Murphy’s Bye-Laws

Prelude: For anyone not following the adventures of this author away from this blog (read: all of my adventures lately), the Imperial PintofStout, a.k.a. my wife, a.k.a. A___ , and I are eagerly anticipating the birth of our first Half-PintofStout (or does ponybottleofstout work better? PintofNA?) Currently, we are about 30 weeks in and have half of our house disassembled and painted in anticipation of carpeting and a possible temporary first floor bedroom. Such are the joys of “nesting.” I convey this simply as background for what I’m about to talk about next.

This weekend, after what seemed like weeks of rain, we finally made it outside to tend to the yard. More specifically, we were removing grass and weeds that had invaded our landscaping on the front and sides of the house. The mulch – what was left of it – is two years old and essentially dirt now, thus reversing its role from preventer to enabler. After we cleaned up the beds, A__ set to trimming and shaping the bushes. The junipers we put in two years ago have grown faster than expected and the boxwoods are growing at a rate I wouldn’t expect. Looking at all this growth, especially of the boxwoods, got me to thinking about time and patience. And roots.

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It was a dark and stormy night, or perhaps a bright and sunny day, and I was contemplating updating my Facebook status with a phrase that had popped into my head. As the phrase developed, it grew longer and more complete until I realized it was not meant for a mere Facebook status update. Another poem was born on these very pages then.

Inspired by B.W. Richardson’s posts of late about fear and hope and dreams, the symbolism of the phrases fell into place and Shipwreck was born. Please feel free to read the poem and then Richardson’s blog, Montag – or vice versa. Then get to sailing!

I’m still being visited by the Muse and I’m still struggling to get it all recorded. In the depths of my commute home yesterday, an idea for a poem had injected itself into my head like a magma flow into crevasses in the bedrock.  I managed to record some notes via the memo recorder on my phone, but this method is awkward for me, perhaps only serving to embed it in my memory from actually forming the sentences.  I absolutely must learn how to write while I drive!

This idea fomented based on a quote from the Writer’s Almanac or the random quotes that greet me on my iGoogle page each morning.  The quote was a poet lamenting that people didn’t write about love or with humor anymore; modern poems now mostly consisting of nature or something, under the influence of the Romantics (counter-intuitive?).  This has stuck in my brain, especially since I ruminate poetically mostly about nature, I think. I have written love poems for A___ that won’t be seen here.  I gave them to her as a personal gift and she can choose to do what she wants with them, including post them.

The poem born yesterday will only carry a dedication to A___, as it is now posted on its own poetry page (listed under the “Poetry” page at the top or on the right sidebar) and entitled “Your Love Builds Mountains.”  While the poem may not carry overt humor I’m sure some may be found, since some people can find humor in anything.  It definitely carries a theme of love, all inside of a natural metaphor.  Whoever the lamenting poet was will have to accept the compromise.

Beyond the references to extreme heat in the poem, the other aspect of hotness in this post are the links to my Pandora stations, meaning if you click on them you are transported to Pandora.com to play the station.  (I would like to apologize for the lameness of that last statement; it really was a stretch.  But then, you have to pay for non-lame web content.)  The building and tweaking of the music stations became quite a game for me, and so there is some overlap in my created stations.  There are also stations created by others that I have linked to appearing in the list as well.  For anyone who likes the random button, Pandora is your mecca.  Personally, I hardly ever listen to a CD straight through, unless it is a soundtrack, compilation, or live recording.

So enjoy the new poem while chilling out to some moderately random, though quite musically related, tunes.

As the holiday season prepares to go out with a bang this evening, I’d like to reflect on thoughts I’ve had while catching up with old friends and acquaintances.  This year has found me with a full social schedule over the past two weeks meeting with prodigal friends returning home temporarily or carving out some time to catch up.  At one time, all of the people I visited with shared some aspect of their lives with me before separating to pursue individual purposes.  I’ve thought much about the divergence in our lives and geography and how much one has had an effect on the other.  Read the rest of this entry »

The elections season is finally over.  No court battles.  No Recounts.  No Controversy.  The corporate consumption mechanism has the airwaves back to plant their ideas in your brain.  The election is over and the people’s voices were heard…or were they?

When it is said that someone’s voice is heard, isn’t it usually referring to the airing of that person’s original thoughts and opinions?  If an actor is reading from a script they didn’t write, their voice wasn’t heard, even thought they were physically speaking.  So how does an election actually equate to voices being heard?  And whose voices?

The election process in this country starts out with petitions.  Some petitions require a multitude of signatures to be accepted and the candidate added to the ballot; some petitions require a small fraction of those signatures so long as the candidate has the proper party affiliation.  In the very first stages, then, it seems a small portion of people have a bullhorn while muffling the voices of the rest.  Thankfully for the whole process, “the people” have a memory span of about two shakes, and they forget all prior knowledge in order to put their voice into the chorus already written by the few.

As the nomination process progresses through to the actual general election, fewer and fewer “voices” are being heard.  The voice of special interest and power players compose the chorus and direct the now-actors with the bullhorn of the corporate media.  When the election finally arrives, the scripts are written, vetted, and approved.  The voter simply chooses the script they wish to read and their “voice” is added to the chorus.  By this time, they have already forgotten that this wasn’t actually their voice but continue to believe it anyway.

All the world is a stage, and we are merely players.  Bravo, and I’m ready for my close-up.

I experienced major disillusion yesterday.  Part of the illusion I was holding was borne of supreme confidence and hopeful expectation (and probably logic not encountered in the structured corporate environment).  How foolish of me!  The hope of a great leap ahead in compensation and professional expansion was just too much to not latch on to, I guess.  The position laid out, and the process of actually creating the position, was so compartmentalized that one would need to already hold the same job to fit, like a good cog in a machine.  Of course carried to an absurd conclusion, those cogs in the corporate mechanism have no ability to expand or evolve, but only to fit in their rightful place as they were manufactured to.

After viewing the situation from a new distance, am I disappointed that I don’t get the opportunity to be a cog?  Surprisingly, yes.  There were many benefits to occupying the cog slot.  Read the rest of this entry »

I talk a lot about limits and extremes and thresholds on this blog. Mostly, I’m in a camp that argues at the philosophical extremes to expose principals that characterize actions that may masquerade under alternate pretensions. Today, I want to talk about balance, though – moderation, even. As usual, I will use metaphor to accomplish attempt this.

I am a huge fan of sandwiches big and small. My mother (the one with the large stores of peanut butter and marshmallow fluff) tells me that, even at a young age, I would prefer a sandwich to pretty much anything. This in comparison to my brother who was a meat and potatoes kind of kid. I’ve expanded my palate over the years and my definition of a sandwich changed with it. Now a Sandwich (Big S) is a sub-category of contained foods to be eaten with the hands – sandwiches (little s). Burritos and other such wraps fall into another sub-category that don’t involve leavened bread products. I’ve put much thought and experimentation into sandwiches: what they are, proper proportions, ingredients, assembly, and ingestion methods. These thoughts translate into other matters of life pretty readily.

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Then I saw heaven open, and I saw a white horse! The One who rode him is called `One who can be Trusted’ and `The True One’. He punishes and makes war in the right way.

 His eyes were like a flame of fire. On his head were many crowns. He had a name written on him, but no man knew what it was but he himself.

Revelations 19:11-12  (Worldwide English Bible (New Testament))

In libertarian circles, debate and invective have been swirling in recent months based on differing opinions of Republican presidential candidate Ron Paul, a multi-term Congressman from Texas.  Why is a Republican candidate drawing the attention of libertarians (and party Libertarians)?  One direct answer to that question could indeed be that it is the second coming of Mr. Paul – he ran for president in 1988 under the Libertarian Party banner.  A more general answer is the focus of many mainstream libertarians recently on fiscal and entitlement policy; which, if the eyes are squinted just right, looks sort of, maybe, like the Republican Party – or their supposed platform, anyway.  Mr. Paul’s governing philosophy is refreshing (compared to other choices) in certain (not all) areas of policy-making to libertarians (like hanging out with ugly and dumb people to make one’s self look better or feel smarter by comparison), but does this deserve the reverence and fanaticism some of his followers are overcome with; fanaticism strong enough for previously-avowed anarchists to attempt to confiscate the non-believing heretics’ libertarian credential cards?

Personally, I don’t care to involve myself in the debate beyond stating my reasons for not entering.  Read the rest of this entry »

On account of presidential candidate Mitt Romney’s Faith-in-America speech last week, questions about the nature and existence of belief are on everyone’s mind. Romney made the argument that any belief – as long as it is monotheistic and similar enough to Christianity to be misconstrued as such – is far better than no belief at all. Backed up by polls indicating negative support for non-believers, it seems Romney made a sound political move.

Out this week is a new poll adding further weight to the push for believers in powerful offices. The poll, conducted by People for Pixies Party (P4PP) in conjunction with Pink Elephant Publishing, found that 61% percent of respondents wouldn’t vote for someone who didn’t believe in Santa Claus. SANTA CLAUS! How could better than 25% vote for such a nutcase that would not believe in Santa? Further questioning revealed that the preference wasn’t simply for Santa, but votes could be conscientiously cast for believers in Saint Nick, Chris Cringle, Father Christmas, Sinterklaas, or Papa Noel. Opposition to non-belief drops off in the electorate with the Easter Bunny and further still for the Tooth Fairy (much to the disappointment of the P4PP).

Many of the respondents sited tradition and a generally jolly attitude that is presumed to be attributed to and synonymous with their Santaism. The tradition argument seems to be grasping at garland, though, says Geoffrey Stone, a professor of law at the University of Chicago. He argues that the majority of the men that founded our nation didn’t adhere to Santaism:

These words no doubt sound shockingly blunt and “politically incorrect” to modern ears, but they were in fact the views of many of our most revered Founders.

It can’t be said for sure if our current sitting president is a believer, but it seems likely. I have to wonder though if Santa, who is bearded and probably looks kind of foreign, wasn’t a victim of extraordinary rendition and all his reindeer waterboarded in order to find any cells of rogue elves. I guess we’ll have to wait until Christmas Eve to know for sure. There is a ‘War on Christmas’ on, don’t ya know?

In light of these recent polls, will non-believers in Santa be forever in the powerless minority?

Office coffee smells like coffee in the little pre-measured pouch, aromatic and enticing, even hopeful. It looks legitimately like coffee when it brews. It even taste a little like coffee in the first few seconds of its existence. But all hope is quickly dashed after having more than a taste, and all that remains is the weak bitterness of dashed hopes and the stale shame of being fooled again. It reminds me of election years.

The similarities between elections and office coffee are many. Both are packaged, filtered and watered down. Inside those packages aren’t the best products either. Neither the coffee nor the politicians being sold would be desired in a free market with many choices. When the thin perceptions are stripped away to reveal the hoax that was lurking behind the mask, disappointment follows. Yet so many of us can be fooled into thinking this next batch, in essentially the same portioned packet with the deceiving aroma of freshness, can offer hope for something tasty and satisfying.

In the 2004 presidential election, I was taken by the hype of Micheal Badnarik and the enthusiasm for this new Libertarian Party candidate. Having never paid much attention to the elections and candidates with any more interest than a spectator (I was always skeptical of the whole process), the hope and rhetoric was infectious. I thought he had a chance (only to make some waves, which is victory enough for a third party in national elections). It was different from years past, better than ever, if the talk was to be believed. Alas, it was more of the same and not even as good as in previous years. My lesson was complete and I ducked off of the political merry-go-round for good.

This year Ron Paul, a former Libertarian Party candidate for president, has the hopeful hype behind him. Using the energy third-party candidates usually expend on actually getting on the ballot, trying to get media attention, and be considered for debates and election events, Dr. Paul has been in several debates already, is automatically on the primary ballots due to his affiliation with the Republican Party, and has raised several times the amount of money that Micheal Badnarik was able to muster.  On the surface it seems that liberty has a chance to be elected again, just in time for a big election.

There is always hope, that is until the product is filtered and watered down to generate the most appeal to the largest number of people possible.  Don’t be surprised when the brewing is done, all the votes are cast, and the bitter taste of the lowest common denominator is stuck in your mouth.  Some people try this charade over and over before they get any kind of eye-opening effect.  They brew the same coffee in the same manner several times a day, morning after morning, and they vote the same way for the same people (essentially), election after election.  Some coffee drinkers come to like the office coffee, but it is their tastes that change over time and not the coffee.  Some voters become happier and happier with results of elections not because the votes are working, but because their desires and expectations adapt to the results and their desires change.  Then there are those who think outside of the usual grind and drink tea, or those who decide to not bother trying to vote for their freedom or whatever ends they desire and just make it happen themselves.  There will always be another cup of weak, stale coffee in the office pot.  Some will continue to drink while complaining every time, trying to add sugar or creamer to dress it up and hide the awful taste.  Many more continue to vote, while complaining the whole time, and waiting for someone else to make the changes they would like to see.