It really is the people

We just returned from the Outer Banks of North Carolina on a trip that involved vacationing and visiting both friends and family along the way. We stopped in Washington, D.C. (friends) on the way to, and Cary, North Carolina (family) on the way out- with stops at Young's Jersey Dairy both directions. We spent most of our time, however, in the cities of Kitty Hawk, Kill Devil Hills, and Nags Head- and despite all the things to see and do there, I'm declaring it's the people that make it special.

A few examples. We had car trouble. The nice people at The Front Porch Cafe gave us a phone book and recommendations of local repair shops. (and darn good coffee, too) We called ABC Towing, who was willing, just on the strength of our phone call, to call in rush parts orders to the mainland before we had even brought the car in to them. It was a major repair- six hours labor, by the book- and it had to be done twice, because the first time it broke again on the test drive and they had to repeat the work with replacement parts. So again they paid for rush shipment of new parts- got the first batch approved for warranty, no extra charge to us- and got it all finished before we were due to leave... and the final bill was, according to my brother, the mechanic, not only fair but less than many places here in Indianapolis would have charged.

One restaurant we went to, Owen's, was so superb that even though we normally never repeat a restaurant while on vacation, looking for new experiences, we knew we'd have to go back there before leaving, and we told them so. They said it was their pleasure, and they'd watch for us. Well, any decent businessman would say that, right? But they must have meant it... when we were there the first time, I had asked to swap chairs; because of some back and hip issues, I cannot sit in some armchairs. When we returned a few nights later, and the hostess led us to our table, there was my chair, waiting for me!

Lots of other experiences... chats with people as I flew a kite in Ocracoke while Ginger was admiring the wild ponies... a discussion of the scandalous Washington infighting surrounding the Smithsonian, Professor Langley, and the Wright brothers with chatty and knowledgeable rangers at the Wright Memorial... nice ladies at Enterprise Car Rental pulling out three different cars before finding one that we and our stuff could fit in, and being helpful and cheerful the whole time. Thank you, OBX!

The false intimacy of church

Anyone even the slightest bit outgoing makes friends quickly at church. After all, you're self selected to be compatible; you believe the same things, or nearly enough. You're there for the same reasons and purposes- that produces an infectious camaraderie, an intimacy.


But it's a false intimacy. You have no idea how huge are the differences that can be masked over by a common ideology or a covenant, how little of the real person is conveyed by a religious identity until there's some decision, some committee vote that makes you say, "That isn't the man I know. That isn't the woman I know. Who are these people who have been so large a part of my life for so many years?" And then you have to decide whether it's possible to fellowship with the real people in the room, rather than the illusions you had been fellowshipping with.


I hope you have no idea what I'm talking about. I hope you never do.

My watching the President’s speech was interrupted...

…by someone at the door. I answered the door prepared to unleash a curmudgeonly blast at whoever it was, and had my guns spiked when I opened the door- it was uniformed boy scouts collecting canned goods for the poor. If you've ever wondered why I talk about my neighborhood so much, that's an example... Norman Rockwell's ghost lives here. And hey, I can always get the speech online.

Why it is so hard to lose weight

That is the title of an Alternet article by one of my favorite bloggers, Greta Christina. It reminded me of how I explain the difficulty of losing weight to those fortunate few who don't understand.

Have you ever smoked? Did you smoke for a number of years, then quit? If not, run this past one of your friends who did. Imagine cutting down... but never completely quitting. You're not allowed to cold turkey. You have to smoke five cigarettes a day: morning, noon, and night, with two unscheduled "snack" smokes. Never less- five smokes. But never more, either; if you cheat, have too many, you can't make up for it by skipping one the next day- it's not that easy. No, for every one you cheat with, you have to spend a week smoking the same five smokes, but half length cigarettes- just a couple puffs, not enough for satisfaction, then put it out. No matter how much you want one more toke, put it out, try to hold out 'til the next smoke... which will also be too short, until you've worked off that extra one you had.

If you're not a former smoker, ask one- there are tens of millions of us; statistically, I know you know one. Could you do it? Spend the rest of your life smoking five cigarettes a day, never more, never less?

That's what it's like losing weight.

The Fourth Law of Thermodynamics

Not even the Jaws of Life can hold open a bag you're trying to get something awkward into; not even duct tape can hold closed a bag into which something horrible and messy has been put.

Discovered by Sir Isaac Newton on trash day as he heard the cart approaching.

Sign of Spring

Although this video is from NC, it sure reminds me of Spring and Summer in Indiana. (Caution- audio protion NSFW)



Ginj and I could have shot this video ourselves a few years ago, if we'd had the technology on us...

CUUmbaya commits blasphemy- again

I committed blasphemy once before, and managed to dodge the lightning. That experience gives me the courage to confess to this one, even though it is a deeper, and to many, more offensive blasphemy.

Today is a serious religious ritual for the devotees of Equus like my beloved- The Kentucky Derby. I was never a horse person before meeting Ginger; I have since learned that the animal hierarchy goes cats, people, horses. For that, and other family tradition reasons, the Kentucky Derby is a ritual at our house, one I've come to enjoy very much. I love the food- last year we had burgoo; this year hot browns. I love examining and selecting horse for the family betting. I love the hats and outfits. (I almost picked the winner on the basis of the jockey's silks looking like the Star Trek logo.) I love almost everything about the Derby.

There's just one dark cloud in this glorious sky: the Mint Julep. I cannot abide Bourbon. To finish a Julep would require from me a greater control of the gag reflex than that demonstrated by Linda Lovelace. So throughout the festivities I consumed Martinis. Wait, I tell a lie- some of them were Gibsons. I confess it! When the trumpet sounded "To The Post", I saluted with a Martini!

I'm sure most UUs will forgive me; we're good with blasphemy. But I'm not a fool- I'll give it a month or two before entering a Kentucky congregation.

The stalker is back

In September of last year, I wrote about a reader with an excessive, possibly unhealthy interest in me. Once again I have had the dubious pleasure of this person's attentions: first with the reader's own blog post discussing the contents of my pants, and boasting about lighting a fire therein; then a, shall we say, off topic comment submitted to this blog concerning my lips that I declined to publish.

I really don't know how I can make it any clearer to this person that I am not interested in a relationship. Perhaps it is hopeless; I know that in this blogger's home town another poor unfortunate was forced to seek a restraining order, and the court was concerned enough to grant it. Sheer distance makes it unlikely that I will need to do the same- but given this individual's numerous and bizarre obsessions, one never knows. I hope- not just for my sake, or even the sakes of the others this reader has pursued so relentlessly, but for the reader's own sake- that the reader will seek the help so desperately needed, and rejoin polite society. I would welcome the reader back, should it ever happen.
　

An important milestone for a Pagan blogger

is this, my 666th post! I mean, people keep telling me I'm a Devil worshipper, after all. So I thought this post should be about Satan. The problem is, I don't know much about him- he is a Christian deity, not a Wiccan one. So I thought I'd tell the story of the Devil and Dan McGee- I hope you like it as much as I did when it was told to me back in 1968.

There are two things you have to remember about Dan McGee... the first is that he was prematurely bald, and sensitive about it. The second is that he was a bad man. So when Dan died, he went to Hell.

Dan was met at the gates of Hell by the Devil himself. "Welcome to Hell, Mr. McGee," Satan said. "Are you ready to choose your fate?"

"I have choices?" Dan asked.

"Certainly," Satan replied. "You're going to be spending eternity here; we want to see you properly settled."

"So what are my options?"

Satan snapped his fingers, and Dan found that they were now standing in a vast field of broken glass- and all about him he could see people standing on their heads in the broken glass. "How about this one?" Satan asked.

Dan looked at the tortured souls around him standing on their heads, felt his own bald head, and coldly replied "I think not."

Satan snapped his fingers again, and they were at a vast parking lot. The asphalt was molten, fuming... and there were the damned, standing on their heads!

Dan turned on Satan, screaming at him in anger. "These aren't proper punishments! You're just making fun of my bald head- admit it!"

Satan laughed so hard it took him two tries to snap his fingers again. This time they materialized in a lake of steaming, runny, disgusting doody. A pig who had consumed only curries for a month before getting dysentery would be shocked by horrible this lake was... and the damned were standing waist-deep in it, holding cups and saucers, drinking coffee! "Is this more what you were expecting?" Satan asked.

Dan considered for a moment. The lake was disgusting, but then, this was Hell... and he did like a good cup of coffee. And nobody was making bald jokes. "I'll take it," he answered.

Satan disappeared, and Dan found himself in the lake, holding the cup and saucer. Juan Valdez's donkey came and poured him a cup of fine Columbian. But before he could raise it to his lips, a huge demon with sergeant's stripes on his arms and a massive whip came through shouting, "All right! Coffee break's over- back on your heads!"

A philosophical question...

inspired by the morning commute. Everyone in the northeast knows what this morning's drive to work was like- as we used to say when we were kids, H. R. Muck&stuff. 99% of the commuters were being careful and responsible, but in a city of a million people, 1% is a lot of troublemakers.

Driving my beloved to work, on the way up we- and almost everybody else- were doing about 30 in a 45, which was right at the limit of sanity... but zooming along in the left lane was a Lexus SUV, doing at least 50, spraying the rest of us with brown, salty slush. Now, I'm not a road-rage kind of guy, but I genuinely regretted that I was too busy driving and using the windshield washer to spare a hand flipping the bird. Then, on the way home, the same thing happened again, with the perpetrator being a Cadillac Escalade. But coming up to a stop light, the Escalade slid in the intersection and brushed another vehicle that was stopped in the intersection patiently waiting for his chance to turn left... this other vehicle was a snow plow, and the blade opened up the side of the Escalade the length of the vehicle.

Nobody was hurt; the airbags of the Escalade didn't even go off- the only result was many thousands of dollars of damage done to the Escalade. (no damage was done to the plow blade) I laughed like a maniac. But then I was ashamed of my laughter. Which made me wonder...

Is it schadenfreude if the other whose misfortune you're enjoying is a dick? I mean, after all, one could argue that what he suffered was not misfortune, but well-earned consequences. Is it OK to enjoy brutal karma, or is the enjoyment unworthy irrespective of the cause of his suffering?

A further thought is that this question is related to another one: is a snarky comment still snarky if it's true? I've never resolved that one, either.

Why I attend church

"Why do you attend church? If you don't go, why not?" These were questions asked by Jacqueline at MoxieLife ; she was expanding the audience for these queries from her daughter Paige , who asked them in a letter to her hometown congregation.

I don't have perfect attendance by any means. I miss many summer services, especially Labor Day; how many times can one listen to the local head of the AFL-CIO? I frequently miss guest sermons as well, especially "special musical guests"; how many times can one listen to an overage hippy who sounds like Raffi performing songs written by Al Gore? And sometimes I just need that Sunday morning as a mental health day. (OK, I was up too late Saturday night- stop smirking) But I make around thirty Sundays a year, plus special events, such as graduation parties, going aways, holidays- the only Christmas Eve we've missed was when our plane was snowed in at O'Hare. Plus I facilitate a small group, belong to a service club, and a CUUPs group at another congregation; I spend a fair amount of time at church. Why?

I'll begin with a double negative; what things that deter others fail to deter me? Jacqueline started drifting away while she was caring for her dad, and I can understand that one quite well; sometimes the concern of others can be overwhelming, as I learned when my father in law died . But I had the opposite emotional reaction- as long as people are still talking about him, he's still there.

Neither am I deterred by Paige's complaint: "As UUs it isn't our belief in a god that brings us together, it's a belief in peace and understanding. I don't feel that overwhelming peace when I walk into the doors of our church on Sunday afternoons, and I wish I did." I don't enjoy the battles within our church- regular readers have heard me on the subject repeatedly- but it doesn't keep me away. Why? Maybe it's my advanced age, maybe it's my years in politics, but I never expected anything different. People have opinions, and I expect them to argue about them; a lack of arguing demonstrates only a lack of passion. "Overwhelming peace" is for retreats and contemplative orders of monks and nuns.

Now for the active voice reasons. First, I go because I'm a social creature, and I enjoy the company of others. It's the largest organization I'm interested in joining wherein I'm certain of my welcome. Closely related to this reason is comfort and nostalgia; I was married there, and that wedding was perhaps the last public event my mother was functional enough to attend. People there remember my father in law, and ask about my mother in law, who while alive and well is 3/4 a continent away.

I go because I learn a lot. Not just from Rev. Clear's excellent presentations, but also from coffee hours and general discussions. Where else can I go to have a discussion with hundreds of people who disagree with me? And I'm completely serious- one learns nothing if one only keeps company with those one agrees with- after all, you already know what they think.

I go because I'm "modeling", or what we used to call "living your faith" back in the days before everyone spoke like a humorless philosophy undergrad. If anyone at my congregation is going to say "There are no good reasons to vote against Obama, just one bad one" or "The division isn't between atheist and theist, it's between rational and irrational" or "conservatives aren't capable of rational thought; at best, they can memorize a few facts and parrot them back", they'll have to do it while looking at me- and after 14 years at that congregation, I don't think they can anymore. It's important to see the human face of those one despises; the contrast with the preconceptions usually reveal the stereotypes for what they are. And it's important for me to see the human faces of liberals and atheists, too.

I go to be part of change. All Souls has evolved a lot over the years, and I've been part of that- and I'd like to be part of it in the future as well.

By nerds, for nerds, about nerds redux

I wrote before about Ginger's Sims 3 , but lately she's been doing something called "The Apocalypse Challenge". For those of you who are not Simmers (which includes me), it has to do with imposed obstacles and multi-generational accomplishments. Ginger has started blogging the story of this Sim family, complete with illustrations, and even as a non-Simmer I'm finding it fascinating- especially as some chapters are told from the Grim Reaper's point of view! Check out Varland Story .

If you don't mist up at this,

there's something missing in you.

Note- my posts are going to be erratic for a while; dontcha hate when real life intrudes into important things like blogging and surfing? Seriously, it's a good thing; details at a later date.

Invention needed

A light for desk drawers that comes on automatically, like the one in the refrigerator. If there were such a thing, never again would someone fumbling around in the drawer for a Vicks Inhaler use a AA battery by mistake.

*Double sigh*

I've spent the last few hours working on the computer. Well, to be more accurate, I was watching while a Microsoft tech did the actual work via shared desktop. But hey, I had to click "ok" several times, so it was a joint effort! But that's not exactly what I was sighing about.

This started a couple days ago, with me trying to get a glitch fixed using the help chat. Within a few minutes, the tech said he's have to bounce this one up to the advanced help, so he connected me to the next level of experts. A half hour later the advanced tech admitted defeat, and said he'd take a copy of all my settings and they'd have a team try to duplicate the problem and figure out a fix: they'd call me in a couple more days with a solution.

Sure enough, I got the call today. True to their word, they'd done the research and had a fix for me- the tech kept me on the phone while working on the computer, confirming symptoms and such as she did her thing. I've got to say, every tech involved was cheerful and polite, and the job was done in good time- at no charge.
But the fix involved a number of reboots, and we chatted a bit while waiting. The subject turned to the hardware I was using, and the good buy I'd gotten for the price. I said, "Yeah, that's less than I paid for my Commodore 64!" She, after a moment's hesitation, said, "Is that a car?" I said, "No, that was my first computer, back in '83" She laughed, and said, "Oh! I wasn't born yet."

Sigh. Double sigh. I can understand a regular kid not knowing the mighty 64, but this was one of the bulging forehead geeks that the lesser techs deferred to... I'm not sure why this feels worse than knowing that the President of the United States is younger than I am, but it does.

My kingdom for a spider

Many people dislike spiders, or worse- as this T-shirt says , "We have nothing to fear but fear itself... and spiders". But there's a couple flies in the house, and the cats are on the hunt- a combined total of more than forty pounds of ferocious carnivore are stalking, climbing, and leaping in the pursuit. Not all the bric-a-brac on all the shelves in all of Christendom will deter them from their self-appointed duty. *sigh*

Charlotte, where are you when I need you?

Some reflections on blogging

I don't do this to get rich; it doesn't pay. I don't do this to be famous. Oh, it's nice to get recognition, but I don't load every post full of searchbot tags, and spamlink myself through comments, relevant or not, on every blog, forum, website, newspaper, and social networking site on Earth like some bloggers do to get attention.

That being the case, I take pride in the readership I do have. I get a hundred and some odd hits a day during slow seasons like right now, a couple hundred during elections or other periods of interest. I have readers in a dozen countries, not just North America and Europe, but even India and Australia. Some check in every day, and it's gratifying to have such devoted readers. On the other hand, some are just a little too devoted.

I have one reader who doesn't just read about me, but writes about me as well, 14 posts, three just in the last four days- my name is a tag on the reader's own blog. Today, on my birthday, the reader checked in 27 times! And all the searches- a couple dozen searches of my name just today. This goes beyond mere fandom; I'm beginning to suspect this fan has a crush on me. Sure, sure, most of the searches are for things like "Joel Monka + flack", or "Joel Monka + asshole", but that's how the immature and socially inept flirt- watch any group of tweeners.

I can't pretend it's not flattering, but I want to state for the record that I am very happily married, and not looking for anything on the side.

I'm also resuming moderation.

By nerds, for nerds, about nerds

The scene: the first cup of coffee this morning; I was reading email, my beloved was playing Sims 3. "Uh oh," she says.

"What?"

"There's a ghost in the house."

From the music coming from her computer, I realized she was speaking of the Sims game. "They have ghosts in Sims 3?" I asked.

"Yes," she answered, "They're black and white and shimmery."

"What's it doing," I asked, intrigued. I haven't played Sims, but I am a fan of ghost stories; I was imagining tales of virtual vengeance, or simulated, unrequited love.

"She's playing on the computer."

Preparing for GA

Since the family reunion broke up, we've been preparing for GA by restoring and freshening the spirit- traveling to Salt Lake via Yellowstone Park. (which is why I'm so behind on news and commentary, as evidenced by my previous post) (Yellowstone pictures later) Just have time for a quick note while sitting in the hotel having coffee. I've noticed that some of the fumes spewing from geysers and fumaroles not only smell bad, they leave mineral deposits on metal surfaces, such as jewelry... my mother would have found it only fitting that my flaming chalice and pentacle are encrusted with brimstone.

Chattering like magpies

Though I understood the phrase intellectually, I've never gotten the impact of that old saw before- we don't have magpies in Indianapolis. I've seen magpies before, but only from the window of a train- I never heard them. Where we're staying here in Utah, however, they have them by the flock.

If you've never heard a magpie, they sound a lot like their cousins, the crow; but crows are no more talkative than other birds- magpies talk like teenagers with unlimited friends and family plans. Imagine Unitarian crows in an unmoderated open debate, fueled by fair-trade espresso. Two magpies make more noise than a murder of crows.

One such raucous caucus right outside the window gave me a lesson in the universality of life experience. There were two magpies, one slightly larger than the other... the smaller one would run in front of the larger one, tilt his head back, and open his beak wide. The larger one would make a cutting remark, turn, and walk the other way. The smaller one would gave a shriek of outrage, and run around to stand in front of the larger again... rinse and repeat. Is their a parent alive who doesn't empathize with the beleaguered magpie?