Tagged: life
The Image of a Microscope which Accompanied the Science Article—That’s What Bothered Me Today
The Sunday paper had an interesting article about the current war with China. Interesting as it was, there was no call to action. Or at least not a memorable one. There certainly was nothing for citizens to do. I think what I’m suggesting about the op/ed was that the scale wasn’t appropriate.
On the other hand, there was an article suggesting two “Life Science” bills be voted down. One of the two stock “science-y” images the paper used was of a microscope. Of all the articles and opinions in today’s paper, this irked me the most. Why? Because unlike the other author’s claim that China is an existential threat to America (the sky is a-falling!), this image is one which an individual—likely an editor—can do something about.
“Science” is not merely tool use. If anything, science is to tool (science:tool) as man is to wheel (science:tool::man:wheel). Science invents tools; science is never the process of using tools.
And an editor should know this—could know this. And that editor would be doing a service to truth, and his bottom line, if they put a bit more reason into their product.
What image should the editor use to capture science?
There are many that would work. But an easy one would be of someone writing an excellently organized paper, with a title which sufficiently describes the paper’s purpose.
Much Ado About Guns, Much Ado About Safety, Much Ado About First Responders
“As a veteran military interrogator…”
“From an ER nurse married to an LEO…”
“As a retired sheriff’s deputy…”
“As a physician…”
“As a retired federal agent…”
Dear Reader, care to make a guess as to the title or content of the YouTube video which had such opening lines to the comments?
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Last week was a busy week for me.
For a myriad of reasons, we just don’t fly as much at night, so most of my night hitches grow long and I run out of things to do. Sure, I read diligently. You remember I dabble in learning ASL. I exercise. But if you are able to rest all night and then have 12hrs before work, that is a lot of time to fill.
With that in mind, I had resolved a while ago to get my concealed carry permit again (I had one while active duty, but never kept it when I moved). Rather than take up time when home with the kids, I figured, “Why not find some training while away at work?” So I did.
I had the training scheduled for last Fri/Sat. It made for a bit of stress, because Thursday night and Friday night now became “I hope we don’t fly” instead of “Let’s see what the shift brings.” But it was a good plan.
Then the school shooting happened. This go-around, the unique part was that the kid was already known to be uncommon, to put it mildly. For all the talk about guns, this fact was the most depressing to me because it makes one feel the most helpless. We simply are not safe.
Then I had some time at the beginning of a shift to catch up on any company mandated CBT and saw that I had to do the annual “workplace violence” one before October. So I did it.
To summarize the week thus far, I knew I had concealed carry training (implies self-defense on the brain), there was a school shooting (I have two high schoolers), the shooter was known beforehand to law enforcement (we are not safe), and even at work I had to contemplate how to survive, as a first responder, to any violence while responding to a scene of violence.
That was all before Friday and the first part of the concealed carry training.
Sidebar: There is an actual shooting/accuracy test to the training, and I hadn’t shot in over a decade, so I was a bit nervous. I reviewed some videos which seemed to have good authority and called to mind what the Air Force had taught me. Suffice it to say, I will never watch another. Nor will I ever “train” or consider “training” as anything other than live fire. The recoil and overall physicality endured while firing a weapon cannot be replicated by any amount of anything. This is different from flying, for example, and many other activities in which simulation is highly beneficial. I’m writing this more for me than you, but if you don’t shoot much and have fallen prey to YouTube charisma, then feel free to use this confession to motivate you to get off your duff and go to the range.
Back to the main point of this post.
While in the training, we learned about a concept that I had never considered before (or heard of): insurance for the legal aftermath of “self-defense” shootings. It seemed like a reasonable concept/product and I was about to purchase it.
Then today I was introduced to the fine print and dissuaded from ever purchasing such insurance, in favor of hiring an attorney on retainer. (I am not sure if that is the proper language, but you get my point.)
Then while down that rabbit hole, I discovered the rather unique video which garnered the comments above. Without further ado, the video was a recommendation (which I have taken to heart) to always have the police take you to the hospital after a shooting. Reasons given ranged from strategic, to physical, to financial. But what struck me was the overkill of “appeal to expertise” or “ethos” (recall from Aristotle “logos, pathos, ethos”) in the supportive YT comments. First responders and others in similar positions at hospitals etc certainly have a thankless job. What else can be the reason they so nakedly want respect?
In the end, I am a dad, not a warrior, not a gunslinger. America is a safe place to live and work. First responders are as guilty for their attitudes as the thankless public. And I will be happy for a nice break, and some camping in the mountains with the kids in two days.
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So did you guess correctly? Let me know in the comments.
The Gays Will Save Us?
I discovered Douglas Murray by accident. He was openly and authoritatively denouncing Islam—and still breathing.
On the other hand, a friend shared a Bari Weiss piece with me. I assumed Bari was a man. Funny. She just started a new university—who does that?
Neither of them utter nonsense. They both seem to pick the most relevant fights. But they’re gay.
They’re not dead, so it’s possible that they see the light before too long. I don’t want to discourage anyone who fights for truth from fighting. So keep it up! Keep writing and podcasting. Please do.
But I have been thinking about these two figures for some time now and I just cannot conclude that being gay doesn’t matter. Sure it does. Of course it matters. All sorts of historical figures, so we’re told, were gay, and they may have even done good for Western civilization. But being gay isn’t a binder for us.
Something is amiss. The being gay is not going to work for the same reason that there eventually is just one straw that breaks the camel’s back. One cannot rebel in every instance, at every turn.
Put another way, why can’t we (sober, reasoning mankind) just have one celebrity level, A-lister who is married with kids and boring. Why is that so repulsive and stigmatized as inherently uncool and unintelligent?
In the end, my point is simply that the fact that that last question resonates tells me that no, no the gays (Murray and Weiss) will not save us. Whether this is because 1. We don’t need saving, or 2. They are not fit for the work of saving, I do not yet know. (I’m leaning towards option 1.)
I’m a Veteran and I’m Not Voting. (Trump Wins.) And What I Plan To Do If He Loses.
My acquaintances are disturbed when they encounter the fact that I am not voting. Here are my reasons for not voting, as plain as I can write them.
Firstly, I do not want Donald J. Trump or Kamala Harris to be the POTUS during the years 2025-2028.
Secondly, I do not support some higher principle on the issue of voting than that.
Got it? It’s not complicated.
On to the next question my acquaintances have often posed, “So you think life is fine and dandy and this election isn’t as meaningful as the general mood (which you confess to feel) suggests and that Kamala is a sacrificial lamb and the Dems are really just looking at 2028. I get it. But what does it mean if she wins? Like, what do you think it would mean since it would mean that you do not have your finger on the pulse, that you do not have accurate assumptions, and that you do not even know up from down? What then, Pete?”
Fair question. Firstly, action-wise, I plan to go to a store and buy an American flag and flag pole. Then I plan to return home and hang it upside down outside my door. One neighbor already does this. I have always liked and respected the silent power it holds. I also have always liked the idea of citizens silently solidifying through such tactics.
Then I will wait. I do not know for how long. What will I wait for? A hero. There are no heroes at the moment. It may be decades before one emerges. But one will come again. And on that day, I will support the hero—even so far as with violence against men who oppose the hero.
But, and mark my words, none of this is going to happen. My house will stay nondescript. Life is fine-and-dandy and you’re all suckers for believing the hype.
Black Women Need To Be Fired
Trump is going to win. The compelling reason after last week’s unbelievable DNC that I use to combat the media circle-jerk is the media does not lead with her “electoral college” path to victory. Instead, they run the headlines of her mere popularity.
This post and its content is not about “we need to follow the rules”. This post is about how there are rules and what the rules (which everybody does currently follow) show (Trump winning) is not being highlighted by the media. Instead, they are avoiding the topic. This, of course, is their prerogative. Who are any of us to insist someone to drop support of their free choice?
Trump wins. Done deal. Might as well write the history books now.
And yet, for as long as I can remember, there has passed a sort-of life-truth among Whites: Black women cannot be fired.
I do not remember the first time I heard of this notion, but it was early. It was probably in high school, ‘96-‘99.
I definitely remember that while in the Air Force I first heard about “Gee-Ess” employees and how they could never be fired. Worse, the rumor was held that the under or non-performer would actually get promoted.
Again, this was just rumor—zeitgeist.
It must have been around 2005, then, that I heard that beyond GS employees not being able to be fired, if it was a Black woman who worked as a GS, she was literally untouchable. In my mind, for over two decades, right or wrong, I have believed that the situation was such that if a black woman was fired from a federal job, it would prompt a Supreme Court Decision.
Do you hear me, people?
Trump has won. It is a done deal.
And yet I am not blind to the fact that the obstacle in his path is a federally employed Black woman.
Clash. Of. The. Titans.
(Or one more example of it.)
Here’s my thought, my underlying not-distasteful philosophy: I want Black women to live abundantly. I want Black women to achieve beyond their highest aspirations. I wouldn’t care one iota if some super-power nation promoting and securing peace and prosperity for all mankind came to be and was led by Black women.
But I do not believe any of those things will ever happen until Black women are fired.
So, I say again, Black women need to be fired.
Science Teachers: Teach the Truth
I was at an FBO (airport gas station—incidentally, this means very, very wealthy people are frequently around. I assure you, they do not inspire). Anyhow, I was there awaiting some maintenance on the helicopter for an afternoon the other day and I couldn’t help but notice that on the TV was a silly show where a “Science is fun!” guest teacher was visiting an inner city school to pep up the otherwise dry material.
It caught my attention, as you might expect, faithful reader, because the topic of my guided reading through the Great Books of the Western World is “Foundations of Math and Science”. So when I hear, “Newton”, “Force”, “Inertia”, and certain other keywords, I am always interested to take a closer look.
The particular concept the energetic guest was bringing to the kids was inertia. His whole game was to demonstrate inertia by yanking the tablecloth from under some dishes as they remain in place.
He says, “Inertia: the tendency of an object to stay at rest until a force acts upon it.”
The definition isn’t troubling. The troubling thing is…can you name it with me? On three. One, two, three: Everything in the universe is demonstrating it!
Whether this zany, cooler-than-your-teacher (and actually, kinda disrespectful) man shows up to a school and says the words “learn” “newton” “inertia”, or not, inertia is demonstrated by not only every object in a student’s immediate observation, the student’s body itself, but also by every object in the entirety of the universe!
But the man adds, “Isaac Newton would be so proud that you’re learning!!”
And there is the whopper. Isaac Newton would be proud if kids were learning (they’re not), but he would not be proud that a man claiming to be an expert is teaching kids that he is demonstrating inertia.
With me?
Inertia isn’t “demonstrated”. Inertia is.
“Pete, you’re being way too sensitive here.”
Am I?
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Why does learning have to be fun?
From what I have read, the math and science greats do not seem to have had much fun while attempting to communicate their ideas. Moreover, many of their lives were fairly difficult—as they were battling commonly held conceptions held by nearly each and every fellow man.
Instead of “fun”, I say let’s teach the truth to kids.
Straight from the man.
Definition III from Isaac Newton’s Mathematical Principle of Natural Philosophy.
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The vis insita, or innate force of matter, is a power of resisting, by which every body, as much as in it lies, continues in its present state, whether it be of rest, or of moving uniformly forwards in a right line.
This force is always proportional to the body whose force it is and differs nothing from the inactivity of the mass, but in our manner of conceiving it. A body, from the inert nature of matter, is not without difficulty put out of its state of rest or motion. Upon which account, this vis insita may, by a most significant name, be called inertia (vis inertio) or force of inactivity. But a body only exerts this force when another force, impressed upon it, endeavors to change its condition; and the exercise of this force may be considered as both resistance and impulse; it is resistance so far as the body, for maintaining its present state, opposes the force impressed; it is impulse so far as the body, by not easily giving way to the impressed force of another, endeavors to change the state of that other. Resistance is usually ascribed to bodies at rest, and impulse to those in motion; but motion and rest, as commonly conceived, are only relatively distinguished; nor are those bodies always truly at rest, which commonly are taken to be so.
(My underline.)
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If that doesn’t do it for ya, if you still don’t understand what Newton means by the word inertia, then the only sentiment I may offer as a last ditch effort is this.
Imagine a man moving while inside a moving vehicle. Got it? (It doesn’t have to be a car with a man reaching back to grab a snack from the back seat, or a pirate ship approaching a storm while the captain paces to and fro by the helm, or an airplane with a man squeezing down the aisle after a bathroom break. It can be any vehicle, any person, but the vehicle and the person inside must be moving.)
That is the Newtonian picture of the universe as described at the end of that definition. Because, Newton says, the vehicle we’re in (which you didn’t know we’re in—and he doesn’t mean merely planet Earth) is moving; there is no “rest” in the plain sense.
Inertia, then, is the conception (defensible by math and experimentation) that all bodies resist. It’s an action. Or a force. To resist, there must be something to resist. (Period.)
And I’m out.
I Am Never Ready
These last three days I learned that despite my training and full belief in the Boy Scouts’ “Be Prepared” motto, there are three things I am never ready for.
Firstly, America’s natural beauty, specifically the Rocky Mountains.
I drove to Salt Lake City from the Springs (and back) and while my eyes were necessarily on the road, I could’t help but marvel at the grandeur passing by my right and left.
I have decided that this area will be my kids and I’s new playground.
Secondly, folk’s response to, “What is the gospel?”
“You are insolent,” the friend of my buddy told me, as we sat next to each other late into the wedding reception. This was preceded by, “You are proselytizing.” Which was preceded by a three to five minute recounting of his entire childhood interaction with the Church which concluded, as he could tell he was avoiding the question, with a tremendously subpar answer, which he knew was subpar as he delivered it even before my eyes surely indicated so. This being preceded by his rehearsal of the lunacy of the concept of the “chosen people” and my, “Well, and to be sure—I am giving you my best now, no pulling punches—you must understand the gospel before you can understand or be at peace with any of the rest of it. There is an order of events, so to speak. So I would ask you (you don’t have to answer) what is the gospel?” And of course this was preceded by his, “You’re religious, huh? My problem is…”
I guess I am just an optimist. It’s my only explanation why I am always surprised that such a simple question can evoke such a dark response.
Thirdly, once in a lifetime offers of unimaginable wealth and luxury.
“Are you happy there? Are you happy with your job?”
I said, “Sorry what are you asking?”
“Are you settled in for good? Do you like your job?” the man repeated.
I had just met him. I learned he was a doctor. He was immediately kind. I believe his opening banter was complimenting the toast I had just given/hosted as best man. And, I never confirmed, but I am pretty sure he was a Mormon.
Do you see it now?
He saw what I had just accomplished in the other room and was ready to put those talents to work for the faith—and we all get richer in the process.
But I stumbled. Someone else was nearby and asking those around if they knew the movie that the current bluegrass band’s song was from, and I couldn’t help but ignore my new friend and lean over to answer, “O’ Brother Where Art Thou?!”
By the time that reverie ended, the moment had passed. The “doctor is out”, and never to return.
Oh well. I do like my house and I do like my job. But I also feel shame that I have acted in the same way during similar moments enough times to recognize the physical sensation I get afterwards as the “missed/blown opportunity” one. And this shame is only made worse in that these moments keep happening to me.
Maybe next time, I’ll be ready.
Point/Counterpoint: Will the Influx of Africans to the West Work? (3)
No.
The influx will not work, at least not for the first few generations (and deeper, the longer they segregate).
There has been too much “foreign aid” to their homelands, and not the requisite amount of humble (which is inherently also wise), “Say, how do you get to a place where your ‘cup runneth over’?” for the Africans to ever get out of the mindset of thinking manna falls from heaven and transition to contributing.
The Look of the Debate
For posterity sake, I want to tell you what stuck me most about the debate. I have seen many other reactions to the debate that discussed some of what I am going to say, but none have centered on it.
During the infamous 15 seconds, the camera showed Trump look over at Biden. He seems to have been in thought, likely preparing whatever he would say next (but who knows?) when he then genuinely noticed a pause and uncontrollably turned to see what was going on. Trump’s expression made him look human. Made him look likable. Made him look normal. Made him look like we all think he really is—a man who will do anything to win (and many other things too), but a man who is very aware that he is putting on a show. Perhaps he is a horse in a department store, as I once read him described, but more than that too.
Biden, on the other hand, did not ever have a redeemable moment.
Oh, and I still can’t stand teachers. (See EdD Jill’s ridiculous encouragement clip.) These people are a joke. Yes, yes. I know she meant “answered every question” as opposed to “dodged”-every-question-in-favor-of-repeating-rehearsed-talking-points, and she did not mean “competition award”. But the man failed with every breath and certainly didn’t need anyone lying to him, let alone in such pandering fashion.
Reaction to a Couple Obituaries, to Include the First Ever (for this blog) Mildly Approved Sentiment
“(Person) loved his family and he spent his life in service of their welfare and happiness. Most recently, he found great joy in being a grandfather, investing an enormous amount of time and love doting on his dearest (two named grandsons). He also cared deeply for the larger community around him.”
– What is being hidden here? A “lifetime in service of their welfare and happiness”? That kind of lie can only mean bitter, bitter relationships and it also evinces a total misunderstanding of language. Sorry, it was rough being in his family folks, but a few words in the Sunday paper after he’s dead is not going to “manifest” anything pretty, let alone reach back into the past and fix the issues. And why is it wrong to pick out one or two people (from the billions) to love? Ever since whites learned the power of the phrase “black community”, they feel guilty if they don’t use part or all of it during supposedly momentous occasions. Just stop. We don’t live as members of some group which needs fancy and false descriptors any different than T-Rex or George Washington did.
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Onto the first ever approved, if mildly, obituary assertion.
“He got a black lab puppy last year in April named Oslo. She was the best thing that had happen to him in quite some time. He never went anywhere without her, and they spent hours every day playing fetch with the tennis ball. He loved telling jokes and always had a smile on his face, despite away being described as grumpy ass sometimes.”
– What makes these sentiments worthy is they are fearless. Do you see? This dude lived a kinda shitty life (if a dog is the best thing to happen to you, then you’re having a “sour go”). I love the use of “tennis” to describe the ball—like anyone really cares what kind of ball it was. So quaint. I could do without the “ass”, and I wonder why no “air quotes” around “grumpy ass”, but the beauty is that whoever wrote this had some respect for the dead. I repeat: whoever wrote this respected this man. And the dead man obviously had threatened, or lived in a way which threatened, haunting whoever lied about him after his death.
So good work. This pairing of deceased and writer can teach us all a thing or two.
Captain’s Log 