Keep Away From Children

I suppose Blogging on th Michael Jackson case at this point would combine the worst of both jumping on a bandwagon AND brating a dead horse AND a lot of other cliche metaphors, but what the heck.

I've heard a lot of disgust over the verdict, and from a parent's point of view, I can understand it. But we must remember that this is how the judicial system is designed to work, with the burden of proof on the prosecution. If anything, people who wanted to see him convicted should be disgusted with the prosecution for failing to carry that burden. The Defense did it's job, raising a "reasonable doubt" as to the proof. What that reason was is a bit mystifying to me, but there it is.

So did he molest kids? I have my opinion on the matter, but I'm not the jury. What I do know is that now that he's been acquitted, Michael Jackson should stay as far away from children, especially underage boys, as he possibly can. It's the smart and right thing to do -- because if he didn't do anything wrong, he doesn't need to muddy the waters any. And if he DID, you know he will again, and next time he might just get caught.

And finally, he should be as far away from kids as possible because, given what he admitted he DID do, regardless of the issue of molestation, he's a bad influence on kids. Pornography? Alchohol? What self respecting parent would LET him near their kids at this point?

I know for myself, if I saw him anywhere near The Lad, I'd provide him with a free additional rearrangement of his facial features.

Update:

Kathy over at Cake Eater Chronicles agrees with me.

Update II:

Kathy's reader Russ from Winterset weighs in with the quote of the day on Jackson and his supporters:

Somewhere, near the vicinity of the real world, there's a 35 year old virgin living in his mother's basement who watched the Jackson verdict coverage while practicing conjugating verbs in Klingon. . . . and he's disturbed by the sheer creepiness of these wackos.

MICHAEL JACKSON VERDICT IMMINENT!

I just got off the phone with The Feared Redhead, who tells me the jury has reached a verdict. A van is currently transporting Michael Jackson from Neverland to the courthouse, and the verdict should be read by 2:00 PM PDT.

Update (2:25 PM PDT):

NOT GUILTY!

Theory v. Practice

This is Post #2 in a series of posts about my father and his Navy stories. Any misuse of military jargon is due to my spotty civilian memory of my father's explanation.

As I've mentioned before, my father was a sonar man during his days in Uncle Sam's Yacht Club. Sonar, you may know, is an acronym for SOund Navigation And Ranging. This means that it emits sound waves through the water which then bounce off of objects and return to the source, where detection gear receives them back and uses the information to determine an object's size, shape, and relative position and speed in relationship to the emitting ship.

Thanks to movies like The Hunt for Red October, we civilians tend to be most familiar with the Detection portion of the equation, mostly because it's the more exciting use, and to a certain extent because the Navigation part has been taken over in modern times by things like GPS. But in my father's day, navigation was an essential role of sonar, especially in harbor. By taking a sonar reading of the relative position and speed of a known fixed object, like a navigation buoy, it is possible to determine the location, heading, and speed of the ship. The process by which this was accomplished in my father’s day was well-established and had a routine to it. The officer on duty whose job was to navigate would call for a reading from the sonar man on his mark. When he said “Mark!” the sonar man would call out the reading, and the officer would plot it on the ship’s charts.

The officer charged with this duty on my father’s destroyer was a young ensign who had been assigned to the ship directly from the US Naval Academy in Annapolis, an Ensign E. Ensign E. was what military types refer to as a “Ring-knocker”, that is, a graduate of a military academy who believes in his own inherent superiority just by virtue of his Alma Mater. Ensign E. was the quintessential such individual, regularly showing contempt for the enlisted men under him and treating them with undue harshness, unwilling to learn from his own mistakes, unable to distinguish from his academic training and real life experience. One example of this was his inability to grasp a concept called Advance and Transfer. As explained to me by my father, Advance and Transfer means that, in the days before GPS, when navigational readings and computations occurred at a speed slower than light, the fact that the ship is moving while you’re navigation means that there will always be a slight discrepancy between where you were when you took your readings and where you are when you plot them. What this means in practical terms is that while in a classroom with a set of coordinates provided from a textbook, you can calculate an exact fixed location, on a ship at sea moving over the water, the coordinates will always be an approximation, albeit a highly accurate approximation with a good crew. My father and his fellow sonar men on the Bausell prided themselves in being such a crew. Ensign E. was not satisfied with anything short of perfection. During the days leading up to a WestPac deployment, as the ship exited San Diego Bay and returned each day, he had them work on navigational readings. And because there was always a margin of error, no matter how slight, on the last night before the deployment, he denied them shore leave. The men would not be given one last night on US soil before the deployment.

Now, in general, treating your men with undue harshness is not a wise course for any officer. It degrades morale, for one thing. But it’s even more foolish when you’re the least experienced officer on board ship, and the men you choose to alienate are the most intelligent, highly trained enlisted men on the entire vessel. My father and his buddies vowed revenge. They would have it, and it would be swift and sure. They spent that last night doing just what Ensign E. had ordered them to do – studying the navigational charts of San Diego Bay, and practicing their navigational skills.

The next day, as the ship slipped its moorings and got under way, Ensign E. took his place at the chart table and began calling for readings. My father, stationed at the sonar equipment, would call out the readings and recorded them in the navigational log. But as the ship began to make the final turn and leave the harbor, my father began calling the readings not from his sonar scope, but from a prepared cheat sheet hidden on his person (though the readings recorded in the log were still from the actual scope). Ensign E. looked puzzled as he plotted the reading. He looked at the chart, looked out the hatch at the harbor, muttered “that can’t be!” and then called out, “Give me another reading!” My father complied. Ensign E. became more confused, more frustrated, and more frantic. For while the official log shows an uneventful cruise up the bay and out to sea, Ensign E.’s chart showed that the USS Bausell had made its turn early and was cruising down the main runway of North Island Naval Air Station.

It’s at this point that my father introduced me to the other officer who plays a part in the story, the ships XO (Executive Officer, the Second-in-Command to the Captain). The XO was the opposite of a “ring-knocker”, he was a “Mustanger”, as my father called him, someone who began his career as an enlisted man but who had server so long and with such distinction that he had earned an officer’s commission, and further had reached an impressive rank even as an officer. He was also as typical of this kind of officer as Ensign E. was of the other. He had a great deal of respect for enlisted men, understood them, and judged them on their character and performance, not their rank. Furthermore he had no tolerance for incompetence, from either enlisted men or officers.

The XO was on the bridge that morning, and Ensign E.’s discomfiture quickly got his attention. He wandered over to the navigation area and watched for a few minutes. Then he walked over to the charts and looked at Ensign E.’s plots. Then he walked over to my father’s station, bent down, and looked at the logs. He looked from the log to my father to the charts, back to the log, and then at my father again, giving him a wicked, sly grin. He straightened up, shifted his foul-smelling briar pipe from one side of his mouth to the other, and addressed Ensign E. by asking him, “What rinky-dink trade school did you come from?”

Desserting the Grill

NSFD*

Don't any of you EVER tell my wife, The Feared Redhead, that I compared her to a rodent, but she has to be the world's happiest guinea pig, since I test all my new experimental food recipes on her, and most are successes. Last night was no different. She wanted something from the grill, and I didn't feel like coming up with a new entree, so I cooked my shrimp tacos as I've mentioned. But I did feel like trying SOMETHING new, so I ventured into new tewrritory: grilled dessert. The result was a hit, so I'm sharing it here:

Candyaki Fruit Kebabs

This dish gets its name from the fact that the sauce reminds me of a teriyaki sauce in color and how it’s made, even though it has a completely different flavor.

To make this recipe you will need:

Kebabs:
Bamboo skewers
Fresh fruit (I like using apples, bananas, nectarines, and pineapple, but feel free to experiment.)

Candyaki Sauce:
20 oz. bottle Coca-Cola
1 cup dark rum (Myers is fine, you might also try a lighter spice rum for extra flavor. I used a black strap rum that’s so dark, it’s essentially spiked molasses.)
½ cup brown sugar
¼ cup lime juice (key lime if you can get it)
1 tbsp. grated ginger or ginger paste
1 tsp. cinnamon

Vanilla ice cream

Preparation

Soak bamboo skewers for 30-45 minutes in cold water.

Cut the fresh fruit into chunks. You want the chunks to be big enough to stay on the skewers, but not so big that they don’t cook through. It’s also important that all the fruit be cut into chunks of similar size for even cooking.

Insert skewers through the fruit, alternating chunks of different fruit.

Cooking:
In a saucepan over medium heat, combine the Coca-Cola, rum, lime juice, ginger, brown sugar, and vanilla. Heat the sauce to a low boil, stirring frequently. Reduce heat and simmer, letting sauce reduce.

Place the skewers on a grill over medium high heat. Transfer saucepan to grill next to skewers. Brush skewers with sauce frequently, turning each time to avoid burning. Cook until the fruit is cooked through and coated with sauce and the coating is caramelized.

Serving:

Remove fruit from skewer. Place fruit over vanilla ice cream, spoon the excess sauce over the top. Makes 4-6 skewers.

*Not Safe For Diabetics

Escargot Away!

With it's damp, mild winters, Oregon is heaven for gastropods. The banana slugs are huge. It's a matter of perverted pride and humor here.

So last night, I opened the grill to cook up some of my shrimp tacos, and right in the middle of the grill was a snail. And all across the grill were snail tracks.

Now, I was duly grossed out and spent a good deal of time scrubbing the grill, but I was also impressed. This snail had crossed the gap from one bar of the grill to another.

Followed

The last two mornings, as my carpool partner and I have walked from his truck to the door at work, we've been followed by someone with criminal intent. I know this to be so, because I saw them shadow our movements, hiding behind trees as they did. They're looking for a chance to rob us blind. I've gotten a good look at the thief, and know from bitter experience how quickly this criminal can victimize you. He already has a reputation, and his picture's on file:



This is a Steller's Jay. It's our West Coast equivalent of the Blue Jay, and like the Gray or Canadian Jay, we refer to it as a Robber Jay. I've had these little buggers swoop in to a table at a campsite and steal food from a plate less than a foot in front of me. They're related to crows, and they're brazen, shamelsss thiefs.

I also think they're gorgeous.

It's About Damned Time!

Thanks for the Memory to Blogfather Rusty.

It's been a long time coming, but finally, the US and NATO are going to intervene in Darfur. It's too late for almost a quarter of a million people, but at least now we'll get off our arses and help.

Top Ten List for Thursday, June 9, 2005

So I give my friend Vulture Six a lot of ribbing about how much I prefer my beloved home state of Oregon to his beloved Texas, and he gives me just as much ribbing back. But he is a good friend, and quite fair-minded. So, to be fair and respond in kind, I present:

Top Ten Reasons Houston Isn't As Bad As I Let On

10. Cheap gasoline. Saved our budgetary arses, it did.
9. Johnson Space Center. If you love science, love astronomy, love the space program, Houston has a special place in your nostalgia. I just wish I'd had time to go see it.
8. Tex-Mex. I prefer Baja cuisine myself, but I have to admit to enjoying Tex-Mex, especially those fried dessert things... what were they called? And I wonder why I need to lose weight.
7. Chik Fil-A (sp?). OK, so it's found other places, but that's where I was introduced to it.
6. Shiner Bock. Damned good beer. I still favor local brews, but Oregonians pride themselves on appreciating good beer as much as making it, and so I have to give it its props. It sure as hell beats Sam Adams five different ways from Sunday.
5. Whattaburger. Mmmmmmm...... best damned restaurant hamberger I've ever had. Puts In-N-Out or my local favorite, Burgerville, to shame (notice a trend here?).
4. Texans know how to throw a party. Seriously, Scott, that was the best spread I've ever seen. Brisket, chicken, sausage... I'm starting to drool.
3. It's home to one of the best friends you could ever ask for.
2. Give me a second, I'll think of something.... Oh, Yeah:
1. IT'S NOT CALIFORNIA!!!!!!

Mountain Vistas

Since I moved back to Oregon, and settled here in Lane County, this has become my favorite time of year. One of the reasons I favor it is because it's early enough in the year that there is still snow in the High Cascades, but the weather is nice enough down here in the valleys that you get clear air and a good view of the mountains. In fact, because of the placement of one of our local freeways, I-105/Hwy 126, as it passes over I-5, our daily drive home points us straight at a picture-framed view of this:



albeit from a different angle and a greater distance, it's a gorgeous sight each day. Those are the Three Sisters, and they're among the most likely volcanoes in the central Cascades to reactivate during my lifetime.

Candle in the Windows (And Mac and Linux)

Thanks for the Memory to Nickie Goomba.

I often get annoyed when people from "Red States" express their annoyance with West Coast politics by expressing a wish, however sarcastic, that the Left Coast would just secede or be nuked by North Korea or some such stupidity. For starters, there are plenty of us out here who are just as fed up with our leftists, thank you, and we're doing the best we can to change things. Secondly, the implication that this region is any less American is just stupid. Do I really have to trot out the statistics on how many Guards and reserves from Oregon alone are serving in Afghanistan and Iraq, or the number of casualties they've suffered? I guess they don't count as Americans because they're from Blue states, huh? I swear, sometimes I'm as embarassed by my political allies as I am amused by my opponents, and just as outraged.

I'd do well to remember that the next time I feel the urge to make disparaging remarks about all Europeans just because the majority over there is at political odds with me. Nickie Goomba has pointed me to an encouraging Blog called Free Thoughts, out of Sardinia.

At first I thought the writing style was a bit unpolished, but that's understandable as she's an Italian Blogging in English. She's bright, well-informed, expressive, and has a passionate love of freedom. If I were single and ten years younger, I'd be in love!

Go check out Free Thoughts, give it a read. If you like it, leave a comment encouraging her. And if you have a Blog, please, give her some link love.

More on Light and Shadow

A while back I Blogged on how my new work schedule was affording me an opportunity to observe the way the time of day and the weather affected the sunlight, and to begin to understand what architects and photographers mean by “Quality of light”. This morning is one of those gorgeous mornings, the sky overhead is cloudless, and the low angle of the sun means it’s not flooding the whole landscape outside with light, but rather is lighting up tall objects like trees and hills, casting surprisingly dark shadows for such brightly lit objects, providing for sharp, clear contrasts. It makes everything look almost more real than normal, if that’s possible. What I mean by that is, each object being lit stands out, has its own noticeable individual identity instead of being part of some homogenous background.

Last night a different time of day and a different set of conditions gave some different but eerily beautiful results.

The weather for most of the day yesterday was quite rainy (but not that cold), as if the weather is trying to make up for lost time before summer officially arrives. As the day wore on, the weather began to clear, until by the time I picked up TFR from work, some time after 8 PM, not only were there spots in which the clouds did not rain, there were patches of completely clear sky. As the sun set (this far north, summer sunsets are quite late), it hit that gap between the mountains and the clouds that I love so much, lightening the sky and tingeing the clouds to the west with an incandescent edge, fading into crimsons and violets. Oregon has some of the most gorgeous sunsets you’ll ever see, and they only get better over on the coast.

This last effort to shine left the sky over Eugene bright and glowing, surprisingly bright for such a rainy day. As we drove from Eugene into Springfield, there was a mist hanging close to the ground, and as the sun lit it, it created a golden glow around and over us. Farther to the east, it was darker, as if that wall of mist absorbed the last of the sunlight, but the higher cloud level meant that it was a whitish-bluish-grayish darkness, more like the rainy day it had been than like the night that was coming, until over the Cascades farther to the east, where the clouds met the Earth, it was the thick, brooding darkness of a storm.

Here's to You, Mrs. Robinson

Anne Bancroft
1931-2005

One Hand Clapping, One Voice Laughing

As I may or may not have mentioned, The Feared Redhead just took employment at a new spa, which I shall refrain from naming to protect her. This new spa, like many businesses in her line of work, tends to be a bit on the umm... New Agey side (this is Eugene, after all, but it's a universal trend in that industry), and tends to advocate products and services that help people focus their chi and cleanse their energy etc. etc....

Last Saturday, TFR brought me into the spa for a tour. While their, I needed to use the little Bloggers room. TFR showed me to the guest restroom and left me to fend for myself. In the room, I observed a lovely, very pseudo-zen arrangement on a metal table of a bamboo mat on which was a lit candle surrounded by various sizes of polished river stones. I decided to switch the places of two to see if it would ever be noticed. As I picked up one small stone, I realized someone had beaten me to it. It wasn't a stone. It was a Milk Dud.

I have a new hero.

Another Brick in the Wall...

...As Long As It's Not A Red Brick

(Originally Posted April 4, 2005)

Thanks for the Memory to The Llama Butchers.

TFR and I have already decided that, if at all possible, The Lad will receive his primary education either at home or at a private school.

This article sealed that decision.

Apparently, schools are discontinuing the use of red pens for grading and correcting papers because it "stresses children out".

Now, those who know me personally know that, due to my own educational background (I was diagnosed as having an unspecified "learning disability"), I'm no fan of hidebound approaches to education. But this seems a bit over the top.

The article goes on to describe the negative connotations associated with red ink, and that it focuses too much on the mistakes in a paper. I believe they've missed the point.

When I was a child, the connotation of red ink had nothing to do with the quality of the student's work. It had everything to do with the teacher's authority. Red ink was reserved for teachers. So when you saw red ink, you knew that whatever was written in it carried weight. I remember one algebra teacher who had a tendency to mark GOOD papers with more red ink than he did the poor papers.

In the end, the message conveyed has more to do with the teacher than their pen. If they're good, they'll find ways to convey to a student both the areas in which they did well, and those that need improvement. I recall looking forward to words of praise written in red ink!

The article itself ends with a comment that I think sums up well my own response:

In Charles County, Maryland, reading and writing specialist Janet Jones helps other teachers lead their lessons. The students at Berry Elementary School in Waldorf, Maryland, use colored pencils to edit each other's papers. By the time teachers get to grading, Jones said, the color they use isn't that important.

"I don't think changing to purple or green will make a huge difference if the teaching doesn't go along with it," Jones said. "If you're just looking at avoiding the color red, the students might not be as frightened, but they won't be better writers."

Sadly, it would seem that in too many cases these days, that's just fine with educators.

Update (6/7/05)

The Llama Butchers are weighing in on this issue again, in response to an essay by Christina Hoff Summers. Both are excellent reading.

Dad's Navy Days: The Pie Story

Over the weekend, I had a chance to discuss my Memorial Day post over the phone with my good friend Vulture Six, who had the honor of knowing my father before his death. Dad and V6 got along famously because they were both Navy vets. Like I did as a child, Vulture loved to listen to my dad's Navy stories. In the time he was in the Navy, my father managed to cram in a lot of interesting experiences, and loved to regale us with memories of them. Scott is of the opinion that I shoul,d commit some of those stories to my Blog so that I can preserve them for posterity. I think it's a capital idea. So today I am going to share my favorite story:

My father was a sonarman on a destroyer in the early 60's. Back in those days, he would tell me, on a small ship like that you were often called upon to do jobs not normally associated with your rate. In my father's case, he had some experience as an electrician, so he often found himself doing wiring in addition to his sonar duties. One day, that job took him into the ship's galley (kitchen) as he rasn wiring through it.

My father's ship was one of the best run destroyers in the navy, and was the flagship of its Desron (Destroyer Squadron). This meant that in addition to the skipper of the ship, it was home to the Commodore (an officer of the Navy rank of Captain who was in command of a group of ships) of the Desron. The Commodore had on board with him his own cook, who was also busy working in the galley at the same time. He had placed out to cool two blackberry pies. I've already mentioned how dearly Oregonians love blackberries.

The Electrician's toolbox that my father was using consisted of an upper tray full of tools, and a lower compartment with two curcular cutouts to hold spools of wire. As it would happen, these circular holes were of an ideal circumference fgor holding a pie plate. When the cook was not looking, my father lifted out a spool of wire, set the pie in its place, replaced the tool tray, and continued to work. A little while later, he left the compartment to continue his work elsewhere. Late than night, while standing watch in the sonar shack, he ate the pie.

Now, the commodore's cook was no dummy, and he put two and two together. A few days later, as they were having inspection, the Commodore approached my father.

Commodore: "B., do you like pie?"
Dad: "Yes, sir, I love pie."
Commodore: "Do you like Blackberry pie, B.?"
Dad: "I'm from Oregon, sir, that's probably my favorite."
Commodore: "B.?"
Dad: "Yes, sir?"
Commodore: "My cook would like his pie plate back."
Dad: "Aye aye, sir!"

Maximum Leader on Immigration

Yet again The Maximum Leader over at Naked Villainy says for me what I've been intending to say but never got around to. And probably much better than I would have.

I Love the Smell of Charcoal in the Morning.

It smells like… Barbecue!

Despite weather that couldn’t make up its mind what it wanted to do, I managed to cook outside on both Saturday and Sunday. Saturday I grilled chicken on the gas grill using a marinade recipe I learned from the cook at a church I attended in San Diego. The recipe works best if you can marinate your meat in it at least 24 hours, but I left my chicken in it for only about 10 hours and it still worked well. In addition, I discovered that it makes a great flavor base for jerky made on the smoker, and also tastes good basted onto grilled veggies:

Monkey Meat Marinade

1 medium sized ginger root
5 cloves garlic
1 10 oz. bottle of soy sauce
1 20 oz. bottle 7up or other lemon-lime pop
¼ cup sugar

Peel and grate ginger, chop garlic finely. Combine all ingredients in a glass bowl. Pour over chicken or beef, cover and refrigerate, marinate 1-3 nights.

Sunday, as I mentioned earlier, was spent barbecuing. I find very interesting the various permutations of barbecue found throughout the Southeast, Southwest, and Lower Midwest (Missouri). The debate over which are the proper methods of preparing the meat, and which meat to use, leave me bemused and drooling. Not living in or being from any of those regions, I have no vested interest in or philosophical commitment to any one method. For me, it’s all about the end result: does it taste good? That works for me.

So yesterday, I decided not to take sides in the great debate over wet vs. dry. I decided to borrow from, and probably to offend, ALL interested parties, by combining several different methods.

I started by selecting pork as the meat of choice for this round, since I’d already tried my hand at beef (brisket). I had two cuts of meat – a loin and a rack of baby backs. Friday afternoon I started marinating them in two bottles of red wine vinaigrette dressing. Sunday after church, I fired up the smoker, and removed the pork from the fridge. I patted it dry and applied a dry rub of my own concoction. The spices in it included ground sun dried tomato, paprika, cayenne, chili powder, garlic powder, onion powder, mustard powder, turmeric, cumin, sage, oregano, sugar, salt, and white pepper. After applying the dry rub, I started cooking. After an hour or so, when the dry rub had time to cook in to the meat, I turned it over to let the other side cook, and applied a wet sop. The sop was made up of V-8 Juice, orange juice, pineapple juice, and a package of zesty Italian dressing mix. I continued applying this sop and turning the meat for another two hours, then started applying barbecue sauce. I confess that I didn’t make my own, but relied on a high quality commercial sauce out of Texas called Stubb’s. I cooked the meat for the last two hours continuously applying Stubb’s Spicy. The last half hour or so, I ran out of charcoal and the smoker couldn’t keep up sufficient heat, so I finished it on the gas grill. That may horrify the purist, but it got the job done, and by that point, the meat had absorbed plenty of smoke.

For sides, I tossed a couple of ears of corn, still in their husks, onto the grill, and in my grill basket I cooked up some green beans with olive oil, salt, pepper, and garlic. I finished the meal with dinner rolls and a bottle of Pinot Noir Blanc (I didn’t think a white wine could stand up to the intensity of the BBQ sauce, and a red would probably be too dry -- a blush worked perfectly).

I was quite pleased with the results, and so was The Feared Redhead. I was informed, and I quote, “You can make this recipe again”. How generous of her. The one thing we agreed on is that next time, I could probably save myself some trouble and skip the sop in the middle, relying only on the dry rub and the sauce.

Carpe Diem Blogging

I decided to take Ally's advice and seize the (birth)day yesterday. Saturday I went out and bought myself a birthday cake, which we took to church with us yesterday and shared with the congregation. They sang Happy Birthday to me. I also informed TFR that while I would help with The Lad, no Honey Do projects would be undertaken yesterday. I spent the whole afternoon in one of my favorite pursuits, namely cooking, as I barbecued a rack of pork baby back ribs on the smoker. They were awesome, and I shall blog on them later today. I received several phone calls wishing me happy birthday, including from my mother, my sister, my good friend Vulture 6, and fro ma group of old and very dear friends down in San Diego. The Feared Redhead gave me a pair of pajamas and a pocket watch for my birthday, and we finished the day with a DQ ice cream cake.

All in all, a much better birthday than I anticipated. Thanks to all of you for your kind thoughts too.

Baby Blogging

I guess I wasn't ready to catch the "They grow up too fast" bug so early on, but I knew it would happen. Four months after his premature birth, and The Lad is already wearing size 3 diapers, and yesterday I got to watch him roll over from his belly to his back for the very first time. It was so cool! He graduated this week from a basinet to a crib. I remember watching him laying there in the NICU, so tiny and fragile looking, and now while he's still just a wee bairn, he's a chunk, and squirmy and active and expressive. It's amazing to watch him grow.

UPDATE

Along with the good comes the bad. The Lad had his four month checkup today, and the doctor says he has a hernia and may need surgery. Please pray for him.

Hmmmm....

Apparently someone found my Blog after Googling chicken thrill.

I don't want to know.

Birthday Blues

Sunday's my 37th birthday, and quite frankly, I'm viewing it's approach with a bit of malaise. I'm not dreading it, like some big number (50 or 60 or even 40), I'm just not that excited about it. No party is planned, I doubt we'll even get a cake. Last night we had to buy some baby supplies, so while we were at the mall, TFR asked me to show her some ideas for gifts, then made me disappear for a while. So there's very little surprise to what I'll receive as a gift. It's my own damned fault, because I make myself hard to shop for by never really making it clear what I'd like. I tried the idea of making a running list on the computer, but I forgot to print it out for her in time.

I guess what really gets me down is that it's been a very long time since a big deal was made out of my birthday, or since I had a party. I've never in my life had a surprise party thrown for me, and the last few years, I haven't had a party at all. I'm a grown man, so I'm not supposed to care about such things, but for once, I'd like to be the Birthday Boy.

The Carnival Comes to Town

Carnival of the Recipes is up.

I'm Running Away to Join the Carnival(s)

As I mentioned over the weekend, my recipe for grilled chicken with a cordon bleu-like twist was in the latest Carnival of the Recipes. I saw the biggest one-day spike in reader traffic in as long as I can remember. Now, I am not as driven by stats as I used to be (a phase all Bloggers go through), but a little positive reinforcement is always a good feeling. So you can bet your assets I've already submitted my shrimp taco recipe. Heck, if I ever post ANYTHING that's remotely related to a Blog Carnival, I'm submitting it!

Well, today I got even more of the same kind of attention. Last weeks post on Britain's proposed knife ban, and the connection to gun control, made the latest Carnival of Cordite (if only with a cursory Reynoldsesque "heh"). This is not normally a topic I Blog on, but not because it doesn't concern me. In fact, I'm quite a staunch supporter or the Second Amendment. But prior to last week, I didn't feel I had anything useful to add to the conversation.

One of my readers, and a dear friend, suggests that my views will changew as The Lad gets older. She may be right, but as it stands now, I highly doubt that. In fact, if you read the comments to this old post, you'll see that it has been fatherhood that has changed me from being a supporter of the Second Amendment to considering actively exercizing my rights under it. As I told my friend Vulture Six on the phone this weekend, if it became necessary, I would end the miserable existence of anyone who tried to harm my child.

I suppose my friend's concern has to do with the possibility of a gun in the house itself being the danger posed to The Lad. To that, my response is to remind my readers about my main annoyance at the article about knives in Britain -- Personal Responsibilty.

For the record, I grew up in a household which contained firearms, and yet I am here today having never shot anyone or been shot by anyone as a result of a tragic accident. In fact, the only life I ever ended with any of those firearms was that of a harmful four-legged varmint damaging farm property. The secret? I was taught at an early age not to go anywhere near those guns without my father's supervision, and when I was old enough to handle them, I was taught HOW -- never point a gun at anything you don't intend to shoot, always treat every gun as if it is loaded, keep your finger off of the trigger until you are ready to fire, store guns and ammo separately... if you have guns, you'd damned well BETTER know what I'm talking about.

To be fair, I do intend to practice even more stringent safeguards in my household than my father did, including keeping the guns locked when not in use. I most certainly don't want my son to be put at risk as a result of MY negligence.

But by the same token, I am painfully aware of the numerous and growing thrats outside the home, and refuse to limit myself to the options available to me to protect him from them.

More from the Grill

despite yesterday's foibles and Sunday's work, and the fact that it rained Saturday, Friday night I did get a chance to use the grill, and Saturday the smoker. On saturday I tried my hand at making jerky. It worked out ok, plenty smoky and the right consistency, but the flavor was weak. I think I need to work on my brine recipe.

Friday, The Feared Redhead wanted a break from red meat, so I suprised her with a seafood dish. I whipped up some grilled shrimp, then served it on tacos. I wanted to try something different with the salsa for it -- standard hot sauce or salsa didn't seem to really do it justice, so I created a Cocktail Salsa -- a combination of salsa and cocktail sauce. It worked surprisingly well. Enjoy.

Grilled Tequila Lime Shrimp Tacos

For the shrimp you will need:
1 lb. raw 26-30 count shrimp, peeled & de-veined
1 packet taco seasoning mix
1 cup tequila
¼ cup lime juice
¼ cup minced fresh cilantro

For the tacos you will need:
Grilled Tequila Lime Shrimp
6-8 medium corn tortillas
Shredded cabbage (most grocery stores carry bags of pre-shredded cabbage in the salad section, often labeled as Cole Slaw Cabbage. This does quite nicely.)
Grated cheese (Mild or medium cheddar, jack, pepper jack, Colby jack, or your personal favorite)
Cocktail Salsa (see below)
Cooking spray or vegetable oil

For the cocktail Salsa you will need:
¼ cup ketchup
1 tbsp. Mexican hot sauce (Tapatio and Cholula are both popular choices.)
2 tbsp. chunky salsa
2 tbsp. horseradish

In a glass mixing bowl, combine the shrimp, taco seasoning, tequila, lime juice, and cilantro, mix well. Cover and refrigerate for 10-15 minutes.

In a small bowl, combine the ketchup, salsa, hot sauce, and horseradish. Refrigerate.

Preheat the grill to medium/medium high heat. Lightly spray both sides of the tortillas with cooking spray or lightly rub on a small amount of vegetable oil. Place the tortillas on the grill, cooking for only 30 seconds to a minute on each side. They can then be wrapped in foil and kept warm on the grill away from direct heat.

Remove the shrimp from their marinade and grill. You can probably use skewers, though I use a grill basket. Cooking time will vary, usually around 5 minutes a side, though you definitely want to watch shrimp closely, and if you are tossing them in a grill basket it can take a bit longer. Once the shrimp are a solid pinkish color and no longer translucent, remove them from the grill.

Place 4-5 shrimp in each tortilla. Spoon on some of the cocktail salsa, and top each tortilla with cabbage and cheese. Makes 6-8 tacos.

The Last Thing I Wanted to do on Memorial Day

I'm a big believer in NOT making Memorial Day just another excuse to shop. But I'm also married to a redhead and have a keen survival instinct.

TFR's sister and her husband live up in Portland. Our youngest nephew just graduated from a crib to a toddler bed, and The Lad is read to move from a Basinet to a crib, so it was decided that we would spend Sunday driving up north to pick up their crib. We decided to meet about half way (or thereabouts). The SIL came down with a case of stomache flu on Sunday, so the rendezvous was postponed until Monday. It was decided, furthermore, that we should meet a bit farther north than half way, in Woodburn. This suggestion immediately caused the hair on the back of my neck to stand up, because Woodburn is home to... an outlet mall (cue ominous soundtrack).

Yup, sure enough, that mall's parking lot was picked as an ideal meeting spot, being easy to find and all. I made it clear that I didn't want to spend all day there, especially since the day before had been spent on chores and housecleaning. It was agreed, a little time with the SIL, an hour or so of looking around, and then home. We arrived promptly at 11 AM.

We got home at 8 PM.

So for all those who got to spend Memorial Day, Y'Know, Memorializing, or even just resting, you have my undying envy.

Back at the Griddle Again

This week's Carnival of the Recipes (#41 to be precise) is up, and I'm back in it again, with the chicken grill dish I posted a couple of days ago. I have plenty of good company, go drool.

Seduced by summer

The place of business where The Feared Redhead works is just a short mile from the place where I work, so on pleasant days, I walk the distance instead of her picking me up here. With record-setting temperatures, yesterday was just such a day. The route passes the Eugene Country Club and an empty field before reaching Oakway. Yesterday, as I walked the route, my olfactory senses were aroused by a scent that was at first hauntigly familiar, but which, when recognized, ravished my memory with a flood of old sensations.

The blackberries are in bloom.

Most Oregonians will readily admit to being absolute blackberry fiends. They grow as weeds here, and the hybrid Marionberry (not to be confused with Marion Barry)was developed here in Oregon, up in, of course, Marion County. I am no different. I am addicted to them.

Growing up in southern Oregon, I loved to pick blackberries as much as I loved eating them. In part, that is because eating blackberries is a significant protion of picking them. For ever berry that hits the bucket, usually two manage to reach the bucket's escape velocity, only to be inexorably pulled in by the gravitational forces of your mouth.

And eating blackberries, especially right off of the plant, is, if you'll pardon the expression, quite a sensual experience, almost erotic. The buxom fullness of the berries, the flood of juices as you devour them, the alternating tartness and sweetness of berries of varying degrees of ripeness. Eating blackberries is not a casual experience. And the atmosphere of picking them adds to this -- the silence of a remote country berry patch, disturbed only by the droning hum of bugs and the occasional call of a bird, the soaking heat of the sun, the sudden chills as you step into the shade and the wind picks up. Picking blackberries involves all the senses, you find yourself sleepy and aroused and hungry and sated all at the same time.

Now if I can just remember where I put my bucket.

Guns Don’t Kill People, Sous Chefs Kill People

Not being a pure libertarian, I tend to shy away from using the hyperbolic phrase Nanny State. But considering this news story from the BBC, sent to me by a coworker, I’m making a prediction as to who will be the next Prime Minister of Great Britain:

Doctors' kitchen knives ban call

A&E doctors are calling for a ban on long pointed kitchen knives to reduce deaths from stabbing.

A team from West Middlesex University Hospital said violent crime is on the increase - and kitchen knives are used in as many as half of all stabbings.

They argued many assaults are committed impulsively, prompted by alcohol and drugs, and a kitchen knife often makes an all too available weapon.

The research is published in the British Medical Journal.

The researchers said there was no reason for long pointed knives to be publicly available at all.

They consulted 10 top chefs from around the UK, and found such knives have little practical value in the kitchen.

None of the chefs felt such knives were essential, since the point of a short blade was just as useful when a sharp end was needed.

The researchers said a short pointed knife may cause a substantial superficial wound if used in an assault - but is unlikely to penetrate to inner organs.

In contrast, a pointed long blade pierces the body like "cutting into a ripe melon".

The use of knives is particularly worrying amongst adolescents, say the researchers, reporting that 24% of 16-year-olds have been shown to carry weapons, primarily knives.
The study found links between easy access to domestic knives and violent assault are long established.

French laws in the 17th century decreed that the tips of table and street knives be ground smooth. [

A century later, forks and blunt-ended table knives were introduced in the UK in an effort to reduce injuries during arguments in public eating houses.

The researchers say legislation to ban the sale of long pointed knives would be a key step in the fight against violent crime.

"The Home Office is looking for ways to reduce knife crime.

"We suggest that banning the sale of long pointed knives is a sensible and practical measure that would have this effect."

Government response

Home Office spokesperson said there were already extensive restrictions in place to control the sale and possession of knives.

"The law already prohibits the possession of offensive weapons in a public place, and the possession of knives in public without good reason or lawful authority, with the exception of a folding pocket knife with a blade not exceeding three inches.

"Offensive weapons are defined as any weapon designed or adapted to cause injury, or intended by the person possessing them to do so.

"An individual has to demonstrate that he had good reason to possess a knife, for example for fishing, other sporting purposes or as part of his profession (e.g. a chef) in a public place.

"The manufacture, sale and importation of 17 bladed, pointed and other offensive weapons have been banned, in addition to flick knives and gravity knives."

A spokesperson for the Association of Chief Police Officers said: "ACPO supports any move to reduce the number of knife related incidents, however, it is important to consider the practicalities of enforcing such changes."

Wait a minute. Let me get this straight. In the United Kingdom, which has some of the most stringent gun control laws on the planet, violent crime is on the increase??? But… but… I thought guns were the cause of violence!!!

No, I’m afraid you were mistaken. Guns don’t make people more violent, they make violent people more efficient. In fact, that’s the object of any weapon. I believe the root of the Greek words for tool and weapon are the same, because that’s what a weapon is – a tool for violence, a “Force Multiplier”, if you will. Humanity has been committing acts of violence as far back as we can remember. As soon as we realized that we could use tools to make our work easier, I suspect it was about twenty minutes before one of our ancestors realized, "Hey, this makes folks easier to KILL, too!" Ever since, we've just kept getting better at it (or worse, depending on your point of view). And I'm sure that even without handy death gadgets, we'll still find other means. Ban our guns, people will use knives. Ban the knives, it'll be clubs. Pretty soon, we'll live in foam-padded societies equipped only with KFC sporks, and we'll still be using those to gouge out eyes. Violent nature begets weapons, not the other way around.

The second idea put forth here to which I strenuously object is this:

The researchers said there was no reason for long pointed knives to be publicly available at all.

They consulted 10 top chefs from around the UK, and found such knives have little practical value in the kitchen.

None of the chefs felt such knives were essential, since the point of a short blade was just as useful when a sharp end was needed.

I've heard the same comment put forth by those who argue that certain types of guns should be banned because "You don't need automatic weapons to hunt deer".

First of all, people who sday that have never seen some of the people I grew up with. Their shooting was so bad, the only chance in hell they had of bagging game was to lay down volumes of fire vaguely reminiscent of Omaha Red.

But removing my tongue from my cheek, this is where I do agree with true libertarians. "Because you don't need it" is not a valid reason to ban something, nor should it even be part of the equation with regards to adults. There's a saying that expresses the fear of many with regards to this attitude by the state, and it goes something like "What is not required will be outlawed". Frightening prospect. But it seems to be where our society is heading: Abrogating free will and personal responsibility; entrusting the State with the power and duty to make our decisions for us. Protect us from ourselves, we seem to be saying.

Well, some of us. But not me. I'd rather the government spend more of its time protecting me from itself.

These Hands

You all know my buddy Vulture 6?

Well, he's gone and started an internet business, and I've got to admit, it's amusing. I promised him I'd plug it, so here goes:

How many times have you jokingly said, "These hands are registered as Deadly Weapons"?

Well, now they can be. For a small fee, DeadlyHands.net will register them, and even send you a certificate and a wallet card.

It's gotta be good for a laugh, if not a free beer on occasion.

Speaking of Warbirds

I had to drive home at lunch so that TFR could have the car this afternoon. As we headed back to my work, we stopped at a light on westbound Centennial, when all of a sudden, TFR pointed up at the sky. She didn't know what she was looking at, but she knew it was out of the ordinary. As a guy and a history geek, I knew right away. It was a Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress, one of the planes that won WWII, flying around over Eugene.

I think this grin's about to pull a face muscle.

Proof I Have the World's Weirdest Imagination

Yesterday as I was singing to The Lad, I found myself imagining what it would be like to hear Marlene Dietrich, in her smokiest, suktriest, Cabaret-style voice, singing "I Know an Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly".

Stop me before I think again!

More Recommended Reading

Twice in one day I'm recommending that you read excellent things written by people who don't exactly see eye to eye with me.

If you've read my Blog for a while, you'll recall that I on occasion take respectful exception to things written by Smallholder over at Naked Villainy, but that at the end of the day, I respect him highly.

Well, he's gone and done it. He's written something I agree with.

Dammit, man, you're going to take all the fun out of Blogging. But I do thank you for the moral support.

Now, I must confess there are a few details on which I disagree with you. I do believe that abortion is the taking of a human life. I do believe that there are some basic doctrines of the faith which are the truth, and must be accepted as such on informed faith in order to be classified as an orthodox believer. But I also agree that there is plenty on which we can agree to disagree -- In all things charity, isn't that how it goes? And I also agree with your assessment that theism and atheism require similar measures of faith.

To Air(Power) Is Human

Thanks for the Memory to The Maximum Leader at Naked Villainy. And yes, the quiz questions amused me too.

What military aircraft are you? EA-6B Prowler You are an EA-6B. You are sinister, preferring not to get into confrontations, but extract revenge through mind games and technological interference. You also love to make noise and couldn't care less about pollution.

Click Here to Take This Quiz Brought to you by YouThink.com quizzes and personality tests.

Grill Thrill

It's that time of year -- the sun is out (most of thetime), the air is fresh and fragrant, and there's warmth to be felt. Therefore, it's time for men (and women) to exercize their inalienable right to burn meat in their back yard, under the open sky as God intended.

A while back I managed to find a charcoal smoker at a garage sale for five bucks. This weekend, I cleaned it up, and tried my hand for the first time at "real" barbecue. as a novice, I started with a small piece of meat, a 1-pound beef brisket, dry rubbed with a rub I made from scratch. It came out nicely, so I will try some pork BBQ next. However, I still consider myself a learner, so for now I'll be reading barbecue recipes, not writing them.

However, I am still very confident in my outdoor grilling skills, as evidenced by my steelhead recipe. So today I decided to share with you all the very first recipe I ever invented for cooking on a grill. While it's not barbecue, the recipe does benefit if you incorporate one element of bbq -- wood smoke. However, I'd recommend a wood like apple or oak or alder, not mesquite, though hickory would probably do fine.

So, without further ado:

Inside Out Grilled Chicken Sorta Blue

4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
4 slices smoked Swiss cheese
8 slices smoked ham
1 cup white wine (Pinot Gris, Riesling, or Gewürztraminer)
2 sprig thyme
Salt
Pepper
1 tbsp honey

Preparation:
Marinade the chicken breasts overnight in the white wine and one of the thyme sprigs. Place the ham slices, the honey, and the other thyme sprig in a sealed aluminum foil packet. While grilling the chicken, place the foil packet to the side of the grill where the heat is lower. Salt and pepper the chicken and grill over medium heat. About 5-10 minutes before the chicken is done, remove the ham from the foil packet and place 2 slices on top of each chicken breast. Cover each breast with a slice of Swiss cheese; continue to grill until the cheese melts. Remove the chicken breasts and plate. Drizzle with honey mustard sauce, garnish with more thyme.

Honey Mustard Sauce:
½ cup yellow mustard
¼ cup honey
1 tsp garlic powder
¼ tsp onion powder
¼ tsp paprika
Dash cayenne
Dash chili powder
Dash powdered ginger


Place the mustard in a small bowl and pour in the honey. Mix in all spices, refrigerate.

Who Left Whom?

Many thanks to my good friend DAR for sending me the following link. Quite often it's easy to merely link to a well-written article by one of the many conservative pundits who are out there and say, "This is good, read it." But in this case, I'm linking to a liberal pundit, and saying the same thing. In Sunday's San Francisco Chronicle, columnist Keith Thompson wrote an excellent piece on why he's leaving the Left:

Leaving the left
I can no longer abide the simpering voices of self-styled progressives -- people who once championed solidarity

Not suprisingly, many of the reasons this man, who still considers himself a Liberal, is "Leaving the Left", are the very same reason that those of us who are unabashedly Conservative are so disdainful of it:

My estrangement hasn't happened overnight. Out of the corner of my eye I watched what was coming for more than three decades, yet refused to truly see. Now it's all too obvious. Leading voices in America's "peace" movement are actually cheering against self-determination for a long-suffering Third World country because they hate George W. Bush more than they love freedom.

But when I read comments like this:

I look back on that experience as the beginning of my departure from a left already well on its way to losing its bearings.

I have to respond with a comment that Thompson seems to already know in his heart, and implies throughout his artcile. He didn't leave the Left. The Left left him. Indeed, you can read it between the lines when he says,

I smile when friends tell me I've "moved right." I laugh out loud at what now passes for progressive on the main lines of the cultural left.

All of which is why I have come to believe, and gladly join with others who have discovered for themselves, that the single most important thing a genuinely liberal person can do now is walk away from the house the left has built. The renewal of any tradition that deserves the name "progressive" becomes more likely with each step in a better direction.

Welcome, Keith. Now your journey to the Dark Side is complete.

I May Be a Bozo....

....But I Think I scooped the Big Boys This Time.

A while back, I Blogged on an experimental Mileage Tax here in Oregon.

Yesterday, Garfield Ridge, Partisan Pundit, and The Jawa Report (Who refers to my home state as "The Bozo State". This from the Blog I consider my inspiration for starting to Blog. Nice) all get around to Blogging on it. They're considerably more negative towards it than I was.

As I stated in my comments earlier here and today over at Rusty's, I acknowledge the privacy issues raised by the use of a GPS and computer chip. But I take issue with people who will in one breath argue against this idea because it's Big Brother being too intrusive, and then turn around and argue against it because it "doesn't provide enough incentive to buy fuel efficient cars". That's arguing against it because it's too intrusive but not intrusive enough. Pick one reason or the other, but if anyone tries to pick both, they're being intellectually inconsistent.

Let's set aside for a moment any discussion of the use of the GPS chips and privacy issues, and think for just a moment about roads and how to fund their construction and maintenance. While I prefer small government, there are some essential services that must be provided -- at local and state levels as well as federally. How should we do that? Don't tell me that gasoline taxes are the best answer. As the articles discussing this point out, as it stands, you pay more fore the same amount of road use if your car is less fuel efficient. And while fuel efficiency is a great idea, taxes should be designed to pay for services, not regulate behavior.

The other problem here in Oregon is that we have one of the highest average MPG's per capita of any state in the Union, and it's rising. That means that the state is forecasting DECREASES in the amount of gas tax revenues expected in the next decade.

So if the Gas tax doesn't work, and this mileage tax doesn't (for whatever reason), I'm willing to entertain suggestions as to alternatives.

Belated Blogiversary

I can't believe I missed the 1-year anniversary of one of the best things to come out of Blogging: Strengthen the Good.

It's been a year since they set out to give us all a chance to use our Blogs as a force for good, a chance to help, and the means to look past ourselves. To celebrate their anniversary, they are once again highlighting the microcharity that started it all, Susan Tom and the Tom Family Educational Trust.

Go over and wish them a happy blogiversary the best way possible: By learning more about StG, and about the Toms, and by giving if you can.

Mangled Latin

As you can tell from the title of my Blog, I enjoy plays on words. In particular, I enjoy playing with Latin phrases. Below are a few I've invented, as well as one I've heard before (the last one). If you have any others, I'd love to hear them:

Memento Moron -- "Remember, thou art stupid."
Ex Posteriori -- An argument "pulled out of my ass."
Ad Hominid -- Logical fallacy that states that since the argument is made by a human, and all humans are fallible, the argument must be false.
Cogito Ergo Dim Sum -- "I think therefore I eat Chinese Food."
Carpe Per Diem -- "Seize the expense check."

Meanwhile, In This Corner of the Country

Thanks for the Memory to Traderbob, crossposted over at Blogfather Rusty's:

The investigation into election *ahem* "irregularities" up in Washington is getting interesting. From the Seattle Times:

King County's absentee-ballot supervisor has testified that she collaborated with her boss when she filled out a report that falsely showed all ballots were accounted for in the November election.

Interesting stuff. Given what's going on just over the river, you can understand why conservative Oregonians might look askance at politicians meddling with OUR election process.

The Bachelor (Well, Not Really!)

TFR is heading off to a women's retreat with the ladies of our church tomorrow, and she's taking The Lad with her. They're only spending one night, but she'll be gone all tomorrow evening and most of Saturday. I'm still trying to decide how to make the most of my "Bachelor" time. This will be the longest I've been apart from The Lad since he came home from the NICE, and the longest apart from TFR since SHE came home from the hospital after having him. It's gonna be weird, but a nice break too. Sleep is definitely in the cards, but other than that....

Suggestions?

Purple Mountains Majesty

Twenty-five years ago today. It's amazing to thing that I'm now old enough to reflect on my memories of a historic event that happened that long ago. Of course, here in the Pacific Northwest, history is divided into Before Mt. St. Helens and After Mt. St. Helens.

I was living on the fringes of the region at the time, an 11-year-old about to finish 6th grade in the small town of Filer, Idaho. I had a passing interest in the new leading up to the eruption, since I had family in Portland, and the summer camp facilities owned by the denomination in which my father pastored (Camp Lackamas, at that time owned by the Northwest District of the Missionary Church) lay between PDX and the volcano. And of course, everyone was watching to see if they could get Harry Truman down from his cabin at Spirit Lake before the eruption. they didn't. He refused to budge, and he died on his own terms.

When Mt. St. Helens erupted, it pulverized a cubic mile of mountain in seconds. The day after the mountain blew, the sky turned blood red in Filer from all the ash in the air, but we received almost none of it on the ground. Months later, I would visit Lackamas and find a good half inch of the stuff on everything. We swept it up and I kept a small amount in a film jar, but lost that years ago, For a long time, you could buy small vials of ash, and even glass ornaments blown from ash that had been collected and reheated, in just about any souvenir shop in the region.

The mountain became an intrinsic part of our culture -- especially in Washington, but throughout the region in general. In school, they showed us the film "Keeper of the Fire", which was about Mt. St. Helens, and which recounted a local Native American myth about the mountain. In the myth, there were two great warriors of a local tribe who both fell in love with the same woman -- the beautiful maiden who tended the tribe's fire. They both wanted her for their own, and so they fought for her. Their fight was so violent, and lasted so long, that it angered the gods, who put a curse on all three. They turned all three into mountains, with one of the warriors on either side of the maiden, where both could see her but neither could reach her. The two warriors are Mt. Adams in Washington and Mt. Hood in Oregon, and the maiden is Mt. St. Helens -- the Keeper of the Fire.

The biggest way in which Mt. St. Helens changed the region, though, is probably the way it changed how we look at our mountains. We have always loved the Cascades, and they are one of the features, along with the Pacific Ocean, that most define our region and our climate. They are beautiful mountains, with plenty of snow-capped peaks and vast foothills, and while there are higher ranged and more rugged ranges in North America, few if any are greener or more varied.

But before St. Helens, few people in this region, apart from geologists, paid much attention to their geological history. Now, we have been made startlingly aware of just how these mountains we love were formed. And we view them all a little differently. At least three peaks, including one within 100 miles of where I sit typing this, have the potential for erupting in my lifetime. Oregon's only National Park, Crater Lake, was formed by the eruption of a Cascade volcano. Now, when we look at the Three Sisters or Hood or Rainier, we are reminded just how dangerous and powerful these mountains are.

And I, for one, think it makes them all the more beautiful.

A Win for Wine

Thanks for the Memory to Ace of Spades.

Court Lets Wine Lovers to Buy Out-Of-State

WASHINGTON May 16, 2005 — Wine lovers may buy directly from out-of-state vineyards, the Supreme Court ruled Monday, striking down laws banning a practice that has flourished because of the Internet and growing popularity of winery tours.

This is a Supreme Court case I've been watching for some time, and the ruling is a big win for Oregon's wine industry. While Oregon does not produce as much wine as California or a couple of other states, our wineries produce some very high quality wines. Unfortunately, many states require that out of state wineries sell only to in-state wine distributors. Because many of our wineries are small operations, they often don't have the volume or market clout to even appear on a distributor's radar.

The arguments in this case were the states' constitutional right to regulate alchohol production vs. the rights of Interstate Commerce. Commerce won, and so did many of the small Oregon wineries.

And so did you, if you like good, reasonably priced wines.

Cross-Posted at Head West, Turn Right.

Update:

Despite his usual impeccible taste and class, The Maximum Leader misses the boat by expressing plans to order wine that exlude Oregon wineries.

May I humbly suggest that our esteemed erzats emperor, and all other regarded readers consider the following excellent Oregon Wineries:

Girardet Winery -- Their Barrel Select and Petit Cuvee are my two favorite Pinot Noirs.

Abacella Vineyards -- They pride themselves on their Spanish-style Tempranillo, but I prefer their excellent Cabernet Franc.

King Estate Winery -- Producing good wine at a reasonable price, they also have one of the prettiest wineries in the state (and that's saying something)!

Yes, Sir, That's My Baby

In response to all those who requested more pictures of The Lad:

Unfortunately, I have effectively rendered us sans digital imaging technology. However, the last time we had a couple of rolls developed, we ordered CD's too. So, without further ado,

The World's Most Beautiful Baby:


Start 'Em Young




Little Big Dog takes an early interest in The Lad (This photo was... umm... Digitally Cropped).


As you can see, we neglect LBD so....


A Happy Family


The Lad and his paternal grandmother


...and his maternal grandfather


And with his Godfather, Lurch (The Mini Me Pose).

Dogfight

Yesterday was absolutely gorgeous -- blue skies, somewhere in the 70's. The day before had been quite rainy and cool. that's the way Spring is in Oregon -- it comes in fits and starts, with an unexpected mixture of dry and wet, warm and cool. Don't like the weather? Give it fifteen minutes, it'll change. TFR tells me that Minnesota Springs are not like that -- she says that in the Twin Cities, if you blink, you miss the transition from bitter winter to blazing summer.

Spring days like yesterday tend to draw Oregonians out even more than nice summer days -- the more recent the cold, the more appreciated the warmth. I couldn't get out too much yesterday afternoon because the Lad had had a fussy morning, and was finally sleeping, but I stepped into the back yard for a few minutes, passing Little Big Dog over the fence to play with the neighbor dogs (a hyper Papillon and a cowardly Golden Retriever, whom LBD has completely cowed).

All of this is just to introduce what happened next, which was one of the most interesting things I've ever witnessed. As I stood at the fence talking to our neighbor, I heard a faint, high-pitched soundcoming from what seemed to be above. I looked up to see a large bird soaring towards me. At first, I thouight it was a turkey vulture -- a very common carrion bird in these parts. But I noticed a couple of differences. This bird was much bigger, the wings didn't have the right shape, or the split finger-like feathers, and the head was white, not the hairless red of a buzzard.

It was a bald eagle.

Bald eagles aren't that rare in this part of the country, I've seen them numerous times around lakes and rivers up in the Cascades, and even on one occasion circling over the river by a county park just outside of town, but from the angle he was approaching, he had to have flown right over downtown Springfield.

And that wasn't even the oddest thing about the sight. As he flew, his course was not as straight and graceful as normal. As my eyes focused, I noticed that another bird was wheeling and circling the eagle, swooping in and trying to strike. It was obvious that the smaller bird was the aggressor, and the eagle was trying to get away as quickly as he could. And most interesting of all, the other bird was also a raptor. It was one of the Osprey that are so numerous here in the Northwest. Both the bald eagle and the osprey are fishing birds, and I live less than a mile from the Willamette River.

Now, I've seen smaller birds chase of bigger birds before. In fact, a few days ago, standing at the window at work, I watched another osprey (I work even closer to the Willamette than I live) being driven off by a pair of corvids. From a distance I couldn't tell if they were ravens or crows. I've seen crows chase ravens. I've seen sparrows chase both. Hummingbirds are absolutely vicious when it comes to this behavior. But I'd never seen a raptor-on-raptor fight like this before.

Given that they're competitors for fish, and I believe osprey are territorial, I shouldn't be surprised. But I couldn't help but be fascinated by what I saw.

Note to Pat Buchanan: Lay Off the Cough Syrup

Thanks for the Memory to my good buddy Vulture 6 over at Vulture's Row.

Apparently, Pat Buchanan questions the validity of defeating Nazi Germany in World War II:

On the radio and Internet, Buchanan framed his positions as amplification of remarks made over the weekend by President George W. Bush that the pact ending the war brought on a Stalinist domination that was "one of the greatest wrongs of history."

Yes, Stalinism WAS one of the greatest wrongs of history. Right up there with the equally heinous wrong that was the Holocaust. The fact that it took us until the 80's to defeat one doesn't mean we shouldn't have fought the other.

But Buchanan's comments on the Don Imus radio show and in an essay posted on the Web site of his organization, The American Cause, went much further. He suggested that because Germans voted Hitler in, they did not need to be liberated, and that Britain and France drew Germany into the wider conflict.

Um... Earth to Pat. Sprechen zie "Lebensraum"? Remember the Sudetenland? Poland? The camps?

He did not mention Jews or the Holocaust - the most outrageous omission for Yaffa Eliach, a Holocaust expert and survivor.

Not just for Yaffa, actually. Trivializing 6 million deaths tends to get under the skin of ANYONE with even a modicum of decency.

Former Mayor Ed Koch offered this blunt rebuttal: "I believe that no decent human being should ever sit down at the same table with Pat Buchanan and I am shocked that otherwise responsible, respectable citizens share platforms with him on Sunday shows."

Absolutely right, for once, Ed. I am amazed and ashamed that Buchanan was once considered a contender for the presidential candidacy of my party. What a maroon.

Update: I'm as hesitant as anyone to play the Race card, but in the case of Buchanan, I think that Ace is right.

Update II: Thanks for the Memory to The Maximum Leader. He links to an excellent essay by the esteemed Victor David Hansen which, while not directed specifically at Buchanan, provides ample ammunition for rebuttal of his view.

Anybody But Anybody But Bush

Thanks for the Memory to Vultures Row.

Interesting news today. Howard Dean, Chairman of the Democratic National Convention, has endorsed a candidate for U.S. Senate in Vermont. Interestingly enough, the candidate in question isn't a Democrat. He's an independent.

Not so big a deal, you might argue, since Vermont's exiting Indie Senator, Jim Jeffords, leaned to the Democratic side, and the endorsement is strategic, since anyone who can defeat a Republican is good news for the Dems. But here's the catch -- Bernard Sanders leans even farther leftwards than Jeffords. In fact, he leans even farther than most Democrats would like to admit they lean. Sanders is a Socialist.

My good friend Vulture six maintains that this support by Dean indicates either Socialist tendencies on the part of Dean, or a calculated willingness to overlook Sanders' socialism just to stick it to the Republicans.

I'd be willing to consider the possibility of both options being true. The most influential Democratic President of the Twentieth Century, F.D.R., was definitely a socialist, and most liberal domestic policies smack of at least small-s socialism. The difference between the Dems and Sanders is more a matter of degrees than of kind, and when compared to Dean, even the degree is hard to distinguish.

But I've also noticed a willingness among the left, especially among the more radical Democrats and the leadership (less so among rank-and-file Democrats who tend to be idealists), to get in bed with the most odious elements of the left if that's what it takes to defeat the Republicans. This is reflected in the "Anybody but Bush" tone during the elections, as well as in expressions by notable leftists like Michael Moore, expressing hope that insurgents in Iraq would succeed in inflicting more casualties just so Bush's election chances would be damaged.

Again, while I know many who lean farther to the left than I who truly believe they are fighting for good, and while politicians in general tend to Macchiavellianism, the level to which the DNC has taken it in recent years is truly frightening.

Recommended Reading

Blogfather Rusty has posted an excellent piece on comparisons between Communism and Naziism.

Actually, his piece is a review of an equally well-written article in the Washington Times, so he had a head start, but his additional comments are well worth the read.

Forewarned is Forearmed

Thanks for the Memory to Lars Larson.

Sex offenders may be forced to drive vehicles with pink license plates

According to the article, Ohio is considering a law that would require that registered sex offenders be issued special plates for their cars. The plates would be all pink (why that color I don't know, other than high visibility), and the rationale is that children would know which vehicles to stay away from.

I don't know what Ohio's paws regarding sex offenders already are, so this might be a "band-aid" law, but if it's being proposed in conjunction with other effective laws, I'm all for it. Anything to help protect our children from real monsters.

Slainte Mhath! (Indeed!)

The word Whisky comes from the Gaelic uisge beatha, which is translated "Water of Life". The traditional Gaelic toast is Slainte (in Ireland, Slainte Mhath in Scotland), which is translated "health".

Appropriate.

Defining Irony

An avowed atheist referring to "religious intolerance", and then declaring that "Religion is for chumps."

Believe whom?

Forcing My Hand

I was trying to avoid commenting on the whole brouhaha regarding First Lady Laura Bush and her jokes the other night, only because it seems like everyone is getting WAY too worked up over what should be a non-issue. Unfortunately, it's the level 0f worked-uppedness that has forced my hand. That and the fact that it ties in to several other issues that have worked their way under my skin under the guise of "Church-State Issues".

For the record, I think that the level of offense some have taken with the First Lady's comments is a bit Sullivanesque. Lighten up -- the event has ALWAYS been irreverent, and the Horse joke specifically has been misinterpreted.

On the other hand, I also think that those defending Mrs. Bush have also taken this one not just over the top, but through the wire and well into No Man's Land. I'm getting a bit tired of the chracterization of anyone with a modicum of morals as being a repressed Victorian prude. There's nothing wrong with a little proper decorum and respect for one anothers sensibilities.

Now, to be sure, there are some morally conservative people, most of whom are Christian,s who are overreacting. But to paint all Christians, or even all social conseervatives, with the same brush is a bit much. Today Ace posted an excellent bit on the current friction between religious and non-religious conservatives. I think he's dead on. In addition, there's a good and lively discussion going on in the comments. I especially appreciated this comment by Ace's reader Jason:

Well, this just depends on who you consider the "Religious Right" to be. If you're referring to any conservative who has the audacity to be religious, then it's simply not true. If you're referring to specific religious conservatives, it's true, but trivial. You can point to members of any political group that demand 100% compliance.

Also today I noted that the esteemed Smallholder addresses persecution. Twice. While I agree whole-heartedly that the characterization of ANY opposition to Christianity as persecution trivializes real persecution, I'd beg to make two points:
1. I have heard the argument before that Christians here keep whining about persecution. A good friend of mine made the same observation on his Blog. However, with the exception of a few loudmouths who get more attention than they deserve and whom one can almost dismiss out of hand any time they speak, I quite honestly don't hear the "P" word being used as much as Smallholder seems to indicate.

2. Having said that, let me address Smallholder's comment, It's not Christians who are persecuted. We are doing the persecution (though not all of us agree with it).

Again, any reasoned agreement or disagreement with this statement on my part would require that I extract from Smallholder a definition of Persecution. Included in that definition there would necessarily be either an acceptance or rejection of degrees of persecution. In one Blog Entry, he states that real persecution would be execution for ones faith. In another, limiting tax benefits is persecution. This leads me to believe that he must at least recognize varying degrees of persecution as still being persecution.

Furthermore, I must take exception with his comment, So when my coreligionists whine about the persecution of not having Principal-led prayer in the public schools, I become a bit indignant. I become indignant when Pat Roberston complains that extending civil rights to gays "persecutes" believers.

I do hope he really doesn't think that that is the extent of the objections many Christians have with our treatment in modern society. But I will reserve further reaction until he has clarified.

A few days ago, my good friend and reader Mary left a comment asking me if I feel any moral obligation to provide for public education. I shall address her here, because itis, as you will see, germain to the crux of my post. I do geel a moral obligation to help others -- to give to the poor, to help provide those in need with that which will help them. But as I've stated before, when it comes to translating my personal morals into political policy, there's a fine line to be walked. As Ace argues in his article, it is unfair to expect people of religious convictions to not apply those convictions to the way they vote. Because, as his reader hobgoblin points out, ALL law is morality. Anything we require or prohibit by law is because the majority have determined that that which is required is morally necessary and because that which is prohibited is morally wrong. The question is, whose morals? Which morals? Which morals supercede other morals -- freedom vs. Justice, for instance? In the long run, it seems to me that the best laws are those which enforce the moral concept of not doing wrong to others. Once we get into the realm of forcing people to do good to one another, the law becomes a bit too intrusive, and open to debate. And that is why I can see the point of those who think that taxes for public education is not as morally or legally necessary as, say, fire or police or defense or tort laws.

It Just Dawned on Me

Back in my high school days, when my father was pastoring a church in Southern Oregon, my mother used to sing trios in church along with a musically inclined couple who also led our youth group. One of the songs they sang quite often was called Bless the Lord. The theme running through the song was that the beauty surrounding the songwriter moved them to praise God. The opening line of the song was "Morning Sun, light of creation..."

Ever since TFR went back to work, I've been working an earlier shift, 6 AM - 3 PM. Today, as I was standing next to my desk, looking out the window, I was reminded of that song. There's something special about the quality of lighting at sunrise, especially somewhere as beautiful as here in Oregon. The sun is still low enough that it doesn't flood the entire landscape, so taller things like trees are lit more brightly, giving them greater contrast -- they almost glow. This time of year, the deciduous trees have new leaves which are a light, bright green, magnifying the contrast when compared to the darker green of the conifers. I remember a visitor who mentioned to me once that what struck them most about Oregon was not just how much green there was, but how many different hues and shades of green there were.

I could get used to being a morning person.

May's Days

Quite a busy week as far as the minor holiday calendar goes.

Growing up I used to love to celebrate May Day - not Soviet style, with parades and MiG flyovers, but by leaving flowers on the doorsteps of neighbors. As a child in Idaho, I had a neighbor in her 80's, Mrs. Brown, on whose doorstep I'd leave paper baskets full of dandelions. I'd ring her doorbell and then run, so that the flowers would be "anonymous".

Thursday is, of course, Cinco de Mayo, which commemorates a Mexican victory over French troops at the Battle of Puebla. And as a run-up to it, Saturday was Camerone Day, the day the French Foreign Legion commemorates a tactical defeat that established their reputstion as brave, fierce fighters.

And next Sunday is Mother's Day. NOt so minor for me this year. The Lad (*ahem*) has already purchased his Mommy a present -- a set of earrings and a pendant in his birthstone.

Not much esle to say right now, maybe more on these topics after I wake up.

Sense and Censorship

I just received an email from a good friend, and the email included a link to the following article, along with the suggestion that I Blog on it:

Alabama Bill Targets Gay Authors

At first blush, I was rather disturbed by the idea. Especially when the article starts out like this:


(CBS) A college production tells the story of Matthew Sheppard, a student beaten to death because he was gay.

And soon, it could be banned in Alabama.



As soon as I read that, I got fired up, all ready to launch into a "What part of no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; didn't you understand?" rant.

Please understand. As a thelogically conservative Christian, I believe that the practice of homosexuality is immoral. But I aslo believe strongly that when we start playing favorites with regards to the Consititution, we're treading on a mighty thin lava crust over a mighty deep pool of magma. The same Constitution that protects your right to tell me that Homosexuality is OK is the same Constitution that protects my right to tell you you're wrong. If I kick that right out from under you, I find mself at risk as well.

But as I read the article further, I started to question my initial impression. It seems possible that the CBS News reporter who filed this report may have sensationalized things a bit (As shocking as it may be to some to think that CBS might be... ahem... creative in their presentation...). The article goes on to say:


As CBS News Correspondent Mark Strassmann reports, under [Alabama lawmaker Gerald Allen's] bill, public school libraries could no longer buy new copies of plays or books by gay authors, or about gay characters.



While that's still an iffy proposition, that's a bit different than "banned in Alabama". So before I address the issue of the bill itself, I'd like to finish the article, and point out one other bit of overreacting, this time on the part of an interviewee:

"I think it's an absolutely absurd bill," says Mark Potok of the Southern Poverty Law Center.

First Amendment advocates say the ban clearly does amount to censorship.

"It's a Nazi book burning," says Potok. "You know, it's a remarkable piece of work."



Try to take a deep breath, Mark. I understand your opposition to the law, but Godwinesque hyperbole isn't helping. It may (or may not) be a bad law, but it's by NO stretch a "Nazi Book burning". If it were, there'd be, ya know, Nazis and bonfires and such.

Now, as for the law itself:

I have a real dilemma on my hands with regards to this law. The problem is that it specifically targets public school libraries. In the article, Strassman reports


Librarian Donna Schremser fears the "thought police," would be patrolling her shelves.

"And so the idea that we would have a pristine collection that represents one political view, one religioius view, that's not a library,'' says Schremser.



Again, Schremser's overstating the point, so I'll return the favor. I have NO problem whatsoever with the judicious screening of material made available to underage children. Ms. Schremser seems to disagree, and thinks all viewpoints should be represented. Should I conclude then that she advocate the placement of Playboy or Hustler or The Anarchist's Cookbook in an elementary school library? I think not. so if we eliminate the extremes, both "This is thought police" and "This is pornography", we find that there's a middle ground -- the agreement that Children DO need a certain level of protection from images or words that could damage them. The question becomes, which images? Which ideas? The Devil is in the details.

Now, I would argue that banning an author JUST because he or she was/is gay is a stretch. And I furthermore have no objection to the sympathetic portrayal of a gay character. I'd draw the line at the graphic portrayal of sex, gay OR straight. But in the middle we have the issue of literature that advocates the gay lifestyle.

Which leads me to a conclusion I reached only as I wrote this entry. I believe firmly that it is the right and duty of parents to teach their children morality and ethics. First and forempst my job is to love my son, provide for him, and teach him right from wrong. That's not a school's job. And so I would argue that it would be fair to regulate books that directly address moral issues -- either allow all viewpoints (which means requiring that P.S. Libraries stock books that both advocate and oppose a given moral viewpoint), or remain silent on all viewpoints (which means requiring that P.S. Libraries avoid stock books that either advocate and oppose a given moral viewpoint).

In addition, I also believe that if parents were more actively involved with their childrens' educations, this would be an issue. That's why I'll be keeping a close eye on the TV programs, movies, music, and books The Lad has access to growing up. It's also one more reason I'm seriously looking long and hard at home schooling.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes....

Amazing how fatherhood changes your perspective. This week has been the first week of a new schedule, in which I care for The Lad in the afternoons while TFR works. Yesterday was an absolutely GORGEOUS spring day, somewhere in the high 60's, scattered clouds, the kind of day that Nor'Westers keep reminding themselves will come as they wait all winter. So I loaded The Lad into his stroller, leashed up Little Big Dog, and headed out for a walk through the park. On the way there, we were passed by a man walking a very large dog. The dog was straining at its leash, but we managed to pass each other without incident. But it got me thinking: What if it had attacked us? How would I defend both The Lad and LBD? And I knew in an instant that if I couldn't, I'd lose my dog, because my child's life was the most important of the three in question. And I also knew in an instant that if I had to, I'd kill that dog, or anyone or anything trying to harm my son.

I constantly find myself doing this now, and I suppose it's a parent thing. Everywhere I go, every setting in which I find myself, my first instinct is to size up my surroundings and evaluate any possible threats to my little family, and assess what I will do to respond if any of those potential threats become actual threats.

I suppose I'm no different than any other parent, but it's disconcerting when you realize it's happened to you.