Mr. Den Beste is at his Beste.

Roe v. Wade It's a little past the anniversary, but what the hey... I've read most of the arguments pro and con over legalized abortions. My sentiments lie towards the pro-life side, although not strongly. I do, however, have a solution to the problem that I've been advocating for a number of years. I know it's the right solution, because it makes sense, and leaves pretty much every one unhappy. The salient question with regards to abortion is "When does a zygote/embryo/fetus constitute a living being?" The arguments either way range from birth to conception, with the current law falling in between at a point that call "viability" -- the point where a fetus can survive on its own, outside the mother's body. This point is vague, since some babies born at 25 weeks survive, and some born at 40 weeks can't survive regardless of the measures taken. Arbitrarily, the courts have placed "viability" at the beginning of the third trimester. Viability is a vague concept, at best. So let's go with something more concrete. Life support mechanisms have introduced a whole slew of laws that relate to the ending of life. Depending upon the state, it ranges from absence of self sustained heartbeat, to absence of certain levels of brain activity, to a combination of these and other factors. Most states have a pretty solid definition of the end of life. Logically, it would seem, the same standards should be applied to the beginning of life. If a fetus can sustain a heartbeat, shows certain levels of brain activity, and otherwise fits the state's criterion for being alive, the fetus should have a right to life. Since heartbeat occurs so early in the pregnancy (8 weeks), brain activity is probably a better measure of the "life" of the fetus. This applies some consistency within the law. For instance, a person bcan be very much alive even though they rely on outside mechanisms (Iron lung, dialyses, heart lung machine, pacemaker, etc.), just a fetus can be alive even though it relies upon the umbilical and placenta. This strikes me as emminently reasonable and balanced. And the pro-lifers and pro-choicers will both dislike it, which makes the probability of it being an accurate resolution all the more likely. Update :: Edited some typos.

Never mind; it seems to be corrected now... Some one email me if you read this stuff. I need a little stroking :-)

Yeah, the email like at the bottom of each post is hosed. And I've fixed the template. Ang Blogger won't pick it up for some reason... Grrrrr....

Love in a Cup Mornings are interesting. Starting at 0500, I get to wake to the melodious burbles of my favorite piece of technology, the self-timed coffee pot. Provided I remember to assemble the ingredients the night before, the coffee comes to life at 0500. By 0520, when the dog has been out for his daily duty, the coffee is done and all that remains for my morning is to fetch a cup and the newpaper for a casual hour or two with FoxNews, the daily comics, and beloved coffee. My dad started me on the morning rituals. When I was a kid, I played in a hockey league for the couple years we lived in Wilmington, MA. I'd have games at 0600 on Saturday morning, a time when most kids are dead asleep. So my fahter suggested i have some coffee one morning. I was about ten. Say what you will -- one cup of coffee has less caffiene than a coke (well, not the way I make it), and less sugar. I'd always liked the smell, now I get the full effect. I can operate without coffee, unlike many cafaddicts. I think much of the effect of it on me is purely psychological. The routine of the morning cup stabilises the day. The morning drifts from its moorings without it. I can measure the morning by the three or so cups I have. If I'm rushed, two cups, typoically three, if i have time, four or more. Sunday mornings are the leisurely ones. I still get up at five, walk the dog, get the paper, and then get a cup. I can park my butt on the couch and relax. It'll be three or more hours until I decide to wake Sweet Jessica, and the solitude of the morning refreshes nearly as much as the night of sleep. When she wakes, I don't feel rushed to get things done, because I've accomplished something, either a little laundry, dishes, or some writing. I've read the paper. I've reviewed the news of the day. I've found that the normal course of events is still in place. Life feels good.

The French Connection The French are attempting to delay and/or block the upcoming War with Iraq. Word on the street is that France is concerned about the terms of surrender. President Chirac was overheard complaining that the Iraqis don't treat prisoners nicely.

Football around the world... Yassar Arafat has placed an appeal with the NFL to allow a new team, the Jerusalem Martyrs. Word has it that he will coach the team, and that the initial lineup is set. Apparently the team is weak on defense, but has an explosive offence...

We came, we saw, we bowled Since we haven't much money and lots of time, we've joined a bowling league. It's a low scoring league, intended for the less than serious bowler. Last night was my first to bowl, and my opportunity to establish an average for the league, and for handicapping purposes. Naturally, I bowled well above my normal capabilities. I averaged 152. That's because I tossed a 192 for my second game. Holy cow, how did I do that? I started off astoundingly well -- for the first six frames, I threw five strikes and one spare. I did reasonable well for the last few frames, although not as astonishingly a well as the first six. I think part of it was the choice of balls available at this alley. There are small to XXL finger holes available for all size balls. instead of being bound by a 16 lb ball, I could throw a twelve or fourteen pounder. This improved my accuracy. I also moved myself from the furthest line to the middle line for my approach. It worked like a charm. I started it at the end of the first game, and threw two spares and three strikes. It gained momentum through the six frames of the second game, and it just rocked. I still came close to a lot of strikes -- balls where if I'd managed to place the ball alightly to the right, it would have gotten the five pin. I think I was losing control at that point, as I guttered a ball or two and basically threw like crap. towards the end. My muscles in my forearm were losing strength and control went out the window. I started using my shoulder for control, not my wrist, and that simply doesn't work as well -- larger muscle groups have more difficulty with fine control that smaller muscle groups. I ended up with a 44 handicap -- I hope my future play justifies it.

An Ode to my Father... Mothers drive us nuts, fathers drive us to dinner. That seems to be the sentiment amongst the folks I've casually interviewed. Mothers, perhaps becaus they are there for all the things we do wrong, and are the place to which we tend to retreat as a very small child, tend to have a more apparent surface influence than dads do. So, here's to Dad. Here's some of the stuff i learned from him, directly or indirectly. Never panic over money, or much of anything else -- Problems like money issues tend to resolve themselves if you keep pecking at them. A change in income, or a loss such as a theft or accident, or some unexpected bill, can all cause stress and panic. Taking your time to tend to these issues carefully will find solutions -- sometimes short term, often long term. Short on cash? Eat ramen noodles until the next payday, and get by without something you might otherwise buy. Use a cheaper alternative, go without, cut back. Whatever it takes. My father showed me that the Calvin Coolidge approach often works -- 9 out of 10 problems rolling down the road at you will slide off into the ditch. The rest can be dealt with as they come. Rarely does a problem merit wailing ang gnashing of teeth. Wailing and gnashing teeth doesn't fis the problem, it only creates future dentists bills, and it can really piss of the neighbors. A good book is as good as it gets -- My dad read a lot. Magazines, books, newspapers, whatever. He was well informed and a very smart man. Rise early and enjoy the morning -- Dad was up at 0500 to read the paper and have his coffee, a habit I follow now that I'm grown. It's the best part of the day -- the solitude of a house in the predawn hours is a peace you can't find elsewhere. You have time to gree tthe day with a little bit of a plan. If you're going to leave, leave at dawn -- No one is on the road at 0530... except for me. Dad would load up the car, get us kids in the back, my mother up front, and we'd be on the road. We kids would wake up a few hours later, the sun in our face and the world outside the car windows completely different. Adn we'd have lots of time during the day to stop and see the sites, without sacrificing the distances traveled. We saw more on family vacations that I could imagine possible. Build it yourself -- Whether it's a kit desk from Office Max, or a rebuilding the entire kitchen, do it as much as possible by yourself. Every task was possible for my father, from skylights to kitchen cabinets to radio towers. He was an engineer by trade, and a genuine jack of all trades. He could do magic with wood, and fortunately I carry a little of that in my bones. I build a lot of what I need, and I do pretty well. Keep the peace -- My mother is a little reactionary (and if she reads this, I'll definitely hear about it). My father was good at interceding and settling her down, acting as a judiciary for the household. He was immenently fair, and reasonable. He once had an angry side, but it vanished when very young -- probably because my dad stopped drinking. Sometimes he would yell and shout, but the man I remember rarely felt the need to scream and yell. Explore the world -- My fahter loved the backroads. He'd use the highway and interdates when needed, but in general he'd make a little extra time to see what was off the beaten track. He found charms that beguiled me -- little restaurants, little towns, and beautiful places that no one really knew about. he spent a lot of time driving to visit the various County Seats in Texas, to see the old courthouses. I remember trips down backroads, through towering cornfields, past waving wheat, through horsefarms, beside streams and rivers. I remember the feel of the road, never a lonely place, always inviting. Put down roots, but don't become rootbound -- We moved alot when I was a kid. My father was in a business that sometimes required relocation. I grew up in Minnesota, Washington, Massachussetts, but mostly in Texas. I don't live in Texas anymore, although I am a Texan through and through. I know when to pick up and replant myslef. When you do it, you tear off some of the smaller roots, but you make the taproot stronger. You are self sufficient, even if you don't know it -- My dad solved so many problems in ingenious ways. He never stopped seeking a solution. he found ways to advance in his busniess, keep his hobbies alive, and to have time with family and friends. He never seemed to absolutely need anyone else. He would read, ask questions, and find solutions. he knew that the answers were there, even if he didn't know the answer yet. Everyone is a friend, at least at first -- My fahter passed away as a well loved man. He had no enemies. He was well known for his sense of humor, and I watched literally hundreds of people at his memorial. He never refused to help his friends. he offered his truck to people needing to move, his hands and skills to help bring a car back from the dead, and his mind to find solutions where none seemed to exist. He did this for everyone. Teach what you know -- He didn't really take that tack that his duty was to teach. He just did things, and although he sometimes fell short, when we wanted to try something he'd guide us in a way that reminded us that nothing was impossible. My father has been dead for a little over two years now. I've refrained from eulogizing the old man -- I'm not as sentimental as some, and other problems have pushed Dad's memories to the back burner for a while. But now the time seems right.

WWJD? (What Would Jesus Drop?) Jesus was a peaceful dude, dedicated to bringing the people of the World up to speed on God and Goodness and all that. He dis, however, talk of War. Jesus would have understood a Just War, a time to go forth and smite the crap out of your enemies. Jesus knew that teh weak an ddowntrodden needed a leg up, and if giving them that leg up meant killing their oppressors. Jesus even said he came to lay down the smack -- "Think not that I came to send peace on the earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword." Matthew 26:51 Jesus came to kick ass and take names. So, given that technology has advanced over the years, we must ask, What Would Jesus Drop?" Seeing that Jesus wants to make the evil ones his bitches, and leave the rest to lives of peace, Jesus would make use lots of precision munitions. The lightning strike, the pillar of fire, the big ol' bear to eat your enemies -- Jesus has at hand the finest of God's own Artillery. And God doesn't miss. There is know such thing as friendly fire for the wrath of God -- Jesus has the Intel to drop a hot one right down your shorts. So, what would Jesus Drop? Jesus would drop a JDAM guided pillar of fire into Saddam's lap. Think of it -- the Prince of Peace calls in an airstrike right through the roof. Saddam's minions flip out as the old moustache bursts into flame, scarring the ceiling with his ashen remnants. Jesus wouild drop down a big wallop of wrath, and free the Iraqi people. C'mon, Jesus, let's go kick some Iraqi ass...