Musings in Search of a Muse

A U.S. Government building!

Point your Google Earth to 32° 40' N 117° 09' to see this genuine testament to American values near the heart of beautiful downtown San Diego, California. Pretty interesting, huh. I don't know any other details, but I'm looking. If you know anything, please feel free to use the comments section.

Okay, I ranted and raved about the TiVo when I first got it. Hey, it was new and I was in love. And you haven't heard much from me about it since, have you?

I guess Second Life (SL) is going to be like that, though with a far less useful purpose in the long run. But here I am in a pool somewhere in SL, just floating around and listening to a strange mix of 80s dance music streaming through the interface. Zipping down this water slide wasn't as much fun as it would be in my First Life (FL), yet it was still kinda cool. Swimming consisted of walking around due to interface limitations and there is no "real" diving.

It's my guess that I'll tire of this hobby after a while, though I don't know when. It is fairly addictive. In fact, I'm heading back into the game space now.

Once again I blindly signed up for something because the folks at TWiT did. Thus CC Columbo was born into Second Life (SL), a virtual world where people can socialize, attend live events, and generally carry on in ways that might not be easy in their first lives. So it shouldn't have been as much of a surprise as it was, but one of the first things I found was gambling. Casinos seem to be everywhere in Second Life.

I'm still not sure what I'll be doing in SL, but for now I'm having some fun exploring. And flying. Yes, everyone can fly. That's a hoot as my biggest fantasy in my first life is to be able to fly. There are times I'd swear that I can, but alas, I have to leave that for Second Life. As I write this, though, my avatar is "camping" in a chair somewhere earning three dollars of the local currency every 10 minutes just for sitting there. Right now I'm up to 15 bucks. Someone nearby has earned 39 bucks. I'm guessing that population density shown on the "world" maps attracts visitors and that local vendors of virtual merchandise use people as "living" billboards.

I'm sure to many of you that sounds cryptic, but think about it for a few moments and it will probably make sense. In any case, I don't see myself doing this for too long. In the long run it will probably have all the value of other pointless Internet activities. Hopefully I'm wrong. I joined a Christian group and we'll see what that leads to, if anything. In any case, it's amusing for now.

Disagree with me if you will, but the two greatest dogs in cinema history are (alphabetically for no good reason) Asta and Dino. No, Lassie is not on the list. Nor are any of the dogs in Best in Show (2000). See, it's my blog so it's my list.

Asta, whose real name is Skippy, was the family dog for Nick and Nora Charles in the Thin Man movies from 1934 to 1947. Lovable and smart like most terriers, this pup parlayed his talents into getting real screen time and important parts in the scripts. He even had a 'wife' in After the Thin Man. Why she played around on such a wonderful pooch, I'll never know (you'll have to see the flick).

Check out Bark Magazine "The Bark Unleashed" for more information about Asta. And look for him on Turner Classic Movies or American Movie Classics sometime.


Another great dog is Dino, from The Flintstones (1960-1966). Loyal, smart, and a wonderful friend to kids. What more could you want in a dog? Well, he's not exactly a "dog," per se. Some sources online list him as a Snarkosaurus, but at least one episode of the classic TV show pointed out that his breed hunted Snarkosauri. In any case, he's a dandy critter and I'd readily have one as a pet. Until then I've got a stuffed Dino to keep me company.

Ignoring moral implications, social controversies, and Biblical restrictions on homosexuality, what does it matter if a role model is gay or not? Apparently someone thinks that it is important.

Future generations of California children would read about homosexuals' contributions to history, under a bill approved by state senators.

The bill would require California's textbooks to include the contributions of gays, lesbians, bisexuals and transgender people to the state and nation's history when schools replace current texts. Social science texts will next be revised in 2012.

California is the nation's largest buyer of textbooks, with annual spending topping $400 million.

The measure passed with no Republican votes. It heads to the Assembly, where opponents vowed another fight.

The bill by Sen. Sheila Kuehl, the state's first openly gay legislator, also would bar textbooks and other instructional material that portrayed gays in a negative light.

State law already bars textbooks portraying people negatively because of their race, sex, color, creed, handicap, national origin, or ancestry. It also requires that the books include the contributions from racial, ethnic and cultural minorities (WGAL.com "Bill Would Require Gay Role Models In Textbooks").

Does it mean that Alexander the Great wouldn't have conquered half the known world if he hadn't been gay? Would Ellen DeGeneres be any less funny if she preferred men instead of women? If Plato was straight we all would be thinking differently, right? Honestly, what does it matter?

Important events happen because of actions, not sexual preference. This is the same argument I have with race. I'm sure the nuclear weapon that was lost in 1966 would still have been found if Navy hero Carl Brashear had been white. In the research that I've done for this post I don't see the importance behind the issue as long as all children are raised to be the best people they can be without factors such as this pending legislation recognizes. As long as differences are emphasized factions and clashes will continue to grow.

"Taxi driver Jaime Tinoco works the streets of Caracas in a 1976 Chevy Nova that guzzles 19 gallons (72 liters) of gas a day. But he doesn't worry about fuel efficiency -- filling his tank costs just $2.30. While U.S. consumers struggle with soaring energy prices, Venezuela's gas is now the world's cheapest at 12 cents a gallon and Washington's regional foe, President Hugo Chavez, vows to maintain subsidies that keep fuel dirt-cheap" (Yahoo! News "Energy crisis? Venezuela gas is cheaper than water").

Yet I tanked up at the current bargain price of $2.81/gallon yesterday, a total of $27.00 to the Full mark.

Like many, my wallet is a bit thinner for the extra use but I've long said that higher prices will spur development of other technologies or resources. The Yahoo! News article hints at that

"People buy a car because it's comfortable or because it's big," said Isidro Rodriguez, 30, an accountant, as he filled up a new 4-wheel-drive Ford in southern Caracas. "It's not for the price of fuel, because that's never been a problem."

but other reports and commentaries I've heard of late from NPR and Marketplace are more explicit. Increasingly, land (and water) is being given over to wind farms, alternative fuel options are being implemented, and even the government is taking a second look at energy industry subsidies. I don't have a legacy to protect and plan around and I plan on being fairly energy-independent come the Milenial Kingdom, but I still don't mind paying a little bit more now toward a change to forward thinking.

It always seems that one of my informal functions at work is playing Ad Hoc Coordinator of Recreation and Amusement. In my current work group this means I have to send out a daily e-mail with an odd news story. Other teams have someone sending out a "positive, inspirational quote." My supervisor would have nothing of that so he changed the content. Leaving not well enough alone, I add either a comic or humorous quote and an unusual word with definition to the mailing. "The Word" in a recent piece was rather good:

recherche \ruh-sher-SHAY\, adjective:
1. Uncommon; exotic; rare.
2. Exquisite; choice.
3. Excessively refined; affected.
4. Pretentious; overblown.

. . .recherche topics interesting only to university specialists.
-- Katharine Washburn and John F. Thornton, Dumbing Down

She was mocking the pretensions of the cookery writer who insists on recherche ingredients not because of their qualities but their snob value.
-- Angela Carter, Shaking a Leg

In recent years, Garber's appetite for the rigors of theory seems to have diminished. The books have kept coming, but the italics-heavy meditations and the recherche terminology have receded.
-- Zo Heller, "House Arrest", The New Republic, July 3, 2000

Recherche comes from French, from rechercher, "to seek out," from re- + chercher, "to look for, to seek."

(source: Dictionary.com)

The comic was rather good, too.

A Tesoro gas marquee is shown May 1, 2006 in Honolulu. Gov. Linda Lingle says she sees no plausible situation in which she would ever use her power to bring back the state's cap on wholesale gasoline prices, which are set to become history as early as this weekend. (AP Photo/Marco Garci, File [source])

Prices for 89 octane in my area (South Central Penn's Woods) has been holding at about $2.85 gallon lately. I'm at a half-tank and will likely fill-up Saturday. I'll need gas for the lawn mower, too.

I expect to see some Hawaiian-style prices on my way to the Pine Tree State at the end of this month. Fueling up on the New York Thruway tends to get a bit expensive. If I can get to the Mass Pike (if I go that way) or Bennington, VT (if I go that way) I know I can do better, but only by a few cents. And Mom usually pays for that anyway. I know I can make it that far on a tank full if I stick to between 55 to 60 M.P.H. so I can save her some money.

"Brazil joins world's nuclear club" Brazil has joined the select group of countries with the capability of enriching uranium as a means of generating energy (BBC NEWS).

How did the CIA miss something this simple? I can see blowing the whole "fall of Communism" thing in the 80s, but with all the emphasis on watching South Korea, Pakistan, and India build nuclear weapons without checks and with making sure Iran knows how unhappy we are with their attempts to build facilities similar to what Brazil just did ....

Okay, I can't be facetious anymore. The double-standard is clear. What is sauce for the goose should be sauce for the gander. Without demanding fair and equal treatment for all, America will continue to be seen as a hypocrite as measured by it's own standards.

Okay, call me unobservant instead. It wasn't until about a week ago that I noticed the month-long campaign for the show Rescue Me on FX is actually for the premiere on May 30^th. Why did they need to start so early? And as if the incessant pop-ups in the corner of the other programs weren't enough the spots run in 90% of the commercial breaks of every program.

In some subtle, subconscious ways I may very well be as racist as the average bear, though with hope, less so. I find the idea completely abhorrent. My parents raised me to not think about race. I played with other children -- black, white, yellow, and brown -- without any thought to our differences. My G.I. Joe collection was integrated. I was even bussed because my school was all white at first.

But there were influences, minor to be sure, that completed the picture for me. Dad was always quiet about mixed marriages and mom was always against them "because what would that make the kids?" When my dad brought home men from the submarines he served on they were never other than pale white. Dad always made it clear that race made no difference in his Navy because everyone depended on each other for their very lives. But I don't remember my parents ever socializing with people of color (well, other colors, at least). And while dad never told a race-based joke, he never told others that it was inappropriate when he heard one. Mom never indulged in such humor but the patronizing manner she would often don like a fine coat made her a parody of tolerance.

So to this day when I meet with someone new I don't notice if they are white unless they aren't.

That I find very disturbing. And depressing.

Then there was last Thursday: A new person in my work group came into the team meeting in stating to someone he was talking to "I don't got to do nuthin' but be black and die." Later in the meeting a black woman on the team commented sotto voce "my people don't get treated well here." And a number of other seemingly innocuous reminders of race cropped up as they do daily, all of which I found as greatly disturbing as any other day.

And yet, I can't help but think I am racist.

Or am I? Race, culture, religion, or any difference that I may have with others does not influence my relations with coworkers, customers, or others that I interact with but it is an omnipresent thought. Partly, I'm sure, so I don't let it be an influence. But partly it is something that pops up when a culture clash occurs.

An obvious example of this is when of my work buddies throws on a CD to help keep him occupied. It is almost always rap or hip-hop. What I'm about to write may remind you of "but some of my best friends are ..." and that's okay. My music library has a fair bit of rap and hip-hop. The difference is that his music is annoying. Aside from the annoyance of his keeping the volume down so I hear nothing but the bass line, what bothers me is almost all the songs are of the Gangsta or Thug sub-genre. Here's a middle-class white lad in his early twenties that clearly has had no connection with the lifestyle outside the music he "identifies" with (as he says). It also clear even in casual conversation that the lyrics shape his attitudes toward women, money, morals, and life. And worse, I hear it and think to myself "this danged black music ...." And I stop.

Without thinking I labeled the music and the associated culture in racist terms. There I am, a man old enough to remember signs on water fountains for "Coloreds Only" and being berated for calling a black man "Sir." I believe in deference for age or experience and that women are generally equal or superior to men in everything; that everyone is entitled to believe what they want and should they reject my religion (which I firmly believe is right) I don't reject them as people. Still, though, I tagged a crucial part of culture with a racist label.

I cry for myself in this as much as I cry for the whole indignity that is racism. While I've been labeled in many ways -- including losing out on a job because I was white and another because I was over weight ("If anybody asks, it is because others were more qualified," I was told) -- I will never know what it is like to be yellow, brown, black, or anything but white.

Nor will I be proud of being white. I briefly talked to a friend (and readers of this blog know how often I sincerely use that label, but she qualifies) about some of my feelings on racism and asked if I could discuss them with her sometime as a friend and as a black person. She agreed and gave me a tid-bit to think about: There is pride in being black.

There's a concept that baffles me even more than racism. Pride in a color or a heritage. I just can't imagine that. A few years ago a former KKK member spoke at school about his turn from racism and how it amazed him he could be proud to be white. "It's not like I worked at being white," he told the kids. "I couldn't stop being white." Like him, I can't find pride in a biological condition. Where is the pride in being white, or male, or tall, or any other characteristic one can describe? And how can one be proud of an ancestry, whether it is associated with a race or not? That doesn't make sense to me, either. When my friend mentioned pride in being black she said "like you are proud of being Irish." Well, she may have misinterpreted me last St. Patrick's Day, because though I celebrate my Irish-English-Scottish heritage, I don't take pride in it.

To me, pride is something that can only be linked to accomplishment. I can take pride in being a Penn State graduate, but I can't take pride in being white. The former was a reward for hard work while I came by the latter through chance (or divine will). And I wish not to take pride in my heritage as that would also assume a degree of responsibility. I cannot take credit for defeating the Spanish Armada in 1588 nor can I be blamed for the slaughter of innocents during the Crusades. Umbrage for having my people bound in slavery by pharaoh is not mine to take nor is the cultural shame for my people having taken slaves a millennium later.

Besides, despite earning three college degrees, spending uncountable hours in history texts, and teaching hundreds of children even the merest fraction of world history I still do not know enough to even think about having historical pride. Nor does anyone else (keeping in mind that nothing is absolute, including "absolute"). Which reminds me of another coworker of mine. She had told me a few times that she was proud to be an African-American. This I had to question when one day she asked "What country is Africa in?"

Perhaps it is the nature of humans to label and judge and separate based on differences or similarities. Maybe that animal part of our brain that helped us survive before we were endowed with humanity still controls our interactions within our environment (Yes, I'm a devout Christian who favors Evolution, but that's occasionally discussed in my other blog and in more than a few earlier posts in this blog). But it is our intelligence (or poor use of same) that enables us to perpetuate concepts such as race or pride. It is this same gift that can be used to abolish that which is not a credit to anyone's favor.

I haven't been updating my other blog, Ergo Deus, much now that Bible study is on hiatus, but for the theologically-minded, it's worth a peek now and then.

Poking around the Web the other day I happened upon some more body art pics, Nothing super spectacular, but this was a nice one. There were elephants, but no tigers or bears (oh! my!). Someone out there has got talent. Hopefully the artist that is going to do my buddy Frank's tattoo is talented. Work was slow yesterday and all of us were comparing tats. It's been a while since I got mine but I'd like to get it updated. Oddly, I don't have a picture of it anywhere. Hmmm.

The Left Behind series of books has been finished and shelved for awhile and I've been reading just about everything I can, but it looks like another series has started. The third book is going to be released 06-06-06. Hmmm ... there's a date that might live in infamy. Oddly, this looks like a rewrite of the first series. I'm out of books at the moment. Maybe I'll pop down to the bookstore and see what this new series is like.

"NYC Parents: Lift School Cell Ban" City Councilwoman Letitia James said she's introducing a resolution to stop schools from confiscating cell phones, which she said were vital lifelines for parents and their children. James and parent leaders say they don't object to rules requiring students to turn off their phones during classes, but they want the children to have access to them in emergencies (Wired News).

When I read stories like this or talk to customers as a representative of major mobile service provider I find myself amazed that mankind survived long enough to even invent the mobile phone. When I was a student in the pre-enlightened era we live in now I actually had to use the phone in the school office, the pay phone outside the building, or even :::gasp::: go home to talk to my folks.

And in the paleo-communicative era we had to pass hand written notes to chat in class or to cheat on tests (no, I never did that as far as you know). For recreation in study hall we resorted to chess, checkers, or :::gasp, again::: doing homework.

Then there was emergencies. Responsible adults were required to control problems, direct activities, and in the odd circumstance, evacuate the school (it was a school day for me when the near by Three Mile Island accident happened). Of course, today's students are so much safer now that they can call parents to add confusion to well-ordered procedures established under state law.

Photo courtesy St. Petersburg Times Online

Once again I was bored and changed my blog template. If you don't remember the old one, don't worry (though click here to see a sample if you can't sleep without seeing it again). The current one is called Forest Green and I found it here. Some things aren't working out, like the padding around the "Disclaimers" at bottom right and a few other tchotchkes that used to hang in the left-side column don't play well with the new template, but I'm working on it.

I'm thinking of replacing my picture with a flickr badge. Post a comment if you have any suggestions. Or maybe I can replace it with a picture of Mickey Mouse. My search for new templates turned up a cool one based on the pic shown here. Who knows, I still might do it. Maybe I'll get bored again.

Don't forget, though, that this blog is for my alter-ego. The blog for my altar-ego is Ergo Deus. It's eternal in more ways than just one.

As I've mentioned in a few earlier posts, one of the more interesting parts of my job as a mobile phone customer care representative is explaining to parents what their kids are downloading. The most fun comes from explaining the song titles like "Milk Shake" and other mature-themed content. "Yes, ma'am. That means ...."

The best lately was the lady who said her husband is in jail for driving under the influence so she's paying the bills. I explained that the recent invoice was higher than usual because of ringtones.

"He couldn't have downloaded them 'cause he's not smart enough. How'dja you know he did it? I'm not paying for these," she said.

Then I told her the names of the 'tones listed here (click the image for a larger view) and she went quiet. Can you see why?

By the way, she told me later she had to run because she was late for work. She's a bartender.