Have you ever been annoyed by an on-line personality?    Perhaps this is a rhetorical question for you.  Regardless, Mike Reed of Flame Warriors has spent a lot of time studying the types of people who hang around and often annoy the rest of us.   These personality types include the following (and many more):  ALLCAPS, Bliss Nanny, Evil Clown, Filibuster, Grenade, Lonely Guy, Deacon, Troller and Xenophobe.

The only animals you’ll usually find in municipal swimming pool are humans.  It’s the end of the year, though, and Maplewood, Missouri is one of many communities that invites dogs into the pool before draining the water.  Out of curiosity, I visited Maplewood’s pool today and saw numerous dogs anxious to hit the water.

Entering a swimming pool filled with dogs that don’t know each other presents some hazards, of course.  Therefore, children under the age of 12 are not allowed into the pool area.   Adults who do enter are asked to sign a comprehensive waiver of liability.

Once admitted to the pool itself, this is what you would have seen today.   Lots and lots of dogs.  I was there in the early afternoon, and probably saw 100 dogs in the pool.  The only hazard I experienced was that I almost tripped over a few dogs.   They were truly everywhere.  No one seemed distraught that most of the dogs were swimming naked.  Somehow, it’s very different when the naked animals are humans.

Yesterday, at the nearby pool of University City, a friend of mine reported that she saw 400 dogs in the water at the same time.

This swimming pool full of dogs and people reminded me that people and dogs have developed incredibly close emotional bonds.  And these bonds all happened over the past 20,000 years because, until then, there were no dogs on planet Earth.  In a blink of an eye, dogs evolved from gray wolves, thanks largely to neotony. The two species are still so closely related that they can still breed with each other.  To shake things up at the pool, then, I could have cried wolf, though I didn’t.

This Saturday, I visited the Atheist Coming Out Party in Westerville, Ohio. The event had numerous hosts and sponsors- American Atheists, Students for Free Thought, Secular Student Alliance, and many, many regional skeptical and atheistic groups. As such, the event drew in atheists, secular humanists, skeptics, and other assorted heathens from all around Ohio, as well as neighboring states.

Where, do you ask, does a group of such cursed godless people go to gather? A lovely event barn in a gorgeous park:

And what do atheists do at such a party? Well, they begin with a little bit of potluck dinner and socializing:

I sat at a table with atheists from Tennessee, Kentucky, and northern Ohio. Visitors had traveled for hours and hours on end for this lovely event. Our region, after all, does not generate many skeptical and atheist get-togethers. New England has Boston Skeptics in the Pub, Las Vegas has The Amaz!ing Meeting, but the midwest usually has a dearth of heatheny gatherings.

After a filling lunch of the unwashed souls of the damned (and carrot cake), we moved upstairs for a series of talks. First up was Hemant Mehta, Chicago-area atheist who wrote I Sold My Soul on Ebay, and who writes at the Friendly Atheist blog.

Hemant had one very important take home point in his talk: atheists need to capture the positive aspects of church culture. We need to provide a sense of community for one another. We need to advertise our messages as effectively as Christians do. And, especially, we need to use our organizations to do a boatload of charity work, like the Christians do.

Following Hemant came Edwin Kagin of American Atheists. He delighted the audience with a very impromptu series of atheist jokes and assorted ramblings.  Edwin does most of the legal heavy lifting for American Atheists, and has done so for quite some time. His take-home point was…well, I’m not exactly sure, but he definitely stressed the idea that atheists must come out of the closet, lest they remain a forever marginalized group.

Speaking of atheist marginalization, the event even had protesters! Unfortunately, my photo did not come out very well:

The protesters’ signs said things like “God Loves You”. They behaved in a very respectful and kind manner. We certainly returned the favor: some atheists brought the small group food and water, and I made sure to ask permission before snapping a quick shot of the gang.

Hopefully the group learned that atheists look normal, behave decently, and even have families themselves. Look at this beautiful family that attended the event:

Wow! This presumably atheist family has already taught its young daughters to play chess.

I had to leave the event not long after Hemant and Edwin’s speeches. I missed the “de-baptism” held later; formerly baptized theists were passed over with a large hair dryer, then given a certificate of their newly de-baptized state. I missed out on the certificate, but I did get a free shirt from American Atheists. It espouses the general, non-confrontational message of the event:

Who is best prepared to deal with a severe economic depression?

Based on the work of educator and author Ruby Payne, the best survivors in difficult economic times might be those who are in the lowest economic class, those in “generational poverty.” Payne has spent her career studying the mindsets of economic classes and studying the best methods for crossing socioeconomic lines in education, work, and for social change. Her best known work is A Framework for Understanding Poverty (1998).

To understand Payne, it is important to understand her distinction between generational poverty and situational poverty.

Generational poverty [as opposed to situational poverty] is defined as two or more generations living in poverty. People in generational poverty exhibit certain ingrained patterns of behavior. These patterns are the result of having experienced the effects of poverty over time. The behaviors are part of their culture. For this reason, even though these individuals tend to have a much lower level of educational attainment, they do tend to have better coping and life skills than those in situational poverty.

The above is from a college outline produced by Kerri McCormack.

According to Payne, there are, indeed, class distinctions here in America and there is much more to these class distinctions than the amount of money the people possessed. We are each driven by a set of “hidden rules” that drive us along like psychological tectonic plates.

Hidden rules are the unspoken cues that dictate behavior. But these hidden rules apply to much more than just behaviors and actions. They are part of the culture of each socioeconomic class. These hidden rules are the basis for how individuals make decisions. For example, in the middle class, the driving forces for decision-making are work and achievement. In the wealthy class, decisions are based upon social, financial, and political connections. In generational poverty, survival, relationships, and entertainment are the forces that determine decisions.

What are some specific “hidden rules”? Payne has identified many of them (and this list is, again, from the McCormack Outline). They sound stereotypical, but they also ring true to me.

Food – Quantity vs. quality
Wealthy – The presentation of the food, making it aesthetically appealing, is what is important
Middle Class – The quality of the food is what is important
Generational Poverty – It is about quantity; having enough is what matters

Fighting – How conflicts are resolved
Wealthy – Done through social exclusion and lawyers
Middle Class – Done verbally; issues are discussed
Generational Poverty – Done physically with fists and bodies

The World – How individuals see themselves in the world
Wealthy – Part of the international / global world
Middle Class – National; staying within the continent
Generational Poverty – Local; rarely leaving the state or even the county

Possessions – What is important to own
Wealthy – One-of-a-kind objects, legacies, and pedigrees
Middle Class – Material items (cars, electronic gadgets, clothes, etc.)
Generational Poverty – People and relationships

Love and Acceptance – What determines love and acceptance
Wealthy – Whether the individual is connected and has social standing
Middle Class –Achievements and success
Generational Poverty –Whether the individual is liked

The images this list triggers for me are startling (and humorous). Imagine, during a severe depression, the class of people who have previously coped by drawing on their social prestige and constantly relying on their cell phones and wealth to get others to work for them. Compare the people with such a “wealthy” mindset with those who have had to fend for themselves for their entire lifetimes. There will be a steep learning curve only for the former.

The question, again, is who is best prepared to survive a severe and extended economic hardship? I’m writing this post to point out the irony. When a depression hits hard, those of us who are middle or upper class might find it worth our while to study the coping skills of those who have already proved themselves by surviving generational poverty.

It’s not that the middle and upper classes have nothing to contribute during desperate times. According to Payne’s theory, people of moderate or extreme wealth would be best placed to make long range changes regarding extended economic depression because they aren’t fatalistic (those in generational poverty tend to be fatalistic) and they tend to see beyond the immediate present (those in generational poverty have difficulty doing this).

Today, my daughters and I had the opportunity to observe two male langurs fighting and then reconciling at the St. Louis Zoo today. First of all, here’s the fight (this is the tale end of a rough play session that turned noticeably unpleasant–the entire episode lasted about 3 minutes):

About 2 minutes after these langurs ceased fighting, I saw what clearly appeared to be a reconcilation. Here’s the progression. For most of the two minutes immediately following the fight, one of the langurs parked himself about 3 inches from me (separated by plexiglass). I wondered whether he was pouting or, maybe, whether he was a bit hurt. He looked to be checking out his foot.

After 2 minutes, he hopped up to a outcropping to join the other langur, where the two fighting langurs hugged for about 60 seconds.

I not certain I know how to interpret what happened next, but here’s the photo. It appeared to be of a sexual nature or, perhaps, grooming.

Langurs are marvelously athletic creatures. They bounce around in their enclosure, sometimes causing themselves to bounce off of the Plexiglas. They can jump up cliffs and grab ropes and swing without any apparent fear or effort. Check out the toes of the langur, which are much longer then the langur’s fingers.

I found this fight/reconcile exchange to be fascinating, especially in light of Frans de Waal’s discovery that primates often reconcile. He noted that these reconciliations often involve an expression of sexuality. I assume that this is what happened today.

I know that pre-written store-bought greeting cards are not the cause of America’s current downfall, but they are a symptom of America’s cultural, moral and educational decline. Really. I know that many of you are thinking that I’m way off base here, but let me give you a few examples based on today’s trip to my local grocery store (the name of the St. Louis grocery chain is “Schnucks”).

First of all, I just don’t get why we need to segregate “boy” cards from “girl” cards. Take a look at these cards for boys and you won’t be surprised at the themes. There are lots of superhero cards and other action/adventure characters and themes.

Now compare the “boys” cards to the “girls” cards, where you’ll find princesses and other characters much more concerned about their looks than with their accomplishments.

As if girls don’t enjoy superhero stories (my daughters certainly do) or anything other than trying to look pretty. This greeting card sexual segregation reminds me of this recent post on America’s rampant sexualization of young girls.

There are also cards for men and cards for women, of course, and they too are segregated. Why do we use greeting cards to instill a message into our girls and women that they should be interested in their own looks and body image to the exclusion of their accomplishments? This destructive message should be stopped immediately, especially when so many girls are getting messed up by this message, which causes them to stop taking their education seriously when they hit puberty.

There are other problems on the greeting card aisle. Consider the sympathy cards.

If someone close to me were to die, the last thing in the world that I would want from anybody would be a store-bought greeting card with a campy message.

Sending a card instead of writing me a note (or in e-mail) tells me that you would rather spend four dollars to let a stranger write a message then taking the time to communicate something meaningful. I suspect that many people will think that greeting cards are perfectly OK because many customers are not professional writers and they are, therefore, and incapable of precisely expressing themselves on emotional occasions. I think this argument is absolute garbage. The purpose of a note should be to take some time to attempt to express one’s own thoughts. If people are unwilling to take the time to write notes of their own, it’s better that they said nothing at all.  Just send a $4.00 gift certificate. It will accomplish as much or more. (more…)

Frans de Waal was recently interviewed by Stephen J. Dubner in the Freakonomics blog of the NYT. Dubner co-authored Freakonomics with Steven D. Levitt. De Waal and Dubner discussed the ramifications of an experiment where capuchin monkeys received either a grape or a piece of cucumber in return for a simple task.

If both monkeys got the same reward, there never was a problem. Grapes are by far preferred (as real primates, like us, they go for sugar content), but even if both received cucumber, they’d perform the task many times in a row.

However, if they received different rewards, the one who got the short end of the stick would begin to waver in its responses, and very soon start a rebellion by either refusing to perform the task or refusing to eat the cucumber.

This is an “irrational” response in the sense that if profit-maximizing is what life (and economics) is about, one should always take what one can get. Monkeys will always accept and eat a piece of cucumber whenever we give it to them, but apparently not when their partner is getting a better deal. In humans, this reaction is known as “inequity aversion.”

I actually don’t think the response is irrational at all, but related to the fact that in a cooperative system, one needs to watch what kind of investment one makes and what one gets in return. If your partners always ends up getting a greater share, this means that you’re being taken advantage of. So, the rational thing to do is withhold cooperation until the reward division improves.

This holds an important message for American society which is becoming less fair by the day. . . If monkeys already have trouble accepting income inequality, you can imagine what it does to us. It creates great tensions within a society.

The post indicates that the U.S. now ranks 42 in longevity rating, suggesting that the increasing inequity in the U.S. is a contributing factor. The WashPo article linked to the blog post indicates that “Forty countries, including Cuba, Taiwan and most of Europe had lower infant mortality rates than the U.S. in 2004.”

For more on this study, which was done with Sarah Brosnan, see the DI post: Is it really possible to be unselfish?

Tragedy struck our family suddenly, as it sometimes does, with no real warning signs or portents. One moment, contentment, a morning ritual of oatmeal and coffee, conversation about daily plans, and then a new moment - horror, blood, panic, and my oatmeal bowl in mid-air, suspended. That instant, so short so brutal, shattered us. Driving, driving to the animal emergency clinic - is this too fast? This is too slow - get in that lane - stave off panic, full of dread and fear, breathe in, breathe out dare to hope. So sorry, so sorry, no words to capture the sorrow.

The history - years of love and effort and training with a much loved but unpredictable dog with and for whom we worked so hard (not hard enough?), and a greatly treasured older cat who ruled our home like a feisty queen, and from whom the dog always backed down, isn’t the point here. But that history was the the fabric of our home, our life. Much effort, so much love and constant awareness. Years and years of vigilance, training and exercise wasn’t enough, and now we lose two beloved beings in one short time. We live with that, we grieve, we work to move beyond remorse and guilt.

During one of the many trips to the hospital, (so many, an eternity in a few days) I think - this is why we need a heaven. This yearning to know that loss isn’t how we end, that there is some goodness waiting to counter this searing pain. That hope would help with my sorrow, with my anger, with my guilt and regret. To know that my beings will live again, free of pain, happy. To be sure that the damage led to perfection. My yearning tastes of tears, so sorry, no words.

I don’t think the biggest difference between people is a belief in God or not. I know too many people who seek God who are also full of compassion, kindness and a desire to help themselves and others. I know too many atheists who are strident and arrogant, and I also can say the opposite. For me the two are different languages that ask the same question - how do we live with compassion and openness. What gives us meaning in the midst of suffering, what helps us to grow? Both stances can do that, and sometimes neither - thus the question of which is better is flawed.

During all this pain (because of it?) I thought a lot about the discussion on this site regarding friendship between god people and non-god people. What I seek in friendship and connection is simply connection and a desire for compassion and understanding. I expect an ability to build a bridge between difference, regardless of the material. When a person is so attached to a belief that it becomes a bludgeon and a barrier to understanding, the belief itself causes a problem, but isn’t the problem. Attachment is the problem, as it so often is. We cling to things that comfort us in the face of the unknown, or in the midst of pain. That clinging is human, but it can hold us back from becoming, from learning, from peace. When we think we already have truth in our back pocket we can’t learn any more, and then we are limited. We can be so attached to what we know we may miss the truth before us.

My yearning for an afterlife where my beloved beings are happy and beyond the pain comes from such an attachment. I grieve for myself, for my loss, for my regret as much as I grieve for their suffering and dying. Eventually I must let go of my guilt and anger, and sorrow - they steal my present, and tarnish my memories. They take my joy, and there was so much shared. We had good lives together, and now, even after they are gone, they are helping me understand. For that I am grateful.

Can those who believe in God be good friends with those who don’t believe in God?

A fellow named Martin raised this intriguing point about a week ago here.  He suggested that a person who doesn’t believe in God cannot possibly have a real friendship, a deep friendship, with someone who claims to believe in God.  As I understood Martin’s point it’s absurd to claim a belief in God; it’s so incredibly absurd that a nonbeliever cannot ever fully trust a believer. In Martin’s view, in order to be true friends, believers need to quit saying those absurd claims about miracles and invisible Beings.  And those believers need to stop claiming that they know things that they don’t know.   According to Martin, it’s simply not worth it to try to maintain a friendship with people who claim to believe in gods and angels.  The craziness exhibited by believers (regardless of all of their other redeeming social values) is a huge roadblock even the possibility of friendship.

I think I understand Martin’s concern.  I’m a people who has a smaller number of deeper friendships compared to many other people.  I’ve been told that I’m discriminating in my friendships and that’s likely true.  I readily admit that I make myself less available to people with whom I have less in common.  I admit further that I have often written off the possibility of friendship with some people based upon various beliefs they hold, despite the fact that such people are, in many ways, honorable and decent human beings. 

Sometimes, strong beliefs of people are just just too much for me–they overwhelm the relationship.  I’ve felt this way about most fundamentalists and most Neocons, for example.  I’ve called off a few friendships when the friend started adopting Neocon beliefs uncritically.

Are mild religious beliefs totally inert–self-contained in the psyche?  No. I assume that troublesome belief-systems (troublesome to me), though they might lie hidden, latent and relatively unexamined, are likely to permeate that person’s thinking in many subtle (and not-so-subtle) ways.  Thus, I too have had thoughts like those Martin expressed in his comments.  In some cases I have concluded that any friendship I might have with some people with troublesome beliefs (troublesome to me) might be a pretend friendship, not a real one. I have such thoughts accompanied by the thought that there’s many fish in the sea.  Why in the world would I want to work so hard to maintain a friendship with Neocons when I could have a much easier and more satisfying friendship with someone without all that Neocon baggage?

I part ways with Martin in an important respect.  In response to Martin’s comments here, I tried to draw the distinction between fundamentalists and religious moderates.  Although I have very few deep friendships with fundamentalists, I have numerous good friendships with religious moderates.  For most religious moderates, their belief in God is often compartmentalized–it seems to take them over for about one hour per week (on Sunday morning) and then it’s all over, except for occasional ritualistic prayers over meals. They don’t believe that the Bible is mostly literal truth. Most of them don’t regularly read the Bible.   They (as Daniel Dennett argued) believe in belief, rather in the things they utter–they think they’re supposed to believe in the things they say at church.  But they don’t actually consider those things carefully, certainly not as closely as they consider how to invest their money in the stock market or as closely as they ponder the pro’s and con’s of their favorite sports team.  Many of them (and many clergy who lead them) are closet agnostics.  Away from their churches, one-on-one, I constantly hear them admitting that they don’t actually know those things they proclaim in church.  In fact, most of them readily admit (again, away from their respective churches) that they disbelieve many of the things they proclaim in church. (more…)

Periodically, I become a bit disoriented in the swirl of life, which gives rise to the question: “Who am I?” 

We aren’t static beings, of course.  We are complex adaptive systems, communities of relatively simple cellular life that number in the trillions.  Many of “our” cells (in fact, the great majority of them) don’t even have our DNA.  All of our cells are in constant motion, haunting us with the notion, raised many years ago by Heraclitus, that everything is in such flux that there is no stable version of “it” or “me.”  Everything that looks to be permanent is, according to his outlook, an illusion.

That the physical matter that constitutes us is so intricately linked by causality goes so far as to taunt our treasured notions of free thought and “free will.” Where, then, might one find some sort of stability during such existentially disoriented moments? 

Here’s how I approach the issue.  I take it as true that we are, indeed, complex adaptive systems (I’m not horrified by this idea as are some people—it just is).  I take it, then, that we are complex systems in motion and that it is thus impossible for us to maintain a stable ground of reference. 

This doesn’t mean that we can’t have meaningful connections with other people, however.  It just means that we move through time and space as a system of systems, as a knitted configuration of sentient beings who might eternally struggle to find a fixed meaning (if they don’t listen up!), but who can find stability in the geometry of their social frameworks.  “We the people” is a dependably stable entity, even though “I,” the individual, sometimes wobble about.  Richard Nisbett has much to say about the social context determining the individual.  Underlying his writings is the need to beware of the fundamental attribution error.

This eternal flux of the human condition, combined with the possibility of forming durable friendships, might lead to a solution of sorts (small “s”).  

Who are you?  Look around and notice the people who you consider to be your friends.  Take your closest 10 friends, or maybe your closest 50 if you’d like (but don’t pretend that you have more than 150 friends).  What do you see when you consider them as a group that has you in common?   Are they admirable?  Do they give you positive energy?  Does your group have sufficient diversity to stretch you and provoke you to be better at being you?   I’ve written before of the importance of close friends in their service as your private Greek chorus, your private advisory jury (see the comments here).  And each of you, of course, reciprocates by serving as a “mirror” for the benefit of your friends. 

I think of my approach as “social relativity.”  For me, there is no absolute and well-defined social state of rest; there is no privileged reference frame for determining who we are.  The trick is to generate a static frame of reference within a dynamic whole, never being fooled that one’s frame is more than a momentary placating heuristic.  What I’m suggesting is quite a tenuous form of stability, of course.  But maybe it’s all we’ve got.

Tonight is one of those nights when I am taking a breath from a happily tumultuous couple of weeks, in order to ask myself “Who am I?”   I am truly blessed with worthy friends (as blessed as any agnostic could be).   Over these past few weeks, I am glad that I have taken the time to reconnect with some of the people who have been important to me at various junctures during my curious journey through life.

So thank you, my friends, for helping me find my way back home tonight!

I am cynical about the day called Father’s Day.   For most of my life, I have seen it as yet another store-sponsored holiday.  America traditionally “celebrates” Father’s Day by buying trinkets from a store.   I can’t think of a better way to degrade any occasion.

Father’s Day has become something much more meaningful to me since I became a father, but it is not about receiving trinkets bought at stores. I write this fully aware that there are other, more comprehensive, ways of interpreting the trinkets.

What is it to be a father?  Like most things in life, being a father is not about being brilliant.  It’s mostly about pacing yourself.  It’s about staying reasonably focused over the long-haul.  It’s about dealing with fatigue.  It’s been about repeatedly saying “no” to one’s momentary desires in order to accomplish something much more important in the long run.

I envisioned this blog to be a place for ideas.  For that reason, I’ve minimized revealing much information about my family.  It’s not that I’m not crazy about my family. I am.  I adore my wife and children.  It’s just that I’ve tried to respect their privacy. Then again, writing about events from six years ago doesn’t quite seem quite so invasive.  Therefore, I’m using this post about my real life children to illustrate the idea of parenthood.

It is true that being a father is about bringing home a paycheck to feed and clothes little children.   Therefore, being a father can sometimes be a lonely pursuit; there are days and nights where I dream of being home, but I just can’t be there.  I might be taking depositions in a city far away or I might just be stuck writing legal memoranda a mere five miles from home.  Why do fathers crank so hard for so many long hours at the office?  I’m not going to pretend that being a provider is the only reason, but it is an important reason.  I wouldn’t work as hard as I do were I not a father.  I am intensely driven by a thought: I don’t want to embarrass myself by failing to provide for my children. 

Being a father draws on numerous other skills too.  I’m called on to be a teacher, coach, referee, clown, counselor, banker, cook, nanny, chauffeur and, yes, “parent.”  It’s hard to describe what it is to be a parent to those who aren’t.  When my wife and I were thinking of adopting a little girl, I asked several competent-seeming parents what it meant to be a parent.  They consistently told me that parenting is incredibly exhausting yet equally rewarding.  Descriptions like that made me apprehensive, of course.  

When we were thinking about adopting a child, I was apprehensive about having children.  I thought that they would be expensive, time-consuming, exhausting and annoying and that they would keep me for accomplishing other goals I had set for myself.  This has turned out to be entirely true, of course.  Being a good parent is necessarily time-consuming.  There are no short-cuts to spending long stretches of quality time with your children.  However, there is something else to know about having children. It has to do with the reward of being a parent.   Being a parent addressed a deep need I didn’t know I had. 

In August 1999, my wife (Anne) and I adopted a little girl in Wuhan, China.  Her name is Ju-Ju.”  Here’s the amazing thing:  after resisting the idea of having a child, I found myself enthralled and fascinated to be the father of little JuJu.  In fact, only three months after bringing JuJu home from China, I clamored to adopt a sister for JuJu.  We jumped on that second round of adoption paperwork, and eventually we adopted Charlotte in March 2001 in Hunan, China. 

For this “Father’s Day” post, I’d like to mention one other thing.   A friend of mine (who sometimes shows up on this blog under a pseudonym) gave me advice about how to be a good parent.  He said that there was only one rule:  “You need to listen to your children.  And by listen, I mean you need to take the time to really actively listen to your children so that you know who they are. Everything else will fall in place if you follow this one rule.”  I’ve found that when I follow this rule, everything else does fall in place.  That is my advice, too, to anyone considering becoming a parent.  (more…)

We of “Cardinal Nation” here in St. Louis suffered the loss of relief pitcher Josh Hancock this last weekend. In case you haven’t heard, he was killed when he crashed his SUV full-speed into the back of a tow-truck on the highway. The tow truck was stopped, lights blazing in the dark, assisting a disabled motorist in the left lane. Only a few nights earlier, Mr. Hancock had crashed his car, walking away from that late-night accident unharmed but reporting to the ballpark late the next day due to having overslept.

Hmmmm. Does anyone else see something fishy going on here? Single 29-yr.-old athlete crashing his car late at night . . . . twice in one week.

We in Cardinal Nation are also being cautioned against jumping to any conclusions, even though several witnesses reported seeing the deceased drinking shortly before the accident, including one person who said that he couldn’t put sentences together and a bartender who offered to call him a cab, but he refused to accept that offer. We are being chastised for even mentioning that perhaps this was something more dastardly than a tragic accident.

While I understand that nothing about the circumstances of the accident can change the fact that this is a horrific loss for the team and for Hancock’s family and friends, I can’t imagine that anyone will be remotely surprised when the autopsy results show his blood alcohol content to far exceed the legal limit.

Less than two years ago, someone very close to me was in an eerily similar accident. He was speeding down the highway late at night and rammed into the back of a car stopped because of another accident. Fortunately, no one was seriously hurt. He suffered cuts and bruises, some seriously wounded pride, a vicious hangover, the aggravation of a totalled vehicle and not a small amount of public humiliation, as he is also a fairly well-known person in our fair city. As he should have, because what he did was insanely stupid. I know all too well what he risked. I know who would have been most harmed by his actions had we not quickly taken my children out of town so they wouldn’t witness any aspect of the media circus. He, being the father of said children, risked our family in ways for which I still probably haven’t completely forgiven him. But he worked hard to turn himself around, and for that I give him full credit. He made a serious error in judgment, and thankfully he learned from his mistake.

Sadly, Josh Hancock won’t have that chance. His young life vanished in one incredibly stupid move. Take the cab, Josh!!! For God’s sake, why didn’t you take the cab???

Because he was impaired. He drank too much to think clearly. (Nope, not starting a rumor, just stating what we all know is going to be proven to be true). But he was a Cardinal, so he got served. He was a Cardinal, so no one said, NO, Josh, you may not drive. Give us your keys, Josh. Dammit, I don’t care if you think you can drive, you can’t even focus your eyes. We’ll take care of your car. No, Mr. Hancock, I’m sorry, we can’t let you leave in your condition unless we see you get in someone else’s car. We served you this alcohol, but we cannot let you drive now that you’ve consumed it.

I’m all about personal responsibility, folks, but c’mon. When are we going to take care of each other when it really matters? How did all these friends and acquaintances and employees of Mike Shannon’s, where he was partying, see him drunk, know he was drunk, and STILL let him get in a car by himself and drive away? Was not one single person there sober enough to say - STOP?

As for all of those so quick to jump to his defense and insist we not besmirch his memory with this talk of drunk driving, I ask you this. Do you really think Josh would mind if we used him as an example? Don’t you bet, if given his druthers, he’d choose to be stopped and stripped of his keys instead of winding up dead? Don’t you think he’d say, “You damned well better use me as example - I know now how stupid it was, and I sure as hell don’t want this to ever happen to anyone else. Hold me up as the ugly picture of what happens when decent people make really lousy choices, and do everything in your power not to let this happen to anyone else’s son or daughter. I’m so, so sorry.”

Let’s pay attention this time.

I’ve taken something of an accidental hiatus from the blog the past few months. “Real life” responsibilities left me rather distracted, and without a word, I “disappeared” from the face of the earth, as far as everyone at Dangerous Intersection knew anyway. Or, in my view, Dangerous Intersection perhaps “disappeared” from my radar. Either way, a community of people with whom I had communicated, traded knowledge and ideas suddenly vanished from the world entirely, and I from it. Because DI does not occupy the real world in any tangible sense for me, when I neglected it, it nigh did cease to exist. And likewise, I did not exist to the people who have known me only through it.

This concept got me thinking about the expanse of telecommunications we have in our hands, and what it may mean for real human relationships. Can we define faraway, supposed acquaintances who can vanish from our knowledge at any time (as I did) as “friends”? And, as this post’s title muses, what happens to my online network of psuedobuddies when I leave, or die?

I don’t mean to downplay the potential of online communication. People made due for centuries maintaining meaningful relationships with mere pen-pals, using a far less forgiving medium and time-frame. I think of the letters exchanged between the likes of Thomas Jefferson and John Adams, for years upon years, across many miles, maintaining a friendship and respect nearly across the grave, as it turned out. Thus it can clearly happen that long-distance, barely-seen friends can have an impact on one another and form a meaningful bond.

If anything, the internet has expanded that possibility and given us all more access to other people- their work, their photos, their hobbies (like blogging or photography), their fanatic rantings. The immediacy of modern communication can give us more and more intimate long-distance friends. So much so, that we may feel we actually know these people, these identities constructed by the very individual (think of flatteringly-altered photos, omitted details on profiles, and the like).

But perhaps the intimacy comes on too quickly, and without warrant. It appears that psychologically, a screen and a few hundred miles can make us all more forthcoming with out brand new “friends” online. When psychologists want to study touchy issues- like drug use or less-accepted sex practices- they favor computer-administered surveys over oral interviews or even paper questionnaires. Something about that screen makes us open up and feel comfortable enough to divulge the gory details of our lives, apparently.
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Jonathan Chait of Common Dreams raises a good question: why do Republicans disagree with climate scientists more at a time when climate scientists are accruing new terrifying evidence that human activities are truly responsible for warming the atmosphere? 

Last year, the National Journal asked a group of Republican senators and House members: “Do you think it’s been proven beyond a reasonable doubt that the Earth is warming because of man-made problems?” Of the respondents, 23% said yes, 77% said no . . . So, the magazine asked the question again last month. The results? Only 13% of Republicans agreed that global warming has been proved.

As the evidence for global warming gets stronger, Republicans are actually getting more skeptical. . . . How did it get this way? The easy answer is that Republicans are just tools of the energy industry. It’s certainly true that many of them are. . . But the financial relationship doesn’t quite explain the entirety of GOP skepticism on global warming. For one thing, the energy industry has dramatically softened its opposition to global warming over the last year, even as Republicans have stiffened theirs.

The truth is more complicated — and more depressing: A small number of hard-core ideologues (some, but not all, industry shills) have led the thinking for the whole conservative movement . . .Conservatives defer to a tiny handful of renegade scientists who reject the overwhelming professional consensus.

In other words, the thinking process of most Republicans is worse than random.   How is it that more evidence for global warming makes Republicans less convinced?  Chait’s article suggests Republicans are merely being obstinate.  There is a deeper explanation, however, and it has to do with the multiple functions of language.  First, start with the assumption that denying global warming is bad science.  Start there, but don’t end the inquiry there.  Continue the analysis by treating the denial of global warming as dogma. 

Dogma wears two hats.  First of all, dogmatic words can convey literal meaning that often flies in the face of the evidence.  Consider religious dogma, for instance.   That Mary was a “virgin” is nonsensical; it is even self-disproving.  So why say such a thing?  The answer relates to dogma’s second function: dogma facilitates bonding. 

The assertion of group-approved-nonsense looks and sounds ridiculous to outsiders, but uttering it loudly in the presence of one’s group proves one’s loyalty to those insiders.  The more nonsensical the dogma is, the tighter the bond it is capable of generating among those willing to utter it.  Consider, for instance, the correlation of the absurdity of the dogma and the strength of bonding in Unitarians (less absurd, less bonded) and Mormons (more absurd, more bonded).

Uttering officially-approved nonsense in front of one’s group identifies one as a bona fide member of that group.  Uttering absurd things is a display that one desires to be a member of that group so incredibly much that one is willing to utter the sorts of things that will trigger social ridicule from learned outsiders.  It’s a social version of the peacock’s tail–a display much like the the types of things Darwin pointed out in his theory of sexual selection.  It’s saying “I am willing to pay the price of saying this idiotic thing in order to prove my loyalty to the group.”  It’s a group “badge.” See here , here and here. There are non-verbal versions of dogma too.  Letting one’s pants droop to expose underwear can be a strong sign of group loyalty on the streets; piercing sensitive parts of one’s body facilitates bonding among the like-minded in high schools.

Therefore, uttering nonsensical dogma is not primarily about conveying the truth of the matter asserted. Rather, it’s about sending out a sonar signal in order to identify allies and enemies.  It is a herding mechanism. (more…)

Below is a link to a blog called 101 Reasons to Stop Writing.  It is a blog about writing and actually does have a list of reasons to stop, which, when one considers the amount of verbiage being generated by the human race, might seem like an impossible challenge.  Those of us with presumptions to actually be  writers–professional, that is, receiving coin for our sentences–are afflicted, I think, with a singular mix of obsession and insecurity. 

There is, however, no Twelve-Step Program for us, and even if there were, the initial admittance–that we are powerless to control the urge to run out streams of words on the off-chance someone might actually read them (or, more, enjoy them)–means for us that we are subsequently powerless to continue with the 12-step.  But, on the other hand, explaining our affliction, paradoxically, feeds the monkey–more words.  And explaining to each other about our affliction sustains us in times when we feel ignored by those who only read what we write.  We are subject to puzzled bemusement by people who “don’t understand”; made sometimes to feel guilty by people who want us to come out and play who, when told we are busy writing, complain that we’re not doing anything.

Writing requires both solitude and congeniality–to write about people, we must know them, but we are by nature prone to misanthropy.  The more we know people, sometimes, the less we like them, yet we must be sympathetic lest we ostracize the very public we need to support our habit.

But enough about me.  I have fiction to write.  I shall leave you all with the analysis.

I have a confession. 

If the general consensus is that I should never do this again, I will seriously consider stopping (not that I had ever done this before–see below). I know that the story I am about to relate will disgust and confound some readers. Beware that I am thin-skinned, but don’t hold back.

Here’s the short version.  While in Chicago, my family and I (my wife and I have two daughters, aged six and eight) went to a trendy chocolatier (a store that sells high-priced chocolate).  While at said store, I ate some of the high-priced chocolate left by a customer who had left the store just as we were sitting down.

As I relate this, I am haunted by the Seinfeld episode where George Costanza is caught rummaging through the trash can in the kitchen of a house eating a pastry that someone had thrown away.  My adventure also brings to mind an idea put forth by “Tim,” a friend of mine, who has long argued that all morality starts with what one puts into one’s mouth.

Here’s what happened.  We went to a chocolatier, where my wife ordered a high-priced cup of hot chocolate.  The chocolatier was located on the first floor of an upscale mall that sells lots and lots of things that nobody really needs.  It just so happened that the Lego store was on the second floor of that mall.  That was our true destination when we were distracted by chocolatier’s prominent location.

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I have a friend that is sometimes frustrating to converse with, because he always wants me to define the terms I use.  Our conversation is filled with his requests to explain just what I mean.  He says, with justification, that people may use the same word but often have different meanings for it and he just wants to be sure that he understands what I MEAN to say, not just what I do say.  Take for example, my recent bragging about my 3 year old grandson.

I told this friend that the boy had learned to read, and used for illustration the fact that he could read and write a number of random words and when presented with a new book, could pick out those words and ‘read’ them (it doesn’t work to try him on books he’s familiar with, he’s got those memorized).  I pointed out that reading is not sounding out every word, and that we must be able to recognize a word immediately on sight.  Many are familiar with the little test that has gone around the internet for some years, proving we aren’t quickly sounding out every word, but rather recognizing it on sight, and even then, with mostly only a few letters of the word.  For example:

Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at an Elingsh uinervtisy, it deosn’t mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoetnt tihng is taht frist and lsat ltteer is at the rghit pclae. The rset can be a toatl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae we do not raed ervey lteter by it slef but the wrod as a wlohe.

I pointed out the child knows all his alphabet, can make the sounds associated with all letters, and recognizes on sight some 50 words, and can write at least 30 of them (the others he doesn’t always know how to spell).  Voila- a reading genius.  But he had me stumped when he asked if my grandson could sound out and then recognize a word he didn’t already know.  After thinking about it overnight, I came to the conclusion that my definition of reading must include both:  the ability to recognize certain words immediately on sight, and the ability to read new ones when they arise (and no, he can’t do that yet, so he’s not yet reading).

Even the simpliest words leave room for lots of misunderstanding.   It’s all about semantics. Semantics is not a little problem.  Not only can confusing the semantics frustrate understanding between individuals, between corporations, between governments, but for those people who like to have insight into themselves, it frustrates our understanding of ourselves.   Take for example, my most recent difficulty with the simple word “Happy.”

I read with interest Erich’s post: Are you happy?  I read this post at the end of a very frustrating day (week/month/year) when I was particularly stressed about my failure to reach a certain goal and the outside influences that prevented me reaching it.  I was so frustrated at what parts felt to be completely outside my control, and guilty about the parts I might have controlled better, that I had cried, and was in a darn lousy mood.  Everyone was lucky I live alone!  But then I got into a discussion with another friend about what being happy meant.  I didn’t feel UNhappy at the time, although to hear me whining and complaining and trying hard not to cry, one would think I was miserably unhappy.   I wasn’t pleased with things, but I still had my place in the sun, so to speak.  Still had a decent apartment, good transportation to get there, a job I loved, family I love and that loves me and the list goes on and on.

I decided I wanted a word to describe how I felt underneath, even with all the frustrations of life.  I wanted a word that would include my dark visions- what I consider to be realistic negative outlooks (i.e. politicians will always be corrupt as long as we have the current campaign finance rules, children in this country are getting poorer and sicker while the rich get even richer, etc.) but still acknowledge that I am a very fortunate woman indeed. 

 I looked up the definition of the word ‘joy.’  Wikipedia defines it as: “an emotion of great happiness.”  I wasn’t very happy (pun intended) with the circular definition.  I wanted a word that described a state of inner serenity that one can possess despite the cares of the world, despite occasional unresolved conflicts with family, friends or professional associates, despite some unmet physical need (i.e. trying to pay my car insurance!).  I haven’t found it, but for now I’m going to use the word Joy.  “Joy” is especially meaningful to me because that is what I named my daughter many years ago.

So when I say “Joy,” I’m going to mean that despite the fact that I may be frustrated, that I may be angry, I may be sad, at some situation, even situations I can never change, like the deaths of people close to me, I have a deep inner satisfaction with my life, what I’ve done with it (mistakes and all), and wouldn’t trade it for another without the pain (like that really exists).

If anyone has another word that expresses this inner condition, I would love to hear it.  In the meantime, I wish you all great joy.

I know, a catchy title.  A little unfair maybe, since there’s nothing particularly titillating in what follows.  Or maybe there is, depending on what–what’s the saying?–”pumps yer nads!”   But in view of Erich’s post about our newly appointed head of Family Planning, I thought this might be the time to indulge more than a little in a topic rather close to my heart (depending on where one locates said metaphorical organ).

Did you know that the last week of October is national Protection From Pornography Week?  Yes, indeed, signed into law by our illustrious president, Mr. Bush back in 2003.  I for one had no idea I needed to be protected from it.  How reassuring to know that we are being defended from dangers both real and imagined by the ever watchful gaze of our very own homegrown clerics.

We’ve spent tax dollars on this.  Here is the link to the official White House proclamation.

Seems innocuous enough, even homey.  All that stuff about the destructive effects of porn on children, who can argue?

Has it occurred to anyone throughout the last two decades (beginning, in my opinion, with Ed Meese–anyone remember him?) of the war on pornography that–like alcohol and tobacco–pornography is simply not for children?  It seems a ludicrously simple idea to me–it was never intended for them.  We manage to have reasonable laws about things not intended for children.  We don’t let them drive cars (except at amusement parks, in specially constructed rides), we don’t let them drink booze, we don’t allow the sale of tobacco to minors.  They can’t vote, either, because we presume to decide on their level of intelligence and ability to make political statements.  That one may be arguable, but…    

We don’t allow children to sign contracts.  We don’t let them in to see “R” rated movies without a parent or guardian.  Technically, children aren’t allowed to have credit cards, but sometimes that one slips through the cracks.

Point being, we manage these other prohibitions quite handily.  Occasionally something goes wrong, but we have a system for dealing with it that doesn’t require a national week signed into effect by the president.  I mean, we don’t have a National Protection From Contracts Week detailing how contracts have debilitating effects on families and children (especially children, oh, those poor innocents who cannot defend themselves from the deprivations of over-zealous loan officers and contract litigators!).

The other side of this is, however, perhaps a little more contentious.  We don’t allow children to participate in all this stuff, but we make an assumption that adults may, can, and that there is, for the most part, nothing wrong with it! 

So why do we need this Protection From Porn Week? 

Well, it’s not aimed at children.  With all that child sexual exploitation is an evil thing and no sensible adult would allow that it’s not, the target here is not to protect children.  It’s not even to protect.  The target is Sex.

Since the Sixties there has been a war going on in this country about the public function of Sex in our society.  I won’t here detail that war–we sell products with it, but we can’t actually sell the thing itself (except in certain places under strict licensing etc.); we all like to be sexy, even when we don’t admit it, but we don’t necessarily want to follow through on the implications, i.e. have sex commensurate with the degree of sexiness we like to pretend to; sex is one of the most wanted things we have, yet there is a perverse urge to deny it to others when we deem it inappropriate (or even when it is appropriate, just public).  The war has taken on all the canny subterfuge and annoying intangibility of the worst aspects of the Cold War, which I think is an ironic if apt comparison.  After all, the Cold War was as much about ideas as about actions.

Attorney General John Ashcroft spent $80,000 on a curtain to hide the tits of Justice so television viewers wouldn’t be offended.

Who really was?  We’ve been looking at public nudity like that for two centuries.  Except for a few extreme crackpots, I don’t know of anyone who ever seriously complained–because we have all made the distinction between nudity and sexuality in these instances.  I mean, no one seriously gets turned on by the nakedness of Justice.  Do they? (more…)

For a short time, I watched a few of the “forensic science” shows like CSI, mostly for a laugh at the junk science.  I was particularly amused at the tool used to analyze metal.  The actor put a hub cap in a plexiglass box, the box was filled with smoke or mist, and the printer spewed out paper.  On that paper were the exact components of the metal, so much of this, so much of that.  Then the formulation was compared to their list of hub cap manufacturers, and lo and behold, there were two retail distributors of that brand hub cap in the city.  It was hilarious, like Lucy stuffing her shirt with chocolates from the speeding assembly line and about as likely.

I’ve stopped watching those shows, partly because they can only create so many magic plexiglass boxes, and because they’re so gory (regurgitated by a large snake was the end for me).  I also read a (true) story of a lawsuit involving lost ashes of a loved one (cremains) and the two got me thinking about our funeral customs.

There are really some odd customs, and chief among them for me, since I have to face them repeatedly (one bad thing about getting old is that your friends and family are old, too, and you lose a lot of them), is our ‘dress up’ custom.  That is where we take a body, dress it up in special clothes (sometimes bought new for the occasion, sometimes picked out by the deceased before his/her demise), paint it up with LOTS of makeup (men and women both, you’d be amazed at how pale your complexion gets when you die), shave the men and style the hair.  Then we put it in a silk lined box with a pillow (?), so we can all file by, remarking on the wonderful appearance of the deceased.  They even put glasses on the corpse.  If you wear contacts, why not put those in, they would serve the same purpose.  And the dressed up body in the box is just the part we see. (more…)

I’ve been thinking about this since the initial post on our biases and all the responses.  In the course of trying to come up with an “appropriate” response to the world, we often find ourselves caught up in endless exception-making, fudging, attempts to shoehorn certain proclivities and habits into convenient moulds so we don’t go through our days constantly flinching at our inadvertant insensitivities. 

Does it do any good?  The flinching?  I mean, after the Sixties, one had to have been living on Mars for half a century not to be aware that there had been a Big Shift away from what might be called Gross Cultural Reliance to a more nuanced approach which has been (often derisively) termed Political Correctness.  The former is a condition wherein one “borrows” wholesale from the culture to make associational choices.  It doesn’t occur in this instance to question the wisdom of the culture–it’s what it is, and we are part of it, ergo…

But we realized that the Culture At Large was in many ways an Idiot.  It stepped on people.  It made too little room for variation.  It tried to be all things to all people, but it was necessary that all people somehow be The Same in order for that to work.  Those with a vested interest in keeping everything the same mightily resisted movement to change the rules.

We never did come up with a solid formulation that allows for prejudice.

You have to, you know.  What we ended up with was a vague, flat dictum that all prejudice is categorically bad.  But like all superlatives, it’s not true.  Nor is it feasible to make it so.

We talked a little about harmful vs harmless prejudice (we said bias, but we all know what we were talking about) and ended up wondering if any prejudice is harmless.  I suppose it depends on how you desribe “harm” to begin with.  If the idea is that everyone ought to be allowed inside every game being played everywhere, regardless of ability, desire, game rules, or the wishes of those already playing, then we have a big problem, and the seeds of profound, continual, and pointless hurt.  To tell little five-year-old Johnny that he can’t play soccer with the fifteen-year-olds just because he’s five may seem heartless, but we all know that not only could he probably not contribute anything to the team he ends up on, but he’s also likely to get smashed up and hurt.

But that’s not the same as saying he can’t play soccer at all.  He’s not barred from the game itself, just from that particular one, and maybe he’ll never be allowed into particular games.  But it’s not the same as being barred from all games.

I know, this sounds awfully like “separate but equal.”  It’s not.  There’s no argument over “equal” in this context.  We already know Johnny isn’t “equal” to the fifteen year olds.

Here’s what I’ve come up with.  We have categories of prejudice.  The one that does the most harm is the arbitrary one based on attributes that cannot be changed.  Skin color, gender, country of origin.  (Obviously I’m simplifying for the sake of some sort of brevity.)  You can lie about your nationality in some cases, but you shouldn’t have to.  Gender can be tinkered with at great expense, but again, why?  Skin color can even be changed, but not the DNA that gave it to you.  Still, why?  Prejudices erected based on these foundations are beyond reason.  If you are shut out of all things because of something you cannot change (at one time, bastardy was part of this) it is tragic and absolutely immoral.

A second category has to do with choices we make.  Political affiliation, diet, religion, etc.  Now it might be argued that some of these things are taught us by so forceful an arbiter as our parents in such a way that they might as well be things we cannot change.  How many people really choose their religions?  (Even if you break away from your so-called “milk faith” it lingers, it stays with you your whole life.)  But there are range of attributes we can and often do change. (more…)

Earlier, I wrote about the tendency of suburbanites to feel they have limited options, and how such a life can seem unfulfilling or failed. At the time, I inspected the personal shortcomings that have a hand in this, as well as the human predisposition to discontentment. But it appears that yet another factor contributes to the often portrayed suburban dread: the structure of the suburbs themselves.

Prior to the Second World War, most suburbs had what architects and city planners call a “traditional” or “mixed-use” structure. Towns of this type have closely arranged, small city blocks intermittent with other amenities such as shops, restaurants, churches, and public buildings such as schools and post offices. To get a better idea of a town of this type, picture the typical conception of a small New England village or city. This traditional structure made pedestrian activity both easy and inviting, claims Andres Duany, one of the authors of Suburban Nation: The Rise of Sprawl and the Decline of the American Dream.

In the 1950’s and beyond, building codes began to prevent such a seamless blend of commerce, public activity, and personal residence from organizing. Most American towns now have much more rigid building codes the divide all the realms of society into isolated sections: a housing district, a shopping center-like area, and government buildings shoved somewhere else. Duany describes the trend this way:

“It’s an architectural version of Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Our neighborhoods are being replaced by soulless alien substitutes. Instead of corner stores, we have Quick Marts. Instead of Main Streets, we have Mega Malls. Fast-food architecture –”McMansions” — sit forlornly along monotonous cul-de-sacs.”

This layout has made the classic “American Dream” all the more difficult. Isolated housing areas breed the sloping, Byzantine neighborhood structures where every house looks the same and the nearest shop lies nearly a mile away down a busy five-lane road. See the the following pictures, which compare a “traditional” neighborhood to a modern suburb (all from Suburban Nation): (more…)