The Sublime Roundabout

I spent a few days in Paris a couple of years ago. While that's certainly not enough time to really get to know a city, especially a city like Paris, I've also spent quite a bit of time getting to know the history of the City of Light, and I find it at once fascinating and hopeful. One of the most interesting chapters of the history of the city lies in Baron Haussmann. His plans for the "renovation" of Paris, which - admittedly - was in pretty rough shape in the mid-1800s (no wonder there were so many riots!) finds parallels throughout history. His motivation was not only to increase the health of the city, but to improve transportation in and around the city. It is perhaps apocryphal that his efforts were designed to help troop movements to quell riots and circumvent barricaded roadways, but it did help with navigation and way-finding, something motorists and tourists would appreciate for generations. In this, he may have been inspired by Sixtus the Fi

I've started paying a little more attention to things regarding the presidential nomination/election. It's heating up, and in a week Iowa will hold the nation's first caucuses (thank you, spell-check, for that one - I don't think I'd have ever gotten that one right!). It's important to realize that these caucuses are not to be mistaken for the Caucasus - which are a mountain range forming a part of the southern border of Europe and the northern border of Asia. So this: Not this: But I digress. This election has focused a lot on the Republican race, which has boiled down to a man whose mouth is so small it's a wonder such horrible things continue to issue forth: And everyone else (not pictured for brevity). The Democratic race, which has not garnered as much attention, because Hillary Clinton, former presidential adviser/First Lady, Senator, and Secretary of State has been the presumptive nominee almost since birth... I mean

HER: What I really wish is that I could freely express my thoughts without fear of hurting you. When I talk to other friends and relatives, I don't have to worry about how they're taking what I've said or if I've hurt them. And that's why it wears me out talking to you. I always have to think about whether or not what I've said hurts you. HIM: Do you talk to your friends the way you talk to me? (extended silence) -fin-

“Hiram was one of those fortunate men who take women seriously. This meant that his life gained an added dimension; unlike the moon, he did not move through the dark night with one hemisphere forever blank, for his association with women brightened it.” Excerpt From: James A. Michener - “Chesapeake.”

This video is very interesting to me: What fascinates me is the way the single-celled organism on the right envelopes the one on the left. These are two incredibly simple organisms, yet they represent the whole of the universe. There's so much going on here that it's just stunning. Consider: these organisms are alive. At what level they are sentient - aware of their own existence - is a matter of conjecture, as we haven't figured out how to communicate with these animals. Yet they are each aware of their surroundings (pun intended) - you can almost feel the panic in the organism on the left as it begins to be consumed, and you can feel the patient persistence on the part of the organism on the right, knowing (?) (!) on some level that it's doing the right thing in taking in this perceptible (?) food... How it knows the other animal is food - how it knows ANYTHING - is just beyond comprehension... Yet, clearly it does. Perhaps by taking the other animal into itse

Life is interesting. I say that a lot. Sometimes it's intended in a good way; other times not so much. But whichever the case, it is never, ever dull. Which, I suppose, is a good thing. Wouldn't want to get bored to death, would I? No. Hell, for me, is not a lake of fire and brimstone. Hell is boredom. Thus, even if it is happy to sit on a cloud and play a harp, if that's all I get to look forward to in the next life, I'll skip it just the same. Went to AZ to visit my sister. She's been in the hospital for about a month due to some health issues. Well, obviously, they're health issues. But these health issues are lingering effects of other, related health issues. If it sounds like I'm being vague, I am - I don't want to get into it too much because it really just makes me sad. But she was looking better, and it was fun to see her light up when we (one of my brothers and a sister came a long with me) walked into the room. We totally surprised her! :)

No one thinks in terms of a proscenium arch any more. Most folks go to a movie theater where they don't even bother covering the screen with a curtain - a practice that was anachronistic when it was a thing. The curtain pulling back to reveal the screen was symbolic of the entering into another world, the idea that we were being given a window into somewhere - sometimes far away, or a long time ago, or in a distant future. This was, of course, begun with stage productions, where there was actual scenery behind the curtain, and pulling back the curtain revealed exciting and tantalizing hints about what we were going to witness. The proscenium arch acted as a window frame for this experience, and they became works of art in their own right, like a gilded frame of a beautiful piece of art. Which, upon reflection, they are. I really don't know much about acting or the theater arts in general. So it's with all humility that I discuss such things. One thing I have learned

I read this article yesterday: http://www.ksl.com/?sid=38103067&nid=151&fm=most_popular&s_cid=popular-4 This is something we hear a lot these days. The future is uncertain, except that hard times will surely come. With the military and terrorist activities in Asia and the Middle East, economic trouble all over the world (just what are the Middle East countries going to do with such a diminished revenue source, what with oil being ~$30/barrel?), and what are we doing about the climate, disease, and other natural and man-made calamities?... All of these concerns and questions can lead to a feeling of anxiety and fear. But I was reminded recently of the famous words from FDR - the only thing we have to fear is fear itself. We are not victims. We do not have to passively accept our situation, either personally or globally. We can take steps to right the ship. And to a certain extent, we are. President Obama in the SOTU address last night said this: America has been thr

This is one of my favorite videos from about 10 years ago... I find it amusing for several different reasons, not all of which are necessarily polite. ;) But here's the thing about bananas - in particular, these Cavendish bananas: they're all clones of one another, carefully selected for their characteristics (length, shelf-life, taste, etc) by human beings and perpetuated just as carefully to ensure those characteristics continue in each successive strain. It's a cultivar - a cultivated variety, and not something found in nature or provided by "the Almighty God" - except indirectly, perhaps. I don't have a problem with hybridized foods (although GMOs give me cause for pause) - selective breeding is something humans have done for millennia. What's wrong about this is the assumption (incorrect, at that) that God has provided this fruit in its particular form for the consumption of man. He didn't, and it isn't. It's the result of careful cul

Farewell, Mr. Keillor. For forty years, you've invited us into the homes and hearts of the people of Lake Wobegon... You've made us a part of Guy Noir's capers, and you've brought smiles and tears to the hearts of millions. Thank you, sir! http://www.cnn.com/videos/us/2016/01/10/garrison-keillor-life-after-radio-harlow-intv.cnn I'll never get to try Powdermilk Biscuits, and I'll never forget the Ketchup Advisory Council - these really are the good times. But I'm still not brave enough to try lutefisk. The shows will continue on after Garrison leaves in July, but it will never be the same. Neither will I.

The sound of her voice Ignites a fire in my soul A blazing, consuming fire That is glorious and warm It burns! Oh, how it burns! Like the memory of long-lost loves Burning bright and happy And oh so passionate I forget where I am Who I am And all I want is Her

So I read this just barely and thought it was interesting and related to what I wrote yesterday: http://www.cnn.com/2015/12/04/us/gun-violence-graphics/index.html Here's the graphs from the article (for some reason they're cut off at the right; click the link above to the original article to see the full graph):

So, I'm not anti-gun. I understand that people enjoy many different activities that involve guns, and I'm cool with people owning them and using them. I've written about this before ... I don't understand the need for a hand gun - unless you're hiking in bear country, or possibly in cougar country, you really don't need a hand gun. Ever. Police? Yes. Military? You bet. Personal defense? Not so much. Long rifles and shotguns I can understand a little better - sports, hunting, target shooting, whatever... Absolutely. Again, the focus is not on the silly idea that you're using the gun to defend your family, but to provide and entertain... Some people even earn a living target shooting, and more power to them... So when I see things like this: It makes me wonder a little about the double standard, about the implications or race and gun ownership (shucks, this black kid can't even own a water gun without being labeled a "thug"...) I'

The ship strikes the unseen rocks Borne there by the relentless waves and wind With pitiless power these forces continue And the ship breaks apart Plank by plank This once proud vessel Is smashed against the shore Breaking Breaking Torn asunder by immutable and terrible Forces, unseen Each plank broken to pieces Or carried away on the endless tide Until all that is left are splinters Was there ever even a ship there At all?

“So the old man made himself comfortable beside the bogus source while young Applegarth strode north, following the trickle of water. He slept that night under an oak tree, and before noon on the next day, May 4, 1811, he came to the ultimate source of the river. It was a kind of meadow in which nothing happened: no cattle, no mysteriously gushing water, merely the slow accumulation of moisture from many unseen and unimportant sources, the gathering of dew, so to speak, the beginning, the unspectacular congregation of nothingness, the origin of purpose. Bright sunlight fell on the meadow, and where the moisture stood, sharp rays were reflected back until the whole area seemed golden, and hallowed, as if here life itself were beginning. Thomas Applegarth, looking at this moist and pregnant land, thought: This is how everything begins—the mountains, the oceans, life itself. A slow accumulation—the gathering together of meaning." Excerpt From: James A. Michener. “Chesapeake.”