TN? Sheboygan, WI? Let’s face it, whether it is a block away, a state away, or half a world away, we all live on the same planet and we had all better start figuring out how to live together.

Moreover, any legal effort via any governmental organization to block it would run up against the First Amendment restriction that no law can prohibit the free exercise of religion. At best, the issue can only be resolved through public discourse and negotiation – for those on both sides to not only explain their positions, but to listen and  be willing to find some middle ground and define where would be an acceptable location. To make that appeal, however, peaceful, intelligent Muslims must not be asked to “refudiate”, but to appreciate that if America will be tolerant of them, they should show similar tolerance and respect by considering another location. Moreover, both sides should engage in a peaceful and intelligent dialogue about what constitutes a reasonable, acceptable location. Perhaps Sarah Palin could spearhead a fundraising effort to acquire land just a few more blocks further away? But I suspect she would refudiate the merit of such diplomacy – which makes this probably the first time refudiate has actually been used with the dual meaning of refute (to deny the truth of) and repudiate (to refuse to be involved.) So maybe I’m Shakespeare now.

For more insight, I recommend these two news stories:

• Islamophobia and the Muslim center at Ground Zero
• Controversy Surrounds Construction of Mosques Across U.S.

All legitimate definitions cited in this posting were checked with Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary, Eleventh Edition. A copy of it should be sent to Sarah Palin.

President Obama has decided that there will no longer be a “National Day of Prayer” held in May. He doesn’t want to offend anybody. Where was his concern about offending Christians last January when he allowed the Muslims to hold a day of prayer on the capitol grounds. As a Christian American “I am offended.” If you agree copy and paste no matter what religion you are, this country was built on Freedom

It appears to be a summarized from an e-mail that has circulated since the last National Day of Prayer.

Let us break this down, claim by claim:

President Obama has decided that there will no longer be a “National Day of Prayer” held in May.

No source is cited for this claim, because none exists. It is a lie. Last year, Obama chose not to have the White House National Day of Prayer service, but he did still sign a proclamation recognizing the day and was described as observing the day privately. As of my writing this, he and his staff have made no other statement or proclamation indicating that he will cancel the day.

What is true this week is that a Federal court in Wisconsin — part of the Judiciary branch of government, not the Executive branch, if you recall your grade school education — has ruled that the National Day of Prayer violates the separation of church and state clause of the U.S. Constitution’s Bill of Rights First Amendment. The ruling is subject to further appeal, so this year’s National Day of Prayer can happen as scheduled until a higher court rules. In the event that this case reaches the Supreme Court, because of the separation of powers within our government, the President has no authority over the Judiciary to force either a cancellation or continuation of the National Day of Prayer.

He doesn’t want to offend anybody.

So, you’re offended by people who don’t want to offend people? Isn’t the desire not to offend what we also call politeness? Isn’t it a good thing to be polite? Don’t you raise your kids to be polite? Isn’t the opposite of being polite rude? Your answers to those questions might be thought-provoking, but given that the first sentence was false, they don’t matter to this issue. However, you may want to spend some time meditating on them and considering whether your religion has really provided you with a considerate, polite, and tolerant moral compass. (In case you didn’t get it, I’m inferring the opposite, but by your own measure you ought to admire my willingness to offend, right?)

As for whether or not Obama would avoid involvement in a national day of prayer or, for that matter, any reference to prayer or religion, maybe you should look at these items direct from President Obama on the White House Web site:

• 2009 Presidential Proclamation National Day of Prayer
• Remarks by the President at Easter Prayer Breakfast
• Remarks by the President at the National Prayer Breakfast

Where was his concern about offending Christians last January when he allowed the Muslims to hold a day of prayer on the capitol grounds.

The Muslims who prayed in Washington DC in 2009 did not require a license, permit, or any legal approval by the President or anyone within the Executive branch of our Federal government. They required a permit from the city of Washington in the District of Columbia (specifically, the U.S. Capitol Police.) The President neither allowed nor forbade them praying — he simply was not involved at all because their right to assembly and to prayer was not subject to his authority. Moreover, any Christians or Jews or pagans or anyone else who wanted to arrange a similar gathering would have been within their rights. Even atheists would be within their rights to assemble in our nation’s capitol to protest the National Day of Prayer or to observe a self-declared “day of pondering science.” It is, as noted in this viral status, a free country.

Moreover, I feel compelled to ask: Were you offended by allowing Muslims to pray in public? Really? Why would you be offended by Muslims being allowed to pray in public? Would you instead prefer to ban them from praying in public? Is that Christian love, tolerance, and respect? Is that according them the same treatment you would expect for your own beliefs and practices? Oughtn’t you to do unto others as you would have done unto you — and to allow others to do that which you would hope to be allowed to do?

If you want the facts about the “Islam on Capitol Hill” event, then check them.

As a Christian American “I am offended.”

As an Agnostic American, I too am offended — that you would want or accept your government establishing a day when it believes everyone should pray. Regardless of how ecumenical it is (or thinks it is) in acknowledging the rights of all religious people to pray, it is not the government’s job to be telling people when to pray. Nor is doing so inclusive of those Americans who have an equal right under the law to be free from any establishment of any kind of religion, no matter how well intended or “open-minded” it might try to be. Thankfully, the law has stopped short of compelling everyone to pray, but it is pretty close to the border of establishing religion and prayer as the officially sanctioned government preference — and that is a border the government should not be straddling.

If you agree copy and paste no matter what religion you are, this country was built on Freedom.

I love that this last sentence is a run-on sentence. It speaks volumes to the intelligence of whoever originally wrote it. However, I have more intelligent thoughts on the meaning and intent. I agree that no matter what religion you are, this country was built on freedom. One of those freedoms is from any establishment of religion by your government. So your government ought not to be sticking its proclamations into your choice of when, where, how, who, what, why, or even whether to worship. Therefore, the most appropriate response to any government “cancelling” a National Day of Prayer should be relief and gratitude, not anger. Especially if, on other matters, your Republican Conservativism compels you to object to “Big Government” and the “Nanny State.”

And that brings me back to the Federal Court decision from earlier today. Shouldn’t the Conservative response to this court decision be, like their response to the healthcare bill, that we do not need socialized religion? How can you object to “big government” involvement in fostering affordable healthcare for all Americans, yet you welcome having the government tell you — and everyone else — what day to pray? Or even to pray at all!

Think about it: This ruling in no way restricts your religious freedom. You can still pray on May 6 — or any other day you choose. You just won’t have the government telling you to do so. And isn’t that the definition of freedom?

Additional coverage of this topic:

• I found Michael Stone’s reporting in the Portland Progressive Examiner to be a clear analysis of the viral Facebook message.
• About.com’s Urban Legends page gives a concise analysis.
• You may also want to re-acquaint yourself with the First Amendment and the principle of separation of church and state, as well as the origins and history of the National Day of Prayer.

Since no such statement was made, the question is misleading. Therefore, the only correct answer is to not answer and to call-out the questioner’s motives for lying.

To my eyes, the question is intended to be divisive. If you answer “No,” you probably believe that Christianity is under attack in a culture war with Liberals and/or a spectrum of people who are, in a word, unChristian and you need to defend your faith — even if it means pushing the Church into the State. If you answer “Yes,” you probably believe that Conservative Christians are waging a culture war of intolerance against the broad spectrum of people of other faiths who have a right to either get equal representation in the public forum or to not have one religion’s culture dominate theirs — even if that means altering or removing traditions that Christians have had the luxury of enjoying in the public sphere by virtue of their historical majority in America.

Being an independent moderate, I’m going to analyze this and come to my own answer.

I tend to be a Literalist. If you are going to call it a Christmas Tree, it had better be a Christmas Tree and by Christmas, I mean concretely tied to Christ’s birth, or at least his life. Sounds Conservative of me, right? To that end:

1. Where is the Biblical support for the tradition?
2. What about the Christmas Tree makes it Christian?
3. What is on your Christmas Tree that you would use to defend calling it Christmas or Christian?

The Bible does not say there was a pine tree next to the manger — or even that the manger was made of pine lumber. At the Last Supper, Jesus didn’t say, “The bread is my body, the wine is my blood, and the pine tree is my birthday cake.” Instead, Jesus upholds the Old Testament commandment to not worship idols (Matthew 4:10, “Then Jesus saith to him: Begone, Satan: for it is written: The Lord thy God shalt thou adore, and him only shalt thou serve.”) Christmas Trees are merely rebranded pagan decorations and may not be consistent with some more fundamentalist Christian folks. Jehovah’s Witnesses, the Amish, and the United Church of God are all very devout Christian groups who do not have Christmas Trees and would probably either not care about a “Holiday Tree” or would, more conservatively, object to any tree at all.

Most of the time a “Christmas” Tree is a secular abstraction and a Literalist would be hard pressed to find much concretely Christian about it. At best, the star on top (if there is one) might be claimed to be the Star of Bethlehem. And some Conservative Christians might adorn it with ornaments that have Christian meaning. Nevertheless, the vast majority of people, including those who conservatively insist on calling it a Christmas Tree, have ladled this abstract icon with a mélange of secular, commercial, and even pagan ornaments.

Sometimes, the pagan ornaments find their way on there without the Christian even recognizing them as pagan in origin. Most Americans who would describe themselves a Christian also include Santa Claus in their Christmas celebrations and decorations. Yes, he did have a Christian origin in Saint Nicholas. However, he has become Santa Claus, the jolly old elf who has a factory full of elves. Elves? We’re back to pagan influences. Moreover, the modern Santa Claus is similarly questioned by the most conservative religious groups as being a secular tool of commercialism. Finally, he has many of the attributes of God (he watches you, he keeps a list of who is naughty or nice), which opens the question about whether he violates the first commandment.

I would ask that anyone who so publically defends calling it a Christmas Tree really stand back and take a long, hard look at their own tree this year. Are all of your ornaments religious? No Mickey and Minnie or other cartoon characters? No pagan fairies, pixies, elves? No golf clubs, sports team emblems, or other symbols of your favorite leisure activities? Nothing secular or commercial at all?

The logic of calling it a Christmas Tree is not supported by the Bible, the history of the tradition, or the way in which most people use it.

So I have, in an odd way, my own “conservative” side that would put me on the side of some of the most Conservative Christians — even more Conservative than most of those who insist it should be called a Christmas Tree. However, I am an independent moderate and see another side, as well. I will now lean toward a Liberal way of thinking…

People hold strongly to what they have known in their own lifetime, as if that is the way that it has always been. “Call it a Holiday Tree?!? Why, it’s always been a Christmas Tree and to change it would be unChristian!” However, it has only been a Christmas Tree since the 16th century — and even then started within a sub-culture of Christianity until it spread in the 19th century. Let’s also not ignore that its popularity coincided quite well with Commercialism and Consumerism, and the marketing of this tradition accounts more for its widespread use than any religious tradition.

By calling it a Holiday Tree, it allows a broader range of people to come together in peace and celebration — and isn’t that what Christianity is supposed to be about? I have open-minded Jewish friends who put up a Hanukkah Bush every year. I have open-minded pagan friends who put up a Winter Solstice Tree. I even have open-minded atheist friends who put up a decorated tree. None of this changes the core of their Judaism, paganism, or atheism, but it does allow all of us to celebrate together. And I have friends of all stripes who don’t put up any tree at all – and they are still fine people.

So do I call it a Christmas Tree or a Holiday Tree? Well, I call it a Christmas Tree when it is overtly Christian, devoid of anything secular or pagan, and is in a church or the home of someone who is a devout Christian, which is not very often. Or, sometimes, to at least show respect to gracious and polite hosts who insist on calling it a Christmas Tree within their home. Most of the time, however, calling it a Holiday Tree is more inclusive, expresses more love for my neighbor of any faith or lack thereof, and fosters peace on Earth (or at least here in America) and goodwill toward humanity — and to object to that would be unChristian.

Besides, would you rather there be no tree at all?

My new home office is now at least complete enough to have assembled furniture, which means I can start using it. I began moving into it this weekend.

In boxes packed six years ago, I have found the following:

• Every computer book I unpack violates my rule of not having any computer books with copyrights more than five years old.
• Worthless software from the Windows 98 and ME era.
• My 15-year-old After Dark Disney screensaver collection. I doubt it will run on Vista.
• Scores of 3.5″ diskettes. One box was new, never used, and went straight into the garbage.
• A pair of analog “rabbit ears” TV antenna — very useful now that digital TV has finally become the standard.
• A bunch of remote controls for things I no longer own.
• A brand new Handspring Visor that cost $400+ as a gift for my wife. Now worth less than $50 on eBay.
• An all-too-silly “Microsoft Internet Explorer 4.0 Commemorative Edition” CD in a tri-fold mailer full of marketing hype. Commemorative? I wonder what that is selling for as an eBay collectible?
• Scraps of paper with reminders for things I was supposed to do six or more years ago.
• My original scissors, tape dispenser, letter trays, stapler, and a complete collection of other original desk accessories — all of which I bought replacements for two-and-a-half years ago when I started Thabit Lee Media and couldn’t find the box of original supplies.
• My 30-year-old index card file box, which I have long since replaced with Windows Contacts.
• Close to 100 audio cassettes, most of them containining personal stuff I will now need to digitize. I also found my audio cassette deck to aid in the transfer.
• Enough recyclable paper to fill a paper grocery bag. And enough shredable paper to fill a third of a grocery bag.
• My first LaCie external CD burner, which ran at an amazing 4X speed and connected via a SCSI cable and card.
• A 56k dial-up modem.
• Enough dried out pens and highlighters to build a nice scale model of a log cabin.

I wouldn’t mind all this quite so much if something among it had retained or increased in value. After all, the new office has cost me probably over $2000 and will continue to require more investment for a new router, a NAS, probably a new Mac and maybe even a new PC soon, among other expenses. I just hope in six years I am not picking through another round of boxes of junk.

I woke up Friday morning, anxious to check the weather because I had travel plans for the weekend. Within a few minutes, I clicked through every local and national news channel, only to find that every one of them was running continuous coverage of Michael Jackson’s death. Even the local cable channel that everyone calls “the ugly news” was finding ways to cover it. I had to sit through ten minutes of “Michael Jackson has been dead for more than twelve hours, and still is, but we are continuing to follow this developing story…” before they finally paused to give a few seconds’ sound bite for the weather, after which they went right back to breaking news about Michael Jackson.

Developing? Breaking? More than twelve hours later? I began to wonder whether Michael would arise from the dead and reveal that he is, after all, the Second Coming.

I burned out on Michael Jackson while he was still at the height of his career. I bought “Shake Your Body Down to the Ground” and “Beat It,” but I didn’t consider much else worth buying. The white glove thing seemed silly and pretentious to me. Moreover, after Thriller, he quickly went weird, getting surgery to look like Diana Ross, setting up the Neverland ranch as a creepy Peter Pan haven, and constantly grabbing his crotch. His songs became lame. If Annie were okay, he would not have to ask “Annie are you okay” forty-three times in a four minute song (“Smooth Criminal”.) I was relieved when Nirvana’s Nevermind bumped Jackson’s Dangerous off the charts.

When the pedophile charges came out and the court cases ensued and dragged on, I got thoroughly disgusted with the freak show – and the freak at the center of it. Yes, I know, he was not found guilty. But, c’mon, even if there were no lines crossed, what is a man doing hanging out with an entourage of pre-pubescent boys? Why would he have them at his house for sleepovers, regardless of who slept in what bed? He was either a totally naïve idiot or he was bordering on an unhealthy interest. The circumstances themselves should not have been arising and every other adult professional around him should have been bursting any naïve bubble he may have been in.

When it came time to replace my vinyl 45s with MP3s, I no longer considered any of Jackson’s songs worth getting. Even if I accepted (which I do not) the “it’s the artistry, not the artist” argument, I just don’t think Jackson’s songs have aged well enough to still be considered great songs. On an artistic level, he is not the Beatles, he is not the Rolling Stones, he is not Fleetwood Mac, nor the Police, or Led Zeppelin, or Billy Joel, or any of a long list of other great 60s, 70s, or 80s musicians. More than that, however, I also cannot separate the “man” from his music. I refuse to buy anything he’s ever made because I don’t think he, either artist or person, deserves my money.

So to have Franken Jackson’s face thrust before me on more than a score of television channels Friday morning was more than I could take. I quickly set my facebook status to notify the world that I was boycotting television, radio, and even the Internet all weekend, waiting for the hype to blow over. Even before I logged off, I had Like and Comment notices indicating others agreed with me.

I have to confess, on my evening drive up to Saratoga Springs, I reached Albany and my resolve to avoid all media was wavering. I was well within WEQX range. EQX is a great, independent radio station from Manchester, Vermont. They play a lot of Modern Rock and advertise themselves as the “real alternative.” They introduced me to Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Blur, Oasis, Matthew Sweet, The Church, Joy Division, Arcade Fire, Fatboy Slim, Moby, Spoon, and Snow Patrol, among others. If I could count on any radio station to avoid getting caught-up in the media frenzy, it would be EQX. When I broke my resolution and turned on EQX, they were playing Wilco. I felt relieved.

However, as soon as Wilco ended, the DJ came on and started talking about Michael Jackson. He blathered on all too politely, regarding Jackson as an artist and musician, diplomatically dismissing any other considerations. What really pissed me off was when he said that every artist since the 80s would cite Michael Jackson as an influence and voice their respect for him as an artist. Excuse me? Why can I not imagine Noel Gallagher doing that? Nor, for that matter, very many other 90s Alternative Rock musicians who wanted to break the corporate produced mold that Jackson not only represented, but was their biggest, bestselling product.

I turned off EQX and remained in a media blackout until Sunday night. While I doubt the media will drop this story any time soon, I am hoping that voicing my distaste for the coverage will encourage others to do the same and we can finally get back to talking about far more important current events, such as the Iranian election, climate change, and the faltering global economy.

1. Landline phones: The highly unlikely scenario leaves me to wonder… but what happens when you dial 911 and can’t speak? Unless your cell can provide your location, going without a landline seems somehow riskier. Moreover, you will always have to keep your cell charged — and remember where you left the damnably small thing.
2. Floppy disks: I migrated off these almost a decade ago, burning every one of them to CD-Rs. I’ve been trying to migrate off of CD-Rs and onto a large external hard drive, with backup to DVD-Rs. All that said, I still have every e-mail, every Word doc, PDF, spreadsheet, photo, mp3, video, or any other files I’ve generated going all the way back to 1991. In addition, I have archives of most of the Web sites I’ve worked on.
3. Wristwatches:: I miss my Casio G-Shock. A glance at my wrist is still faster than fumbling for my cell phone in its holster. Moreover, my G-Shock had a 7-year battery life, while my cell has only 3 days in stand-by mode. I do still own a wind-up watch in an emergency bag, in case the eschatologists are right.
4. VHS tape and VCRs: Ah, fond memories of trekking down to South Broadway, in the snow, to rent a VCR and some tapes and then trek back, in the snow. I have fond memories of discovering unusual tapes to rent — and not so fond memories of 6 weeks working at a horrible video store. Arduous memories of having to buy scores of DVDs to replace the scores of VHS tapes I bought. Now I am left with a small pile of aging VHS tapes I need to digitize at some point.
5. Beepers: The prelude of the obnoxious cell phone era. A minister in Saratoga had one and seemed like the most pompous ass I had ever met when he had to cut short visiting my grandmother when it beeped right when he arrived at her hospital bedside. Maybe it was God?
6. Film cameras: While I am blown away by the thought of someday replacing my Nikon n8008 with a Nikon D700 or D3, I find this loss the second-most-painful. To really learn and internalize photographic principles, you had to keep track of how you took each photo, so that you could remember when you saw the developed result hours or days later. Moreover, I am still awed by the color, clarity, and tone of Kodachrome. Paul Simon will never sing a song about SD memory cards or ink jet printers. In addition, I loved the smell of the chemicals and the feel of the developing prints as they moved from tray to tray. Digital is so much cleaner, easier, and reliable, but film was magic.
7. Typewriters: This is the first-most-painful loss from this list. No, I do not lament the painful fingers I got from learning to type on a manual typewriter. However, I do miss the hum and warmth of my two Smith-Coronas. As with film photography, you had to know how to spell and had to know your grammar to get it right the first time on a typewriter. Moreover, seeing the pages of my first novel stack up on my desk was a better visceral measure of my progress than Microsoft Word’s status bar reporting some number of pages. Moreover, the freaking Internet wasn’t an omnipresent distraction from my writing. I had to budget my research time for library trips. Now, I go to look up one thing and find myself drawn into grazing through links into tangential topics.
8. The Walkman, Discman and MiniDisc player: I owned a knock-off called a Kasuga, from DAK Industries’ mail order catalog. It had AM/FM and cassette — and could record! It lasted until just a few days off warranty. I still prefer CDs to MP3s — because CDs do offer uncompressed sound quality and we’ve forgotten all about the quality of our music listening in our hectic, ever portable lives. I’d rather sit still in front of an audiophile component stereo system, really think about the lyrics, and feel the emotional contour of the melody, thank you.
9. Dial-up Internet access: Another thing I left behind almost a decade ago — and with no regrets. Well, broadband does offer that distraction of being “always on,” so you can always be sucked into the Web, instead of doing other things. Come to think of it, dial-up made you think about whether and when you went on and how long you stayed — or sometimes it forced you off, which might have been what you needed.
10. DVDs: See VHS tapes, above. Now that I have bought the entire James Bond library on VHS and then on DVD, I will now have to buy it yet again on Blu-ray — and in another 10 years, it will probably be available in Hi-Def via online streaming, anytime, anywhere, for a dollar or two per play.

To the list above, I would add:

• CRT displays, whether tube televisions or computer monitors
• Incandescent lighting
• Newspapers
• PDAs – as standalone devices without an integrated cell phone
• Paper checks
• Audio cassettes
• Snail mail, especially letters and greeting cards
• And quite probably Humans someday — maybe soon, if we don’t get our act together

I just hope books are never obsolete.

This year, I am fighting a much harder to stop adversary. Specifically, it is “Iowa” 319-447-5488, which I have traced back to a survey company.

On Wednesday 9/17, I received yet another call from these jerks. Finally, there was an actual person on the other end of the line. I immediately told her we are on the Do Not Call list. Her response was an equally immediate “We are a survey organization; we’re exempt from the Do Not Call list.” Nevertheless, I hung up and then submitted the complaint online.

Then I decided to dig deeper into the FTC.gov site and discovered this:

“Because of limitations in the jurisdiction of the FTC and FCC, calls from or on behalf of political organizations, charities, and telephone surveyors would still be permitted,”
(http://www.ftc.gov/bcp/edu/pubs/consumer/alerts/alt107.shtm)

She was right. Despite my asking them to take me off their list because I do not want to receive calls from them, the Do Not Call list lacks the tooth to stop them. The best I could hope for is that if they ignore my request to stop calling me, I could maybe file harassment charges. Of course, that would likely mean sending them a letter from a lawyer to document my original request – and who has the time or money to deal with that?

My phone number is unlisted, but random auto-dialers still get through. I am on the Do Not Call list, but it has exceptions to its jurisdiction. The system has to change.

First, we need to kill this notion that free speech for political candidates, survey organizations, or anyone else I don’t want to call me extends to my private phone number. Look, if I post a notice at the front of my property that says “no commercial, religious, political, or other soliciting” or maybe post a sign that says, more generally, “no trespassing,” then I am legally within my rights to file trespassing charges against anyone who walks past that sign to knock on my front door and interrupt my day. The same should extend to my phone. If I what I really want by being on the Do Not Call list is to limit my incoming phone calls to just friends, family, and *real* business relationships I have (i.e. my bank calling me not to offer me some new service, but to advise me of something quirky with my account), then I should have the right to do that and to prosecute anyone, anywhere who does not honor it.

Based on that, the second thing we need is a Do Not Call list with more options. Maybe some people like phone surveys. Let them opt in. I will opt out. Or maybe there are people who don’t mind receiving calls to support their political candidate. Fine, let them specify such. For me, I will actively seek out the politician I want to support.

Third, we need a rebuilt Caller ID system that cannot be spoofed to show just “Iowa” or “California” or other ambiguous Caller IDs. Really, Iowa is calling me? The entire state of Iowa is calling me? I didn’t know that many people could share one party line. No, it’s just useless information that makes a mockery of “caller identification.” And it ought to be criminalized as fraudulent representation.

Finally, we need a more technologically robust phone system supported by price-competitive phone companies. My phone service is through Verizon. Yes, they do offer a call-blocking service. However, it is limited to only a finite set of numbers and the price hardly seems worth it. Just like my Norton software lets me subscribe to an ever-growing list of blocked spammers, so too I want my phone company to offer a blocking service that takes the known phone numbers of solicitors who have been communally agreed-upon as offensive. Solicitors who auto-dial and hang-up. Solicitors who won’t take “no” as a deterring answer. And I want an easy to use phone method or Web interface to flag or enter-in numbers of callers I want blocked.

Can we get to work on this now? Before my phone rings again?

Original post:

As of last night, May 20, around 11:00 p.m., some asshole spammer out there has been sending out e-mails that have my domain in the from: line. These spam e-mails are not from me. Whoever is doing this is “e-mail spoofing” the from: line with a bogus address at my domain.

If I ever find out who they are, which I realize is a futile hope, I will file a libel/slander lawsuit against them, since sending spam spoofed with my domain is as damaging to me and my reputation as libel or slander would be.

I have asked my Web host to investigate, but I am not confident that anything will come of it. What the entire Internet really needs are much more strict requirements for how e-mail works and is validated.

Update:

During the last 36 hours, I have received over 250 e-mails that have bounced back into my Inbox. All of them have come back from automated systems — either from anti-spam programs or from undeliverable e-mails to expired accounts. I’ve weathered the storm by setting up my own automated rules to Trash the messages — and I hope I’m not inadvertently trashing any legitimate e-mails.

My Web host has been extremely helpful in making some changes to my mail server and they have recommended I check out the Sender Policy Framework (http://www.openspf.org/). They have also offered some reassurance that spammers typically use a spoofed domain for only a cycle or two of spamming and then move on.

When I shared my predicament with a friend, his response was the amusing “look on the bright side” suggestion that it might generate more traffic to my humble little site. I’m not a fan of the “even bad publicity is publicity” mindset. I want a bigger audience, but not this way.

I kept thinking that there had to be a long list of amazing, bizarre, horrifying, beautiful, or otherwise history-making news stories going on at the same time, but that were not receiving any coverage. We are at war in Iraq. Iran is rattling the nuclear saber. Mexico is probably still recovering from two recent hurricanes. Indonesia is probably still recovering from several strong earthquakes. Osama Bin Laden is still hiding out in Afganistan or Pakistan. Pakistan is grappling with winds of political change surrounding Pervez Musharrif and the possible return of Benazir Bhutto. Someone far more important than Britney or O.J., somewhere far more interesting than Hollywood or Las Vegas, is likely lost in a desert or on a mountain or escaping from a sexual predator or maybe finding a cure for some horrible disease.

All I saw, however, were screwed-up celebrities and the media frenzy that surrounds them. We must be fully recovered from 9/11, I guess, if this is what passes for the most important news of the day. Maybe al Qaeda is so weak that we no longer need to stop them. And maybe the Israelis and Palestinians are getting along well enough that we need not fear their sparking World War III. At the very least, the weather must be perfect everywhere around the entire planet, since they weren’t breaking away from Britney or O.J. to tell us about any tornados or typhoons. Who knows, maybe the polar ice caps are refreezing, as well, and global warming is behind us.

Of course, to the people starving around the world – and to the people fighting (literally, as in the terrorists) for “higher” moral values – Americans must seem damnably shallow if coverage of some drunk trashy pop star and some short-tempered, potentially homicidal ex-jock pulls enough viewer ratings to become the exclusive news story of the day. Forget all the people being killed by a war that our government (regardless of whether it was right or wrong) sanctioned – we’d rather watch a melodramatic reality soap opera.

As a parent of toddlers, I can confirm that the theory is verified that sometimes children will seek whatever attention they can get – positive or negative, good or bad. Sometimes, children will do something bad, knowing they will be punished, but knowing that it will get their parents’ attention. One of our sons had a run earlier this year with waking up in the middle of the night and crying for us. No amount of positive, gentle incentive to get him back to sleep, nor negative, punitive disincentive to coerce him back to sleep worked. Ultimately, we just had to let him “cry it out.” And after a mere three nights, the witching hours ended.

I think it is time that we ignore our celebrities’ crying, deprive them of the attention, and, further, let them sleep in the silence of their burned-out careers. Let’s pull the cameras out of the courtroom. Let’s stop buying the tabloids full of intrusive paparazzi-stolen images. Let’s stop buying the movie tickets, CDs, books, and other memorabilia by and about the celebrities. It is time for zero tolerance for celebrity screw-ups. Accused of pedophilia? Throw everything he ever recorded into the dumpster – and change stations when it comes on the radio! Wrapped her car around a fire hydrant? Don’t buy her DVD – and change channels when she comes on TV! Had dogs killing each other – or he himself might have killed someone?!? For crying out loud, burn his sports cards, don’t buy them; it’s blood money!

Yes, I realize what I am saying are prejudicial over-reactions that might hurt celebrities who get into “minor” problems or who, for whatever reason, are falsely accused. But I think such an approach would either force these people to stay in line like the rest of us – or would quickly shake out the wheat from the chaff. Either way, we as a nation would better spend our time on examining the social, political, religious, military, and legal crisis that truly matter – rather than be distracted from them by the celebrity circus.

Osama Bin Laden released a new video. Someone in the marketing department must have turned him on to the American ideal of  10 Years Younger, since he seems to have discovered both Just for Men and possibly a Braun beard trimmer. The folks in the marketing department need to study American advertising a bit closer, however, since the sales pitch missed the mark on all three appeals: Ethos, Logos, and Pathos. Killing innocent civilians at the World Trade Center – and threatening more violence against us – is hardly the way to persuade us to convert to Islam. (Hint, Osama: The reason why Jesus is so popular in the West is that he’s a gentle, forgiving, and nurturing figure – well, until you read the Gospel of John, but 3 out of 4 make him seem like a kind, nice guy to emulate.)

Frances Townsend, homeland security advisor to George Bush, has called Osama “impotent.” Yup, that’s right; our Executive branch has been reduced to merely insulting Bin Laden’s cock. Meanwhile, Bush has been inserting his Dick Cheney into clap-traps like Iraq and is growing ever more tumescent for Iran. But at least the feelings seem to be mutual, since Iran is on the way to having a long hard shooter for U.S.

Meanwhile, George himself has kept a notably low profile on the anniversary. If I were the President who was in office on September 11, 2001, I would not miss a single anniversary to attend memorial services in Manhattan, Shanksville, or at least at the Pentagon (you know, that building that was attacked and houses many of the same folks who are now trying to coordinate the War on Terror?) These days, though, I am inclined to think any of us – me, you, Giuliani, Hillary, or even fictional 24 Presidential actor Dennis Haysbert could do a better job as President.

What do the droids really do? Yes, yes, C3P0 is a “human cyborg relations” android. However, if the other droids had been built better, to speak in intelligible language, rather than bleeps and tweets, C3P0 would not be needed. Worse still, R2D2, while cute, seems to have few clearly defined functions. In episode 4, his primary role is to be a messenger for Princess Leia. However, in a galaxy where interstellar travel is commonplace, it seems archaic to send a message via a physical object, as opposed to sending it via some encrypted energy transmission. Okay, so maybe Obi-Won doesn’t have a phone. Even if I buy into that, R2D2 is hardly the most mobile, let alone agile, of the droids. In subsequent episodes, R2D2 hangs on as an X-wing fighter co-pilot, because in a galaxy with interstellar travel and droids, no one has thought to build into the fighter the logic that the droid possesses.

The only droids I can understand, that do have a justification for their existence, are the battle droids. It makes sense that an advance society would use robots to wage war, rather than risk actual living, sentient members of their own society, even more likely than risking clones. That is, of course, assuming that an “advanced” society would wage war at all.

The Death Star required an enormous expense of labor, materials, and energy to build and operate and expends an enormous amount of energy to obliterate an entire planet. Why? Even if it does make star systems cower before Emperor Palpatine, there is absolutely no return on the investment. If anything, it wastes perfectly habitable planets full of valuable resources, such as labor, food, raw materials, and the commercial infrastructure to make use of it all. Wouldn’t it be better to kill off just your opponents on the targeted planet and then take over use of whatever is left? The Empire’s approach would be like the Nazis completely wiping all of Poland, France, or England off the map, rather than merely beating the people into submission and then making use of them and their resources. Yes, I know, I know, the Death Star is supposed to be like the atomic bomb obliterating entire cities. Nevertheless, the parallel breaks down when you look at what it takes to build, move, and operate a Death Star compared to what it takes to build and deliver an atomic warhead.

The least useful Star Wars detail is the one it is best known for: the light saber. While the Imperial Storm Troopers and most of the Rebels are running around with blasters that can shoot an energy beam clear across the field of battle, the Jedi are walking around with weapons that have a limited range of what seems to be about three or four feet. Moreover, it requires a high amount of choreographed running, lunging, leaping, and swinging to use. A blaster is simple point-and-shoot. Call me lazy, but I’d rather kill my enemies at a distance and with as little strenuous effort as possible. The blaster is the logical weapon of choice.

If you don’t know Thomas, he is a train with a gray face on the front. When my nephew first took an interest in him many years ago, I couldn’t fathom how this was not in some way frightening. Here’s a face on the front of a machine. No arms, no legs, just a face. Beyond the eerie visage, I was also puzzled that they were somehow able to milk such a situation for plots. It’s not like the trains can pick things up; they have no hands. Nor can they freely roam; they are limited to only where the track can go. Nevertheless, with a few human figures around, they’ve managed to produce what seem to be hundreds of stories in books and videos — all of which make for a large world that the kids can buy into, quite literally. Once the kids are hooked by the book$ and video$, which feature $core$ of train$, they will likely want to buy the complete collection of toy$, clothe$, bed $heet$,curtain$, and other decoration$ and knick knack$.

Alright, yeah, I bought tons of Disney over the years — Disney pioneered this character merchandising. However, I find Thomas’s world depressingly familiar. It reminds me of corporate life. Much is made of Thomas being a “Really Useful Engine.” Every story is about work and getting the job done, with the constant fear of things going wrong or falling behind schedule. With that in mind, On the Track, There and Back is the most prototypical Thomas story, since it follows him from waking up to going to sleep.

There is an immediate sense of urgency in the story, since on the first page Thomas says “I’m on my way. I have so much to do today.” And it never stops until he gets back to his shed for sleep. Along the way, we follow him on his morning commute to the station, “a route I know well.” He hauls some passenger coaches then heads for the quarry, saying “NO time yet for fun!” Of course, there is never time for fun.

The only book in which I have ever read about Thomas going off and having some fun is one titled Thomas Breaks a Promise (originally published as Thomas Tells a Lie, but just as there could never be a Revenge of the Jedi, I guess Thomas is above ever telling a lie.) In that book, the temptation to go to a carnival gets the better of Thomas in the middle of a branch line signal-checking assignment — and results in a near-disaster. Sir Topham Hatt punishes Thomas by making him check the signals on the entire railway system. While Thomas did deserve to be disciplined, at no point does Sir Topham Hatt express wonder at why Thomas might have felt the need to take a freaking break.

But back to On the Track… At the quarry, Thomas helps two other engines. And then comes the most redundant sentence ever written: “The Troublesome Trucks give us all lots of trouble.” Maybe by this point, Thomas’ brain has gone onto auto-pilot? Does he get a much-needed break yet? No, having already hauled passengers and rocks, he now has to go make a freight run from high up in the mountains all the way down to the harbor. Those three tasks have consumed his entire day and all he gets at the end is a washing and put back in his shed — all the while smiling as though he has either sat through one too many corporate motivational presentations or swallowed a goodly dose of Prozac.

There were nights when I wanted to scream into the book: “Take a break, Thomas! Tell Sir Topham Hatt you’re sick of being his obedient little minion. Go play Frisbee, read a fun book, write a letter to a long-missed friend, take some photos of deer, find a girlfriend, or at least sit and enjoy watching the world go by somewhere! Stopping being so damned f***ing useful for everyone else!”

The best I could do was, on a few nights, persuade my older son to skip the Thomas book in favor of more fun-filled books like:

• Autumn Walk by Ann Burg, illustrated by Kelly Asbury
• When I Go To The Park by Jill Harker, illustrated by Jane Swift
• Micawber, by John Lithgow, illustrated by C. F. Payne
• Curious George Goes Fishing by H. A. Rey
• But Not the Hippopotamus by Sandra Boynton
• Dad Mine! and Mom Mine! by Dawn Apperley, Jane Kemp, and Clare Walters
• Scuffy the Tugboat by Gertrude Crampton (a Little Golden Book Classic)

Don’t get me wrong; I do want my kids to have a work ethic, but I don’t want them to become mindless corporate drones. I want them to know that family matters more than career — despite anything the corporate world may otherwise try to subtly enforce upon them. Even where a corporation does not encourage a workaholic mentality directly or even attempts to actively prevent it, the meritocracy structure of performance reviews and bonuses often compels managers to put their own career performance and advancement ahead of their employees’ familial and even physical health by driving their employees into overworked burnout. The employees who fall prey to this the most readily are the ones who have been indoctrinated with an excessively strong work ethic that is out of scale with any other ethos they may have. That’s where, I fear, too much Thomas (as with too much of anything), may be a bad influence.

Hey, boys, if you ever read this, spend time with your family and go have some fun.

Love,
Dad

To argue that the patterns we see when we look at the cosmos, the natural world, and our biological selves are reflective of an intelligent design is predicated on our own intelligence. So, in other words, this is a circular argument. The conclusion is drawn from itself. The most crucial feature of the argument to highlight is the word intelligent. The people who believe in intelligent design are capable of rational thought, faulted, but still rational.

Humans seek out pattern, even in places where there most likely would not be a logical, intentional pattern. Just because I can look at a cloud up in the sky and say that it looks to me like it is shaped like a cat face, does not mean that any intelligence made it that way. Nor does pointing at stars in the sky and saying, “those there look like a bear and that one looks like a fish.”

The classic example of human pattern seeking where there is no intelligence or intention is the inkblot test. Take a bottle of ink, splash some on a sheet of paper. Then ask someone to look at it and tell you what it looks like. People try to make sense of inkblots, comparing their shape, no matter how random and amorphous, to other objects.

Some might think to counter that even an inkblot has some intelligent design behind it, given that an intelligent human being is “designing” the inkblot by the process of splashing it. If you repeat the process, however, you will see that there are innumerable random variables that make it extremely difficult to make two inkblots that look alike. Others may reach beyond the appearance of the inkblot and argue that the fact that inks and papers are synthetic and evidence of intelligent design. So repeat the process with some mud thrown onto the surface of a rock. Just because someone can perceive a pattern, that doesn’t mean the pattern was intelligent or designed.

The folks who believe in intelligent design are looking at an inkblot and thinking that they are seeing a mirror. They project their own intelligence onto the cosmos and then congratulate themselves on finding “God.” Intelligent design is nothing more than egocentric human self-aggrandizement.

If I were to apply my intelligence to the cosmos I live in, I could actually think of ways of improving it – don’t include items in the design that would cause sentient beings to suffer. Don’t include genetic abnormalities that cause cancer or heart disease. What would be the point of including them when they are counter to the purpose of the organism that contains them – they take life away, rather than contribute to it. To my eyes, while the cosmos does have some laws of physics, chemistry, and biology, they come nowhere near reflecting an intelligent design. Anything but.

Maybe you’ve seen or have heard that a massive tsunami in the Indian Ocean has killed at least 100,000 of our fellow humans. More than a million survivors are suffering, at risk, and struggling. Men, women, children, Muslims, Christians, Jews, Hindus, Buddhists, Asians, Indians, Europeans, Africans, Americans, poor people, rich people, militants, pacifists, people like me, and, yes, people like you.

You’ve proven you can organize people. You’re a wealthy man who’s proven he can raise money. You’ve proven you can get the job done. Ah, but there’s the rub; you’re only good at destroying things, no better than the tsunami itself, although your “accomplishments” pale in comparison. Tell me, Osama, and tell the world, or better still, show us: What are you going to do for those who’ve died and those who are now struggling to survive? What about their jihad, their struggle* – not against Westerners, Christians, or other “infidels,” but their jihad to bury the dead, to eat, to heal, to rebuild? Where is your base, now, with its army of the supposedly righteous? Can you not mobilize them to do something good for these people?

Maybe, Osama, this tragedy to all humanity will get the attention of the people who follow you. Maybe they will stop looking at their fellow humans through your veil of religious zealotry. Maybe they will see the common suffering of all peoples of all walks of life in the areas hit by the tsunami. Maybe they will see governments and corporations and people of all religions, of all economic classes, and of all political beliefs contributing and volunteering to the relief effort. Maybe they will see that by working together as humans we can do far more good than the petty little acts of violence and destruction you’ve wrought.

Over the last seven days since the tsunami first struck, you’ve been notably quiet. Consider this: Even Yassar Arafat, a man who many consider to be more a terrorist in your vein than a “freedom fighter,” immediately spoke out against the tragedy, injustice, and amorality of September 11. Even Saddam Hussein at least had something to say immediately after September 11, though he didn’t condemn the act nor express sympathy for the victims. Your silence and inaction are speaking louder than anything you’ve ever said or done. It’s telling the world you are not interested in helping those who are truly suffering. You really don’t care.

Meanwhile, the entire rest of the world is pulling together to help the victims of this disaster.

What are you going to do, Osama? Go back and crawl under your rock and stay there.

The Challenger Disaster was such a shock to many of my generation because we had become so accustomed to the seeming reliability and safety of space travel. So many other shuttle launches had happened that they seemed commonplace and no longer newsworthy. Indeed, the most noteworthy aspect of the Challenger launch at the start of the news day had seemed to be the presence of the “first teacher in space.” Space travel had reached that point that we were no longer talking about the first man, first woman, first African-American, or the long list of other firsts that had happened. At least for the first woman and the first African-American, cultural barriers had to be crossed before the space barrier could be crossed. While a first teacher in space is culturally significant, it did send the message that space travel was now common enough that even someone as familiar as a school teacher could go there. Many felt that it was more a public-relations gesture, to renew public interest in space flight because it had become so commonplace as to no longer warrant attention without devising yet another human-interest first.

After the Challenger Disaster, however, we all had been shocked enough at seeing it explode that, even with safety improvements, you couldn’t watch another shuttle launch or any shuttle news without thinking that something could go wrong again someday. In that light, the breakup of Columbia on re-entry seems less surprising and more expected — overdue, in fact. Indeed, given that the Challenger accident happened on lift-off, the break-up of Columbia on re-entry seems to complete part of some strange equation. It seems like an extended Murphy’s Law: Not only will something go wrong if it can go wrong, but the universe must generate tangible examples of each possible thing that can go wrong.

Sadly, the Columbia Disaster also does not seem to fit our post-9/11 expanded definitions of disaster and tragedy. We have seen thousands of humans die who did not know that they were taking any risk by boarding a plane or going to work. In that light, the deaths of seven people who knew that space flight was risky but were brave enough to pursue it seems existentially more understandable. Sad, but not a large-scale disaster.

That said, I am dedicating this week’s writing to the seven men and women who died aboard Columbia.

Where do you come from?*

I am from Saratoga Springs, New York, going back at least four generations. While I am currently living away from there, I would love to return there someday. I only left because there weren’t enough career opportunities there involving writing or editing — and, at the time, I needed to make sure I could earn enough money to pay off my college loans and establish myself.

How much is your life worth?*

Well, hm, to me it’s priceless, of course. However, I can imagine several other formulas for answering this question. For example, you could compute the cost of my ideal life, the life I would choose to lead, versus the life I actually am leading. In that equation, my ideal life would be to write novels and get them published, but I have not yet done that because of both debt and the need to build up enough money to ensure my family can live comfortably when I do take the plunge and risk not having an income for a while during the time I am writing. So figure my current annual income multiplied by however many years I earn it, minus my debts, plus my assets. That is tens of thousands, or maybe even a few hundred thousand dollars. Or you could just look at what I would want/need to live my ideal life starting tomorrow — i.e., assuming a fiction publishing house were to offer me a contract to complete my novel and write my next novel, etc., as if it were an annual salary. That would eliminate considerations of debt and assets, since I could handle those from the continued income. So that would just mean I need a fiction publisher to match my current salary. Unfortunately, not something they would likely do for a first-time novelist; even many well-established novelist don’t get long-term contracts or earn what I am currently earning as a corporate Web-site geek.

What are your ten favorite fiction novels?

Well, this list is far too short — I love a lot of novels, so this was a hard question to answer and limit to just ten. Also, with the exception of the first five, this list isn’t really in ranked order.

1. Sleep Till Noon by Mac Schulman
2. Fool on the Hill by Matt Ruff
3. Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov
4. Candide by Voltaire
5. Most of the James Bond novels by Ian Fleming
6. 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne
7. Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson
8. The Time Machine by H. G. Wells
9. The Lord of the Flies by William Golding
10. Alice In Wonderland/Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll

How did you and Lila meet?

We met online, at a time when that was something unique. In 1995, we were members of AOL at the time (as Web professionals, we’ve since outgrown it.) Lila saw in my Profile that I lived in Saratoga Springs, New York and had attended Skidmore College. She wondered if I knew a particular professor and, as it turns out, I had worked for a professor next to his office. We corresponded via e-mail, then Instant Messaging. After a couple of months, Lila headed off for a vacation, saying she would write me when she got back. I didn’t hear from her until a year later, but we quickly picked up our rapport, soon moving it to telephone, as well as Internet. She invited me to Brooklyn for her New Year’s Eve party. When I found a job partway between Saratoga and the City, she moved north and I moved south, getting an apartment together. Finances were tough early on, but we were finally able to have a wonderful wedding this year.

Don’t you feel bad making fun of that First Night belly dancer?

Do I respect her for putting herself out there and trying to entertain people? Of course; I know how risky that can be and how painful it is when you fail. However, she did put herself out there knowing those risks. When my turn comes, I know there may be some critics who may skewer me and my writing. Heck, for all I know…

*Questions from my nephew, Joseph Wagner. Thank you, Joe.

The more interesting aspect of this is that I knew I had mono even before the doctor confirmed the diagnosis. I had come back from a business trip and been home for a few days, when I developed a roller-coaster fever – cycling up and down over the course of less than an hour. I also had night sweats and chills. Then nausea hit me.

The profound symptom that made me know it was mono, however, was that I started to feel irresistibly tired and sleepy. No sooner was I up and showered, when I felt like I needed a nap. After work, that’s what I would come home and do without even caring about dinner. I had never experienced anything like it before, but I had heard that mono makes you incredibly tired.

When I phoned my insurance company’s nurse line to check my symptoms, the nurse didn’t believe I could have mono. She actually got rather rude about it, telling me I was wasting her time and would be wasting my doctor’s time if I went to him for what she thought was just a fleeting virus. That night, I couldn’t hold down any food at all. I went to my doctor the next morning.

A urine test showed that my liver was out-of-whack in a way that was consistent with mono. The blood test would take several days to come back, but the doctor immediately ordered me to take a medical leave from work and stay in bed. I’m actually staying on the couch, dozing in and out of television shows that I can’t follow for even half an episode. I’m having a hard time holding down Pedialyte and Boost. In addition, I will admit, I am so tired that my mood is irritable. Recovery, I’m told, may take about six weeks. So much for Thanksgiving.

A lot has happened in a year’s time. We bombed Al Qaeda and the Taliban out of power in Afghanistan many, many months ago. By earlier this year, our economy looked like it was recovering and adjusting to the new circumstances, but then we encountered enemies among ourselves in our corporations and we are only now recovering from that self-inflicted damage. The recovery and clean-up efforts at the World Trade Center (I refuse to call it “Ground Zero”) were finished a few months ago and there is now talk about what to do with the land.

As the last few days tick down to 9/11/2002, I have been dwelling on two thoughts:

Based on a long human history of dumb people doing dumb things, I am certain that someone, somewhere will do something dumb on this first anniversary of the attacks. Whether at the direction of Al Qaeda or simply someone acting on their own, a la the July 4 LAX shootings, we stand a decent chance of having our day of commemorating the loss of our loved ones interrupted by some new act of violence. For the last month or two, the mood around New York has had an undercurrent of resigned anxiety, that 9/11/2002 will be at least in some way an echo of 9/11/2001. Even friends and co-workers who have not openly talked about it seem unusually uptight, often displaying it by focusing their anxiety or anger on other, smaller issues in life.

Within days of 9/11/2001, I heard someone, somewhere say that 9/11 should become a national holiday. I was immediately struck by the fact that it seemed too soon to be contemplating that. While I knew it was motivated by the power of the emotions after 9/11, the desire to ensure that the day would never be forgotten, suggesting a national holiday for it brought some sense that such a move might only wind up serving the wrong purposes. Consider Memorial Day, which was made a national holiday to remember the men and women who fought and died in the service of our country. Ask a few hundred people in the street what Memorial Day means to them and you will likely get a decent percentage answering that it means the start of summer and a weekend at the beach. Others might even answer Memorial Day Sales, where you can buy all manner of items at a discount. A few, though rarer as the years pass, will say that it means parades. Somehow, what started out as a day to go to your husband’s, brother’s, father’s, mother’s, daughter’s, son’s, or other relative’s grave in honor of their dying in military service has become something else. The somber parade to the cemetery or war memorial in the park has slowly given way to more festive parades with antique cars, clowns, and street vendors selling balloons and candy. The drive to the cemetery has taken a left turn and headed for the beach or the mall. For as much as I believe we should all take 9/11/2002 as a national holiday to go to memorial services to mark the first anniversary, I would be fearful of making it a permanent national holiday that might become commercialized and exploited by the time the 100th anniversary arrives.

No matter what happens this coming September 11, I encourage everyone, everywhere to observe it with both caution and solemnity.

On the last day of our stay, I had some Canadian money left over, which I wanted to use up before heading home. I decided to go down to the hotel restaurant for breakfast and to spend my last Canadian $20 bill.

Even in the morning, the restaurant had a maitre d’ and the tables were spread with fine white linen and genuine silverware. The maitre d’ seated me at a table and handed me the leather-bound menu. When she left, I flipped it open and skimmed the prices on the heavy cotton paper. A fancy egg dish with Peameal bacon, homo milk, and something called brown bread (is it whole wheat or pumpernickel?), about $25. Swap out the eggs with pancakes or French toast or other choices and the price was still over $20. I began to worry that I would have to excuse myself from eating there for lack of funds.

Then I spotted the one item that was under $20. It was something called Weetabix, for $17, leaving just barely enough for a tip and completely spending my Canadian bacon. The only thing I didn’t know was what Weetabix was. For $17, I imagined it must be something substantial. My mind immediately leapt to a vision of a beefy, rugged, Canadian hockey player, fresh off the ice, hunkered down over a bowl of hot, steaming Weetabix. Like Wheatina, but not girlie. Like Cream of Wheat, but not creamy, more gritty and full of fiber.

The waiter, Dapper Dan, approached, a white linen towel draped over his arm a carafe of water in his hand. When he spoke, it was with a British accent, rather than a Canadian one. “Good morning, sir.” Using the towel to prevent the carafe from dibbling, he poured water into my glass, then stood at attention. “May I take your order, sir?”

With my taste buds eagerly awaiting a steaming hot bowl of wheat grains, I said “I’ll have the Weetabix, thank you.” To which he responded “Very good, sir,” making me feel pride in my choice. “Will there be anything else, sir?” I thought of saying “Of course not, a hot bowl of Weetabix will do just fine,” but instead I just said “No, thank you.”

I thought it would take about ten minutes, maybe more, to heat it up. I was very surprised when, a couple of minutes later Dapper Dan returned carrying a fine china bowl in a hand elevated level to his ears and a carafe in his other hand.

He stopped at my table and said “Your Weetabix, sir,” and set the bowl in front of me.

In the middle of an eight inch diameter bowl was a single three-by-six inch log of shredded wheat. It didn’t even have a frosted side.

I wanted to say “Is this it?” or “Where are the others?” or “What happened to the frosted side?” Instead I said “Thank you.”

“Would you like milk on that, sir?”

I wanted to say “Oh, no, I like dry, absorbant cereal that soaks up my excess saliva” or “Of course, you idiot!” Instead I said “Yes, please.”

He again poured using the towel to prevent spilling the milk from the carafe, then asked “Will there be anything else, sir?”

I wanted to say “Um, the other Weetabixes?” Instead I said “No, thank you.”

Dapper Dan walked away.

My Weetabix was good, but it wasn’t a hot bowl of wheat for a hungry hockey player. Nor was a single Weetabix a filling meal. Nor was it worth $17, not even $17 Canadian dollars.

I’ve experienced this before and I am certain others have as well. You get accustomed to living in a house, driving the same commute daily, working in an office, shopping at the same mall every weekend, walking the dog three times a day (usually the same route), speaking with the same people about the same things, and so on. Then you go off for a week’s vacation to someplace you’ve never been, see beautiful sights, hear cool local music, smell flowers you’ve never encountered before, eat exotic local foods, do things like SCUBA dive or snorkel, maybe you even take in shows or amusement rides that aren’t like anything in your home town. It’s all fresh, new, and exciting. Then you come home and immediately drop right back into the mundane life you were living. Within a matter of hours or maybe a day, you find it hard to remember what you saw, heard, smelled, tasted, and did.

Yet, even though the sensory memories now seem like vague recollections from a dream, I am still remembering enough of something to now be painfully aware of being discontent with being back. While my post-wedding cluttered living room, clunky car, and corporate office are now more vivid to me, I feel disappointed about being in them, rather than in St. Lucia. What I am remembering, independent of any sight, sound, smell, or taste, is that a little over a week ago I felt both relaxed and enthusiastic. Relaxed at being with my wife and in charge of my day. Enthusiastic about being with my wife and out in the daylight, active, taking pictures, and free of the drudgery of e-mails, phone calls, housekeeping, and other responsibilities in life. Now, I am back and being daily reminded of all the reasons why I was looking forward to my honeymoon.

I suppose what I am saying is: “I need a vacation.”