tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32853912024-03-08T13:11:59.721-05:00Blog of Xanadu...Motorcycles, Politicks, gaming, writing MS-Windows software, and general geekiness.Joshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069535171036051475noreply@blogger.comBlogger251125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3285391.post-888776742003-02-10T18:30:00.000-05:002003-02-10T18:30:48.603-05:00The Blog of Xanadu has moved!
Go <a href="http://www.blog.garageofxanadu.com">here</a>!Joshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069535171036051475noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3285391.post-888579742003-02-10T12:00:00.000-05:002003-02-10T12:00:13.030-05:00<b>Gimme gimme shock treatment</b>
Okay, the melancholy of the morning has been blown into the weeds. I put Tori Amos aside and on a whim put in the Ramones.
Talk about a change of pace -- Tori Amos is akin to walking alone through a drab November landscape, while the Ramones are more akin to riding a racebike at high speed on a white hot summer afternoon. It definitely clears the head.
Oh, and Dee Dee Ramone was a Reaganite. All the better...Joshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069535171036051475noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3285391.post-888515682003-02-10T09:45:00.000-05:002003-02-10T09:45:25.890-05:00<b>Moving the keys...</b>
I'm a fairly big music person. I have no talent to create music whatsoever, but I can appreciate the work of others.
Tori Amos is one artist for whom I have immense respect, at least for her music. I know her only through the mask of recorded sound.
Her 1991 release "Little Earthquakes" is one of the best CDs I've ever put in a player. The music is consistently good, and drags hard at my heart. This is what I'm listening to right now, even as I type. "Little Earthquakes" allows me to wallow for a little while in the grief, to be subjected to the catharsis that the Greeks believed so important for the audience of tragedy.
It's not that my life is tragedy -- it's not. But we all have tragic moments; the loss of a father, a baby, the bittersweet transitions of life. The times when we know things must change, and when we shuffle our feet to a different beat, to a different sound, to a different destination.
We must mourn, because we cannot contain our lives completely into ourselves, and it must leak from our souls and spill to the ground, where instead of a bitter poison, it becomes a sweet water that nourishes the seeds of our new future.
Joshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069535171036051475noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3285391.post-888509942003-02-10T09:32:00.000-05:002003-02-10T09:33:10.000-05:00<b>Moving to MT...</b>
I'm slowly moving the blog to my own hierarchy at the <a href="http://www.garageofxanandu.com">Garage of Xanadu</a>. It's not quite ready yet, but it's getting there.
Joshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069535171036051475noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3285391.post-887105802003-02-07T11:10:00.000-05:002003-02-07T11:15:10.000-05:00<b>Welcome to Comrade Kim's Korean Restaurant</b>
Welcome to Comrade Kim's North Korean Restaurant. Pay no attention to the razor wire. Please take a seat.
We have two specials today, depending upon your preference. First, we have a lovely cutting of fresh grass, served on a plain white plate.
If this delicacy is not to your liking, we have an alternative special -- the Blue Plate Special. It consists of a blue plate. No, there is nothing on the plate, that's what makes it special.
Do I hear complaints? Then we must beat you, or shoot you. Here at Comrade Kim's we allow no dissent. You will have your Blue Plate Special and be grateful for the generosity of the proprietor.
Oh, I am so sorry, but you cannot leave. once you're here, you will stay. The door is locked, the doorman has a rifle, and the front stoop is laced with landmines. There is an exit to the rear, but it only leads to a Chinese restaurant who has also locked their door. They will send you back here if they catch you. And then we will make sure that justice is served, here at Comrade Kim's.Joshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069535171036051475noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3285391.post-887099632003-02-07T10:56:00.000-05:002003-02-07T10:58:18.000-05:00<b>New Links</b>
Look Left. Tweaked, too...Joshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069535171036051475noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3285391.post-887002642003-02-07T06:41:00.000-05:002003-02-07T09:59:57.000-05:00<b>A Loss of Life</b>
It's been a couple months, so I guess it's time to write about this.
Jessica and I lost a baby around Christmas time. It was an early pregnancy loss, but that does not eliminate the grief and pain. Jessica took the loss hard, understandably so, since she was feeling the changes associated with pregnancy. I was only seeing the external results of physiological interactions. While it was only reality to me, Jessica was living it.
We have been trying for a few months. What does that mean? That means that we were tracking her temps, keeping track of days when she might be ovulating and when we were trying to conceive. We were monitoring all the various things recommended by the book <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/0060937645/qid=1044617882/sr=2-1/104-0476346-4595927?v=glance&s=books">Taking Charge of Your Fertility</a></i>. We were aware of when things were right for the possibility of a pregnancy.
The end result was a positive in late November, 2002. We looked carefully at the little purple lines and determined that the results were Good. Huzzah!
Jess went to her OB/GYN and got the relevant blood tests, which confirmed the pee strips. They scheduled another test a few days later to determine if the hormone levels were rising at a fast enough rate. In a nutshell, they weren't. More tests followed, with the hormone levels rising, although too slowly to be certain of a good pregnancy. Two ultrasounds showed nothing discernable. It was plausible that the growing baby would not be visible at 6-7 weeks, but at the second ultrasound at eight weeks, something should be visible.
Then the hormone levels dropped. Not much, just a smidge, but enough to cause the doctor to discuss the possibility of an ectopic pregnancy, and the ramifications and solutions to such a problem. We weren't certain it was an ectopic, but all signs pointed down that road. The end result was a forced termination.
The method was chemical -- a cancer drug called Methotrexane. Methotrexane attacks fast growing cells. It's a liquid, delivered by needle, and in amounts that are astounding. Sometimes, it doesn't work right off, and you need a second or third injection. It gets injected deep into your buttocks, like a gamma globulin.
Jess had to endure two sets of two shots each. They left her sore for a day or two, and her HCG levels began to drop rapidly after the second. Her menses returned about two weeks after the second shot. Her HCG levels are dropping slowly to zero, the tide of life receding. It's over.
The loss of our first in this way has left Jess scared of future attempts. She's had roughly twenty blood tests over the last three months, and the methotrexane shots caused her a lot of pain, physically and emotionally.
She had experienced all the early pregnancy signs. We were talking about the necessary arrangements for the coming baby, and when to tell people. I was in and out of work a lot to provide emotional support for her at all the tests and fianlly for the Methotrexane shots. She cried more than I did, although we both had our tears and sobs for a lost little one. I still hold her a lot to keep the demons at bay. She marks the passage of time relative to the pregnancy -- this week she would have been entering the second trimester.
We're wounded. It feels a little like a curse has been placed on us. Jessica is deathly afraid of having to go through the difficulty of an ectopic again, although she is eager to start trying to conceive as soon as the doctor okays it.
I'm quietly hopeful. We know that the hardware works, and the chance of a second ectopic is low. That provides hope. Hope, however, can never fill the hole that's been left by the loss of our first.Joshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069535171036051475noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3285391.post-886864132003-02-06T23:01:00.000-05:002003-02-07T09:04:17.000-05:00<b>Battle of the FTPs</b>
I'm a cheap bastard. I like freeware, shareware, anything-I-don't-have-to-pay-for-ware.
As such, for a long time, I've used <a href="http://www.ipswitch.com/Products/WS_FTP/">WS_FTP</a> for my website maintenance (and blogger for my blog).
I just tried the evaluation version of <a href="http://www.cuteftp.com/cuteftp/">CuteFTP</a>. In the immortal words of Keanu Reeves -- Whoa.
I guess I need to buy some software...Joshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069535171036051475noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3285391.post-886858592003-02-06T22:50:00.000-05:002003-02-06T22:50:28.316-05:00Rain and snow, rain and snow...
C'mon, weather, make up your mind. I despise this wintery mix crap...Joshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069535171036051475noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3285391.post-885993662003-02-05T12:43:00.000-05:002003-02-05T12:44:29.000-05:00<b>Colin Powell's Theme Song</b>
<i>He likes wearin' moustache, He likes French cuisine
but we won't let him use his weapons, until he's in a mausoleum.
We got him under pressure,
We got him under pressure.
Nukes in the art museum, bio weapons in the dog.
He foams at the mouth to use 'em, Hides his weapons in a London fog.
He don't like other leaders, He likes whips and chains.
He likes champagne, and beatin' out poor Kurd brains.
He is not all we can handle, we're too much for his brain.
We got him under pressure,
We got him under pressure.
We're gonna give him a message,
here's what we're gonna say:
'It's all over.'
He might get out a nightstick
so we'll hurt him real real bad
by the roadside in a ditch.
We got him under pressure,
We got him under pressure.
We got him under pressure,
We got him under pressure. </i>
My sincere apologies to ZZ Top...
Joshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069535171036051475noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3285391.post-885902792003-02-05T09:26:00.000-05:002003-02-05T09:26:54.620-05:00<b>Hold Music</b>
Have you ever thoguht about why businesses do some of the things they do? Some things that seem to make no sense may perform a function that you never think thye would.
This morning I had to call the customer service line for the local newspaper. I recevied a long message telling me that all the service reps were busy and that one would be with me shortly, the typical hold message. The message ended by telling me that it would be followed by silence.
<i>Silence</i>. No hold music. Nothing.
And silence it was.
It was unnerving. Cradling the phone, but listening to <i>nothing</i>. I felt oddly frightened, as though the killer had snipped my only connection to the outside world, to the information services, and now he was coming for ME! Paranoia began to cloud my thoughts. Was he waiting in the supply closet? Around the corner? Was he watching me through the windows, seeing my every move, knowing what I would do next? Was he savoring my fear, drawing energy from my fright? Should I get the knife from the kitchen, see if I could find a gun in a desk? It anyone comes near me, it must be him. He seeks me, strives to take me away. I must strike first!
Then the line clicked, and the Customer Service Rep came on the line. My reality snapped back, and the tattered fringes of paranoia smoothed to whole cloth reality again.
Hold music, boring as it may be, may serve a deeper purpose. It may save lives, preventing the paranoid and frightened from stepping over the edge. Please, please, please give me some hold music when I'm waiting on the phone. My coworkers demand it.Joshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069535171036051475noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3285391.post-885893592003-02-05T09:04:00.000-05:002003-02-05T09:04:11.970-05:00<b>Dawn</b>
I wake in a grey room, with the lights out, and the golden sodium glow of the streetlamps spotting the walls. The dog lifts his head, curious, but not demanding. He rests it again on a paw, his token acknowledgement of my waking complete. I roll to my feet and dress. The sky is dark, rhinestone stars scattered in blue velvet.
Through the window, I see it begins.
The velvet tears at the edges, leaking light, bleaching away the stars and color. The cloth of night is dragged from our cage by inches, until the sun reveals itself at the edges of the earth, its golden glow spotting the wall. Dawn has come.Joshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069535171036051475noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3285391.post-885316172003-02-04T09:24:00.000-05:002003-02-04T09:24:15.163-05:00IMAO has a couple comments on <a href="http://www.imao.us/archives/000466.html#000466">Korea</a>. The closing line is priceless... Joshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069535171036051475noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3285391.post-884733922003-02-03T09:46:00.000-05:002003-02-03T09:46:33.373-05:00<b>Mel Brooks -- My oddball hero...</b>
<i>To Be, Or Not To Be</i>, <i>The Producers</i>, <i>History of the World, Pt. I</i> -- In his prime, Mel Brooks has been a force for laughter and humor. Even now, he's still one of the funniest men alive.
Mr. Brooks brought something special to the screen, some thing that couldn't have come from anyone else. It was in the Jewish jokes, the subtle and the blatant. It was in the portrayal of the purveyors of Evil -- the Nazis, Toquemada, Ceasar. It was the way everything was subject to ribbing, either harsh or gentle.
Mr. Brooks is a big part of the reason I became so aware of Judaism and what Jews had been through. But I didn't learn it as the Horrors of Humanity, I learned Jewish history through the eyes of a sympathetic man with gentle humor. History books told me the events, Mel Brooks showed me the humanity.
I later learned about the Holocaust from survivors, and from Jews who fled the Nazis, but Mel Brooks showed me early on that the people who survived history somehow managed to laugh again. It's not that the sorrow isn't there, but rather that it has passed. Some never learned to speak of it. Some wrote their stories. But they all learned to laugh again, even at themselves. Especially at themselves, since they knew where laughing at others could lead.
Mel Brooks is all that is great about Judaism. Warmth, humor, love, and integrity. The resilience to come back later and laugh even when the subject is your own lif or death.
Thank you, Mr. Brooks. Joshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069535171036051475noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3285391.post-883781322003-02-01T10:12:00.000-05:002003-02-01T10:12:42.710-05:00<b>Shuttle crash...</b>
It's not likely to be terrorism. At 200K feet (about 38 miles), and at a velocity of 12,500 mph, there are few missiles that could hit it. The ones that could are huge and require some serious technology.
The reports of the insulation striking the wing are not good -- the leading edge of the wing handles a lot of heat, and if a tile failed due to impact, it could lead to the wing getting effectivley burned off as the hot plasma from re-entry vaporizes the structure of the ship. The resulting tumble would cause the resultant loss of the ship. You can't tell much from the videos, but it looks like the ship broke up. If it lost the wing and tumbles, the top tiles wouldn't be able to handle the re-entry heat -- they aren't designed to handle it.
Say a prayer for the families of the crew. Joshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069535171036051475noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3285391.post-883776862003-02-01T09:57:00.000-05:002003-02-01T10:04:40.000-05:00<b>Loss of the Columbia</b>
<a href="http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,77253,00.html">Foxnews</a>
<a href="http://www.cnn.com/2003/TECH/space/02/01/shuttle.landing.ap/index.html">CNN</a>
<a href="http://www.msnbc.com/news/857733.asp?0cv=CA00">MSNBC</a>
<a href="http://abcnews.go.com/wire/US/ap20030201_582.html">ABC</a>
<a href="http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2003/02/01/tech/main538865.shtml">CBS</a>
UPDATE:
AP Newswire via <a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A10124-2003Feb1.html">Washington Post</a>
God rest their souls.Joshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069535171036051475noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3285391.post-883427252003-01-31T15:09:00.000-05:002003-01-31T15:09:34.426-05:00<b>Well, SOG me, Mr. President.</b>
Recent revalations about American <a href="http://abc.net.au/news/newsitems/s758236.htm">SOGs (Special Operations Groups) functioning within Iraq </a>raise the question -- Why??
The obvious explanation is pre-battle preparations -- intel operations, a little work towards raising a popular insurrection, etc., the usual pre-war stuff you do to ensure that you win.
I have a possible alternate explanation...
What if the SOGs, or at least a few of them, are working to seize at least a few chemical, biological, or nuclear agents to show to the world what Hussein's been hiding?
It would be an amazing coup if Colin Powell walked into the UN and showed them a vial of anthrax spores (carefully handled, at the very least). France and Germany would have to fold. Popular reactioon would be pretty solid, I think. Some would scream about violating Iraq's sovereign territory prior to war, but most folks would be impressed and consider the War to be instantly justified.
Some of the inspectors might complain, but we could simply point to slothy response from the UN inspection teams from prior information handed to them. Some in the UN would be pissed, but mostly because they'd been outfoxed by dumb ol' George W - again.
I really hope that this is what's happening. It would cement the war in the public eye and thrash the anti-US/anti-War crowd in one magnificent gesture.
Of course, the bombs would need to begin falling almost immediately on the tail of the announcement, but that can be arranged.
Oh, I hope, I hope, I hope....Joshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069535171036051475noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3285391.post-882365852003-01-29T19:25:00.000-05:002003-01-29T19:25:15.560-05:00<b>I was wrong about the Fench...</b>
The Fench are not like a little child. They are more like Grandpa Simpson. We're Homer and Marge, trying to get him into a home so he'll be well taken care of, but he's protesting "But I don't wanna go to the home!"
Well, Mr. Chirac, get your wrinkly old country into the home and let us take care of business. Enjoy your retirement.
JJoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069535171036051475noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3285391.post-881585382003-01-28T10:22:00.000-05:002003-01-28T10:22:06.093-05:00<b>Are the French our enemies now?</b>
Go forth and read <a href="http://www.windsofchange.net/2003_01_26_woc.html#88150876">this</a>.Joshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069535171036051475noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3285391.post-880954402003-01-27T08:49:00.000-05:002003-01-27T08:56:47.000-05:00<b>Superbowl XXXVII</b>
Superbowl XXXVII (37 henceforth) has come and gone. Woo-hoo! I can't wait for next season! The Superbowl is a love-hate thing for me. I love the excitement of the championship, and the hoopla that goes with it, but I hate seeing the season end.
High points of the game --
The last second interception for a TD. The only drawback was that the DB should have taken a slower walk into the end zone to eat those last two seconds. It would have saved Oakland the humiliation of having to take the field after that cherry in the whipped cream ending for the Bucs.
The blocked punt. Oakland did a terrific, heads up job on this play. It almost turned the game around, but TB's D was simply too strong for Oakland to overcome.
My top 3 Superbowl Ads --
1. The Referee -- The Clydesdales waiting for the review was priceless.
2. Office Linebacker -- We need one here at work sometimes.
3. Baboons & Polar Bears -- Reasonably clever, well executed.
That's a wrap!
<b>UPDATE:</b>
BTW, the Dixie Chicks singing the National Anthem was the best rendition I've ever heard. Stirring, technically precise, and not overloaded with frills. The harmonization was beautiful. This should be an object lesson for any potential Anthemizer -- the song works for itself. Keep the vocal fireworks in check and you'll get a great performance.
Joshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069535171036051475noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3285391.post-880459092003-01-26T08:47:00.000-05:002003-01-26T17:14:51.000-05:00<b>Adolescent France</b>
France has recently turned against us, turned tail, and allied itself with the freakazoid Chancellor Schroeder (does he play the piano? Is his wife named Lucy? Inquiring minds and all).
Big Freaking Surprise.
France has always been an ally of convenience. France has only placed itself with us to be against someone else, since the beginning of time.
Initially, way back in the 1750s. France was an enemy, because we were in effect their enemy. We were English, and if there is one thing the French hate, it's the English. Ever since Agincourt, when the flower of French Nobility was left to rot in the sun and the mud, France has hated England and the English. St. Joan drove the English from France, but never French sensibility has never recovered from Agincourt. How could the 'superior' French army be bested, the asked themselves? Because they suck, answered the English.
It was onlt when we rose agianst the English that the French suddenly became our friends -- because they hated the English. Once they saw we could fight the English better than the French could, the French joined the party, trying to squeeze in a little English bashing of their own, and trying to end up on the winning side for once.
Well, we won, and the French hangers-on celebrated whilst dangling from our coattails. Not that the French weren't helpful. They were. They provided arms and men. We provided the guts and generalship. I suspect we would have won without the French, although this is not by any means certain. They provided tremendous aid. But they couldn't beat the British on their own just 25 years prior, so the value of their aid is hard to measure.
After the Revolution, the French hung tough with us becasue it still behooved them to do so -- since they had a common economic, and later military enemy, once again the British. We fought the British off in 1812-1814, again, without French help, but Britain was still the big dog, and France needed us as an ally against them, although more economically rather than militarily.
Time rolled on, and the British contemplated aiding the Confederacy, while the French hung with the United States as we devolved into Civil War. The South couldn't do enough to garner the support of the British, so we never had to call on teh French. But still they remained, since we were not on the friendliest terms with the British, and that benefitted France.
Eventually, the Germans united under Kaiser Wilhelm and brought the French and English to war. We remained allied with the French, and the improved relations that had come together over the last half century united us with the British. WE all fought the Hun, and eventually won. The French were now closer to being allied with teh British, but the presence of the Germans kept the French a little scared, and the wanted to stay on our side.
The Nazis came along and brought war back to Europe. We liberated France, and eliminated the German threat. The French no longer feared an incursion from the Germans, but the Soviet Threat loomed large and kept them on our side. Forty some odd years later, and the Soviets collapsed.
The French were left confused. They had no enemy to fear, no reason to hide behind our skirts. It's taken about ten years, but now they think they can cross the street themselves. To the French, there are no enemies -- the Arabs can be dealt with, the British are part of the EU, the Germans are now their allies, and the world is safe as far as they are concenred. Sure, there are some terrorists, but the ones in France are isolated and, well, they only pick on the Jews, so like the bully picking on the hairy geek instead of them, they really aren't a threat to <i>France</i>.
France is entering a political adolescence. They want to strike out on their own as a world power again, but are impotent to do so. No military to speak of, an ignored diplomatic corps, and the contempt of the greatest power on earth. Like an adolescent, they do the only thing they can do -- scream bloody murder and cry in their room at night.
"But Mom! I don't want to go to war!"
"But Dad! I don't want to eat your broccoli!"
"Mom! Germany's picking on me!
And after we drag them along for the ride to Iraq, and we win, and they discover that they enjoyed it... well, like a child, they'll talk about how tough they were to ride the big Mighty Mouse Roller Coaster, how brave they were on the Tilt-a-Whirl, and how mommy and daddy let them go on the big slide all by themselves.
They'll think they've done something special, when all they've done is what mommy and daddy wanted them to do.Joshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069535171036051475noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3285391.post-879613002003-01-24T11:08:00.000-05:002003-01-24T11:08:38.906-05:00Mr. Den Beste is at his <a href="http://www.denbeste.nu/cd_log_entries/2003/01/RememberingWWII.shtml">Beste</a>.Joshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069535171036051475noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3285391.post-879583272003-01-24T10:05:00.000-05:002003-01-24T10:19:27.000-05:00<b>Roe v. Wade</b>
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 <b>know</b> it's the right solution, because it makes sense, and leaves pretty much every one unhappy.
The salient question with regards to abortion is <i>"When does a zygote/embryo/fetus constitute a living being?"</i>
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.Joshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069535171036051475noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3285391.post-879574672003-01-24T09:46:00.000-05:002003-01-24T09:46:16.466-05:00Never mind; it seems to be corrected now...
Some one email me if you read this stuff. I need a little stroking :-)Joshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069535171036051475noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3285391.post-879574282003-01-24T09:45:00.000-05:002003-01-24T09:45:20.106-05:00Yeah, 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....Joshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069535171036051475noreply@blogger.com