Tagged: life

One Teeny, Tiny Flaw

I remember catching my mom in a bookstore aisle, kind of tucked away once. The book she was reading was self-help for “control freaks”. Understand, then, that she was the control freak in our family, and my sense of the encounter was that she was embarrassed that her son had seen that maybe she didn’t want to be.

I barely need to repeat the following, but for the unfaithful readers, please accept without question that my wife isn’t in love with yours truly anymore.

Books actually play a pivotal role in the drama, albeit in an unpredictable way. One of her main complaints to me, about my way of life, is that all my book reading does not lead to more money.

For my part, one of my main “asks” of her is that she stop reading the latest Christian bestselling “health and wealth” sermon transcripts masquerading as books. And truthfully, I don’t care that she reads them, but I would like her to read, at least some of the time, real books—not “The Secret” part 73. I mean even pulp fiction or Louis L’Amour or whatever is flying off the grocery store shelves these days.

This last time home, I saw an unfamiliar book stacked upon her bible called something like, “How to Live With A Manipulative Husband”.

Do you see the problem, folks? It’s easy to miss, so I understand if you don’t.

As for me, I am seriously considering putting out a best seller for us husbands. What do you say?

The title will be, “How to Smarten Up Your Wife AND Get Her to Stop Buying Crap.” Or maybe, “How to Make Your Wife Understand That She Doesn’t Need Makeup and Wigs Just Because All Other Women Wear Them.”

This might need to be a series, actually.

Another could be, “How to Live with a Woman Who, as It Turns Out, Is an Immature Child Who Lacks the Ability to Reason.”

Then there could be one on, “When Your Wife Married You, But Listens to Every Other Human Being Who Has Ever Uttered Speech Sounds Instead.”

The capstone, and I mean Fifty Shades of Grey success, will, of course, be, “How to Actually Get Your Wife to Stop Complaining and Be Happy.”

Men of the blogosphere, I’ve got you pegged as less than 10% of my readership. But what say you? Would you pay to unlock these secrets?

Thuck-Y-Dideez

I first heard of Thucydides in college. This would have been 2001-ish. We weren’t studying him, but the professor needed to make a point and used the classic “Athens-open, Sparta-closed” historian to do so. Along the way, the professor interlaced a story about how a student came to him complaining about the reading and pronounced thoo-sih-di-deez: Thuck-Y-Dideez.

Funny stuff.

I do not know what the Thucydides Trap is, but I want to post an informed guess before I google it. What did Xi mean when he used the phrase?

Before I reveal my surmise, I want to add here that a chinaman using a western anecdote is real evidence that America and the West are already winning the war with China. And rightly so, since we’re obviously the more relevant civilization.

Okay. That said. What is the “Thucydides Trap” that we hope to avoid?

War.

(Wish me luck in my AI-ing for confirmation/information.)

Did You Know the Victorian Era had a Fad Called “Table Turning”?

It’s true. I first read about it in the Gateway to the Great Books volume on Natural Science.

The renowned physicists of the era actually referenced, with tremendous disdain, the nonsense on their way to explaining how the physical world follows seemingly iron law.

But don’t take my word for it. Just search it up. Victorian era table-turning.

(You’re tired. It’s late. What does this have to do with anything, you ask? Well, it just should be counted as proof positive that there are no bounds to our ability to try to fool each other and to be fooled by each other. There are no extraterrestrial life forms, folks—only terrestrial suckers.)

On Noble Pleasure

Anyone else, for whatever reason—be it environmental considerations or energy (mine is energy)—refuse to turn on hot water to wash their hands? And given this state of play, then, every so once in a while, wash them right after someone who isn’t so aware, and, for the briefest of moments, feel just regal as the still-warm water hits? For my part, I imagine the pleasure is exactly comparable to what it must have felt like to sneak a dessert made with the richest, purest, and freshest ingredients right off the King’s china after he had departed—and before the other (reckless and shifty as they were) servants entered—the hall.

Did the “God and Father of our Lord, Jesus Christ” Tell Me to Calm Down After My Car Broke Down on the Side of the Road?

As an EMS Helicoper Pilot, I absolutely refuse to sit in a car parked on the side of a highway. State Highway or otherwise, no way. Emergency blinkers on or not, you couldn’t pay me to sit inside the parked car and await my fate.

So I walked away from the car through some desert grass to a flat spot which, coming back in the morning, proved to be the access road to the parallel running railroad just a little farther away.

My main thought was, “Why would this happen? Have I been too unhinged in my thought life recently as my wife made terrible decisions about contagious kids? Maybe. But, no. I don’t really believe in such cause and effect. So why? Why can’t I just get home?”

Friends came to my immediate rescue, but not before one “Maryland Man”-type character pulled to a stop to see if I needed help. The passenger’s inability to look anywhere but forward was silly and unnerving. But, on the whole, the driver slowly developed a demeanor of, “I have more to lose than this gringo off duty cop,” and so he was happy for me to thank him and send him on his way.

Another vehicle, this time a sedan, came to a stop alongside my parked car—on an active lane of highway—and expected to see someone in the seat. Upon discovering my car was empty, or perhaps seeing the traffic behind him wasn’t necessarily going to stop, he pulled forward, and then got out and approached the car. I yelled from the side road area and he got back in his car. Unlike the MS-13 wannabe who definitely would have taken advantage of someone, this guy seemed “merely high” and in need of a loving act to square him with god.

As my pal finally approached, I still felt terror that some drunk was gonna take us all out as I quickly moved gear from my car to my rescuers.

Fast forward to this morning.

I was now, while standing a ways off the road again, on the phone discovering that the insurance-directed tow company had no idea I exist. The wind was blowing much colder than anticipated. The sun, while near constant in its role, was behind clouds. And I still had only one thing on my mind. “I will never sit in a car parked off the road on a highway. No, sir. Not me. I’m not going out like that. I’d rather freeze.”

Another rando pulls off (smartly) onto a driveway-esque point where the road would allow easy crossing of the railroad. I think, “Yup, I should’ve pulled off there too.” I walk over and say, “Thank you, but I already have help on the way.”

A 60ish year old local woman rolls down her window and replies, “What? Okay. I thought you were Jeremy.”

What a world we live in. I thought for a minute about whether Jeremy has my body type and Carhartt hoodie jacket, or my car. Or maybe both? That would be weird.

Finally, my wife, in a move totally unexpected for a million reasons, most especially the fact that I told her to go all the way to the next light just a few miles down for the required U-Turn, caught my attention by rushing to a stop and swinging the U-Turn at some random access point in the median which I honestly had not even noticed until just then.

Here’s where things get spiritual.

As this maneuver is being completed, I noticed two snow-plow-type city trucks slowly coming toward us. They were driving on the shoulder, spraying whatever they were spraying on the side of the road.

With me, faithful reader?

I tell my wife, “Please move to in front of my car so that you don’t get hit. I need to grab stuff from my car and I don’t want you guys (J- is in the car too) to get hit while waiting and trying to help me.

She did.

Slowly the trucks approached, turned their spigots down to a trickle, and gave way to pass by before resuming.

Another minute of moving gear—unprotected by those two trucks—and we were off. Success.

I am not one to find God, especially the actual, factual Biblical Father/Son/Holy Spirit, in every waking and coincidental moment.

But, right or wrong, when I saw those “blockers” slow rolling up to my family and I, and at the precise time that we were all there, I felt like maybe He was telling me, “Dude—too tight. You’re holding on too tight. It’s not your day.”

One Thought on Mathematicians

As I keep working through James Newman’s four volume The World of Mathematics, I cannot help but conclude that my previously held notion “nurture matters (in “nature vs nurture” sense) in the development of mathematical ability” is entirely mistaken.

New question: In what other corners of the mind might nurture not matter?

The Word (And Idea) “Incompatible” Is Impotent. Please Stop Using It.

The single most important political issue of our day is removing Islam from the USA and the West in general (if not removing it from the face of the earth, vis-a-vis all the gods and religions that currently make up the “myth” section of libraries and bookstores, Zeus, Ares etc).

I freely confess that it is difficult to tell how things are going. Once the algorithm knows what you’re interested in, the entire world seems to revolve around that content. But I have been paying close attention to Islam’s spread since 2015ish and recently even the major players have been echoing the above position of mine.

The trending strategy, which I believe is totally uncoordinated, seems to be, “We use the word ‘incompatible’ because it is neutral.”

That is a powerless strategy. Don’t get me wrong, any strategy that works is fine by me. But there is something to be said for truly stating the case.

The case against Islam: Islam is stupid.

Many other religions, not all, are likewise stupid. But the obvious difference in their adherent’s twin categories of (1) assimilation and (2) non-calls for jihad make these other religions relatively harmless.

Just the same, the problem is not that Islam is incompatible with the West or the USA. The problem is, at face value, Islam is stupid. The god of the Bible, not Yahweh, not Jesus, not the Holy Spirit, did not show up to anyone in a cave and issue a new law that canceled the current law.

How do I know? Because it’s a stupid idea!

Did the Israelite god have a grand plan to send his son as a man-god to die? And if so, is that good news? Yes and yes.

How do I know? Because it is a brilliant idea!

Do you see how you feel right now? Even when I write it, I find this description of “Christianity is brilliant” to be repulsive. For some reason, to admit that something we want to believe (I can have eternal life in the best sense of the word “life”) is something brilliant just doesn’t land. As if there is something inherently stupid about “life” and something inherently bad about “brilliant” ideas.

And yet, to be clear: to admit biblical Christianity (originalist/orthodox/not-Talirico-progressive-style) is brilliant does not mean it was invented. Brilliant just means brilliant. And stupid means stupid.

And Islam is stupid. America, on the other hand, is on the leading edge of the most brilliant civilization mankind has developed to date. And brilliant civilizations do not welcome stupid ideas, especially one as stupid as Islam.

In War, Winning Matters

On repeat, we’ll soon hear incessant debate, masquerading as reporting, about who has war powers and whether “orange man bad” has lost his mind in a way that is impeachable etc.

That’s expected.

But never for one moment lose track of what matters: in war, winning matters. Not the future, not principles, but winning. And here is how we know that we’re winning: no American cities are being attacked.

Once American cities are receiving fire, the winning-losing continuum becomes slightly broader.

But until then, there is nothing to get your panties in a twist about.