Bobland

The Minefield

2025-09-15T07:56:00-04:00

The minefield doesn’t mean to hurt anyone. If you comment on the craters that mark its surface or the maimed and dead, it can quickly point out that it is not to blame. Every explosion was caused by someone else, who walked where they shouldn’t have, stepped on something they shouldn’t have, triggered something they shouldn’t have. The minefield is innocent. If you avoid the minefield, it will be indignant. If you warn others away from it, it will be livid. How dare you judge it for something it has no control over? So bring your friends and family, and frolic across its surface. Tread lightly and never make a misstep and everything will be fine. And if it isn’t, just remember. The minefield didn’t mean to hurt anyone.

The Magi

2024-12-21T07:53:00-05:00

Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judaea in the days of Herod the king, behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem, saying, "Where is he that is born King of the Jews?, for we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him."

When Herod the king had heard these things, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him. And when he had gathered all the chief priests and scribes of the people together, he demanded of them where Christ should be born. And they said unto him, "In Bethlehem of Judaea: for thus it is written by the prophet, 'And thou Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, art not the least among the princes of Judah: for out of thee shall come a Governor, that shall rule my people Israel.'"

Then Herod, when he had privily called the wise men, enquired of them diligently what time the star appeared. And he sent them to Bethlehem, and said, "Go and search diligently for the young child; and when ye have found him, bring me word again, that I may come and worship him also." When they had heard the king, they departed.

And Balthazar looked up into the night sky and said unto his fellow Magi, "Chaps, I do believe that star is now fully a quarter the size of the moon." And they did look up with him and saw that it was so, and the land around them was bathed as in daylight by its shining. "Perhaps it will stop over the very house where the King of the Jews resides."

And Caspar did respond, "That would be smashing. Can you imagine how awkward it would be, going door to door to every house in the town asking if they happen to have the King of the Jews in there?"

And the star did grow in brilliance as they walked, for it was a rogue star, flung across the Milky Way galaxy at nearly a third of the speed of light, and was already within the orbit of Jupiter, perturbing the outer planets. In a few short minutes it burst through the asteroid belt, consuming millions of tons of rock without slowing.

And lo, when the star was within three lunar distances of the earth, a great prominence did appear from its photosphere. And the prominence went ahead of the star, touching a house in Bethlehem, incinerating it and everything for miles in every direction.

But by then, everything upon the land was already doomed, for the intense solar winds had stripped away the Earth's atmosphere, bathing everything on the surface in hard radiation and impossible heat. But, before he breathed his last, Malchior spoke one final time to his brother. "My good fellows, perhaps we should have studied astronomy rather than astrology."

The Horsey Cup

2023-12-27T12:17:00-05:00

My mother was a proponent of natural remedies. What this meant in practice was that I spent a significant portion of my childhood inside cramped stores that smelled vaguely earthy and had bottles of every imaginable herb in capsule or syrup form. The great thing about herbal remedies is that you should consume lots of them every day, no matter the situation. I remember when my mother found out about the wonders of bee pollen, and for months we ate tiny spoonfuls of small orangish-yellow spheres.

Of course, if herbs were good when you were healthy, they were even more important when you were sick. My mother had a simple set of responses to any illness that entered the house. For a runny nose or other minor ailment, Vitamin C was the solution. For more advanced illnesses, it was time to break out the echinacea, but if that didn't work, there was still one herb of last resort: blue vervain. Of course, I don't know if I ever actually saw the label, so it sounded like "bluverbane" to younger me.

It came as a syrup, and by my mother's scale there could be nothing more effective. If you've never had the experience, imagine the most bitter thing you've ever put in your mouth, that burns slightly and leaves a bittersweet aftertaste that's impossible to scrape off your tongue. I tried my best to be an obedient son, but even I had a hard time obeying when asked to drink a tablespoon, no matter how much she insisted it was just what my body needed to heal.

My mother, being the cunning innovator that she was, hit upon a solution. She would dissolve the blue vervain in a mug of hot tea. It was a brilliant answer, with only a few small problems. First, none of her sons liked hot tea. Secondly, the blue vervain easily overpowered whatever weak flavor the tea had. Still, I remember many winter days sitting staring at a mug of suspicious smelling hot tea.

One of those days, my grandmother had come to visit, and hit upon a new strategy. She coaxed me to take a sip of the blue vervain tea, until finally I raised it to my mouth and took the tiniest sip. "Wow, did you see that?" she exclaimed.

I hadn't seen anything.

At this point, I need to make a small diversion, the reason for which will soon become apparent. Aside from a very impressive collection of herbal supplements, my mother was also the proud owner of a diverse set of ceramic mugs. There were plain ones, ones with patterns, ones with pictures, in various sizes. The one I was using was a white mug with a picture of a red and orange sunset on the side. In front of that stormy sunset proudly stood a lone brown stallion with a black tail and mane.

"What!?" I asked my grandmother, wondering what she had seen.

"That horse flicked its tail," she informed me.

That seemed unusual to me, but there are many unusual things in this world. I watched the horse closely, but it had apparently chosen to stop after that brief movement.

My grandmother suggested an experiment: "Why don't you take another sip of your tea, and watch the horse closely?"

I tried this, but it turns out that it's impossible to drink a nearly full mug of hot tea while keeping a close eye on the outside of it, particularly since I was still young enough to hold it with both hands instead of by the handle.

"Wow, that horse kicked his leg!" my grandmother exclaimed.

From that time forward, blue vervain was always served in the "Horsey" cup. With each sip, the poor patient strained vainly to watch the horse and someone else stood by to declare that it had, in fact, moved.

Sight Unseen

2023-04-13T17:28:00-04:00

Imagine that you want to buy a house. Given the real estate market, it might be hard to imagine, but try anyhow and let's see what happens.

One day, you're called up by your perky real estate agent. "Have I got the house for you!" she exclaims as soon as you pick up the phone. "It's absolutely perfect. You're just going to love it. When can you come down and sign the contract?"

You're glad to hear something has come available. You've been searching for months. "I'd love to take a look at it," you tell her. "I have tomorrow afternoon open, if you can give me a tour then."

She seems a bit surprised at your suggestion. "I can't give you a tour of the house yet, but trust me, you're going to love it."

"Okay," you say, trying to be reasonable. "If you give me the address, I'll drive by it and take a look at the exterior and the neighborhood."

"That's not how this works," she says sternly. "But I can send you written descriptions of it, and even some paintings people have done. Trust me, it's the most amazing house you can imagine. When you see this, you're going to realize how important it is to take this offer while it's available."

"Alright," you say. "Send that over. Can you at least tell me the general area it's in?"

"It's right near your work, your gym, the stadium, and your brother's house."

"How can that be?" you ask. "My brother's house is nearly two hours from the stadium."

"I'll bring the packet over tomorrow," she responds brightly. "You'll see. It's amazing."

As promised, she arrives, beaming, at your door the following afternoon. She shoves a massive folder, stuffed to bursting with papers, into your arms. "Take a look at that!" she announces.

You start flipping through the pages. There are a lot of descriptions. One picture shows a big farmhouse, sitting in the midst of a lush green field. An account describes the luxurious swimming pool in the backyard. Another mentions having daily tea in the rose garden, and another how it's within easy walking distance of a favorite club. You can't help but notice that it's hard to make all of these accounts fit together cleanly, but the house sounds amazing.

Your agent watches you intently, and asks "So what did you think?" as soon as you flip past the final sheet of paper.

"It sounds nice, I guess," you respond. "Are you sure these are all talking about the same house?"

"Absolutely," she replies. "I told you it was perfect. I brought along the contract, since I knew you'd want to lock up this offer once you saw everything." She hands you another stack of papers.

You read through it. There's a lot of unfamiliar language, but you try your best to understand. "I see here the mortgage payment would be one-thousand dollars a month," you tell her, "but what's the total price? I don't see anything about how long the mortgage term is."

"That hasn't been decided yet, but they'll let you know when you've paid enough."

You're a bit stunned at this revelation, but the house does sound interesting. "Okay, how soon can I move in? I know you said they weren't ready to give tours yet."

"You can move in once your mortgage is paid off."

"That's not how mortgages work," you object. "I don't even know when my mortgage will be paid off anyhow!"

"I can see you're having some doubts," she responds calmly. "It happens to a lot of people. It's nothing to be ashamed of. I'll tell you what. In a few days I'm having a meeting with my many satisfied customers. Why don't you come along and see for yourself?"

And so, you soon find yourself in a medium-sized conference room with many other customers of your agent. She introduces you to them and tells them about the concerns you've raised.

An older gentleman, in a nice suit, immediately speaks up. "I had the same kind of doubts when I first heard about it. That's only natural. It just sounds too good to be true, you know. But it really is true. The house I bought is amazing. It's more than worth the price."

"So you're satisfied living in the house you bought?" you ask.

"Oh, I haven't moved in yet. I'm still making my payments."

"Have you been in it at all? Have you seen it in person?"

"Of course not, but look at it," he says, pointing to a beautiful oil painting of a marble mansion at the end of a long brick driveway. "This is my dream home."

"Has anyone actually moved into their house?" you ask your agent.

"Oh yes," she answers. "Many, many people have. Isn't that right, Karen?" she says, pointing to a middle-aged lady wearing a pink sweater.

Karen perks up immediately. "My mother moved into her house a few months ago," she announces brightly. "She's very happy there."

"Have you been to her house?" you ask Karen.

"Oh, no," Karen says, shocked at the question. "I don't know where it is. Only she does."

"Can we call her?" you ask.

"I'm afraid not," Karen replies. "I haven't heard from her since she paid off her mortgage and left for her new house."

"Then how do you know she's happy with it?" you ask.

"I just know it. It's like a special feeling. I think about how excited she used to get talking about it. She'd been making payments for nearly seventy years, so I'm sure she's happy to finally be in her house."

Turning to your agent again, you ask, "Is there anyone who has actually moved into their house that I can talk to?"

"No, dear," she responds sweetly. "They're all so happy in their new homes. Though if you want to read some firsthand accounts, I have these." She reaches into a drawer and withdraws some pages that are clearly ancient. They're yellowed and cracked, but they do clearly contain firsthand accounts of people talking about visiting their house for an extended period and then coming back to tell everyone about it.

"So, if that's answered all of your questions, are you ready to get started?" she asks kindly. She hands you the contract and a pen. "Just sign your full name right where you see the Xs," she tells you.

Do you sign?

Bayes's Theorem

2023-02-20T08:56:00-05:00

I was surprised that a quick web search for Bayes's Theorem didn't turn up a simple example with an explanation. I could find interesting examples and stories that didn't actually describe how you would apply Bayes's Theorem, and complex math for scenarios that most people never encounter, but there didn't seem to be anything in the middle.

How is it that you can go from trusting a coin toss implicitly to accusing your friend of using a two-headed coin without even examining it? How does your email program know if a message it's never seen before is spam or not? Both of these can be achieved with Bayesian reasoning. Let's walk through the coin toss example. Coin tosses are considered a fair way to pick between two options. In a football game, it's used to decide which team gets to pick their side of the stadium or who receives the kickoff. In other cases, it can be used to decide who gets the last piece of cake or rides shotgun. It's a simple, unbiased process for making decisions between two options where there isn't a good reason to prefer one over the other.

Suppose that you and a friend are making such a decision, and she suggests you settle it with a coin toss. If it's heads, you'll both do what she wants to do. If it's tails, you'll both do what you want to do. You agree. The coin comes up heads and you've got your decision. No arguing or hurt feelings. However, if she keeps getting heads over and over, at some point you're going to think you're being tricked. How did you arrive at that conclusion? Perhaps it's just sheer intuition, and yet there's a lot of math that your intuition is doing (sometimes sloppily) behind the scenes.

Two-headed coins are rare, and (as the name suggests) they can only ever result in heads. I'm not sure how rare, but we can pick a number that sounds about right. I'd say that 99.9% of the time, the coin used in a coin toss is fair. (If you're in a place where people are more frequently using two-headed coins, you can adjust this number accordingly.)

Bayes's Theorem basically says that the probability that a hypothesis is accurate depends on its likelihood (in this case, how likely people are to use fair coins) and the prior and marginal probabilities (how well each hypothesis fits the data). On the first coin toss, when we get a heads, the probability that the coin toss is fair is 99.8%. Obviously, you'd get a heads 50% of the time, so getting one on the first toss isn't that far out of the realm of possibility.

If the second toss turns out to be a heads a well, the probability still remains at 99.6%. However, by the time you've got ten heads in a row, the probability that your coin toss is fair has dropped to less than half and twelve heads in a row is less than 20%. This is based on two-headed coins being rare. If your friend was just telling you the week before about how she found a website that sells trick coins, you might have started with a probability of only two-thirds that it's fair, in which case even the first heads drops your confidence in a fair coin to less than half. Your determination of likelihood can have a big impact on the final probability.

You might be thinking at this point, "but there are more than just 'fair' and 'two-headed' coins in the world!" Of course you're correct. To be rigorous, we should compute the probability of every possible kind of trick coin. This is one of the weaknesses of Bayesian reasoning, though an entirely reasonable one. It can only pick between known hypotheses, not create them for you. If you've never heard of the type of trick coin your friend has, she can continue to trick you with impunity and you'll be none the wiser.

It's also worth keeping in mind that the results are probabilities. Just because the results lean towards one hypothesis, that doesn't mean it's correct, just that it's the most reasonable. Probability does allow for your friend getting ten heads on ten consecutive tosses of a fair coin. It's just uncommon. More evidence can also dramatically shift your understanding. For example, if your friend tosses the coin and it comes up tails even once, the two-headed coin hypothesis's probability drops to zero. However, there are trick coins that just make heads much more likely, but to detect that you'll need a new calculation.

Bayesian reasoning allows us to determine numerical values to our hunches. It allows you to break down your intuition about a hypothesis into smaller pieces that you can examine independently. How confident are you in the likelihood or prior probability you chose? Would someone else agree? Putting those together into a formula allows you to see if your intuition is reasonable. For example, if your friend gets six heads in a row, is she definitely using a two-headed coin? If you think the prior likelihood of a fair coin is 99.9%, you'll discover the probability that she has a fair coin is still 94%, even after six heads. It's best to wait for more data before you accuse your friend of cheating.

If you're interested in the math, the Wikipedia article is a good place to start. The key idea behind Bayes's Theorem is that the reasonableness of a hypothesis does not rest on the hypothesis itself, but on how it compares to the reasonableness of all competing hypotheses. The results can be surprising, but the logic is really simple. The most reasonable hypothesis is the one that has the highest combination of commonness and explanatory power.

Flare Gun

2022-12-22T09:19:00-05:00

I was a teenager, attending one of the annual youth conventions that my denomination held. The speaker for that evening told us a story:

A truck driver is driving along the highway at night, on his way to deliver his next load, when suddenly he sees a light in the distance. A second later, a blinding flare smashes into his windshield. The driver slams the brakes and jumps out of the cab to find the person responsible. He is furious. He runs to the guy with the flare gun and starts yelling at him. "What are you doing? I ought to beat you to a pulp." The guy responds that the bridge ahead has collapsed and the flare gun was his only way to keep the truck driver from driving into the ravine.

"This is you," the speaker informed me and my friends. "The bridge is out, and the people around you are barreling down the road of life, headed for a crash. What will you do to protect them from that fate? Is any action too extreme to save their souls from destruction?"

I took the message to heart. I carried my Bible to school every day. I highlighted the verses of the path of salvation in it, and marked each passage with the page number of the next step. I practiced walking through those steps in case I had the opportunity to share the gospel with my peers. I took the occasional barb from my classmates, but it was worth it. Like the truck driver, they didn't yet understand that I was saving them.

It took me two decades to realize this was a false analogy. In actuality I had been walking along the road when someone burst from the woods and handed me a flare gun. "The bridge is out ahead!" he shouted at me. "You have to prevent people from passing this point. Use this flare gun to stop them."

I dutifully began firing at oncoming traffic. Most of the vehicles sped by. A few slowed down to see what was going on, but they eventually kept going. I was a bit too excited to hear what they were saying, but I assumed it was something like "I really want to drive off a cliff and die."

Several hours into the night, when the traffic had slowed down, I began to notice certain facts that had escaped me at first. I hadn't seen a single emergency vehicle headed for the scene of the bridge collapse. Surely someone must have reported it by now. Even more troubling, I would occasionally see cars coming from the other direction. Unable to contain my curiosity, I began walking down the road. Somewhere on my trek I dropped the flare gun along the side of the road. I've been walking for an hour now and haven't seen any sign of a bridge.

To those of you who took a flare to the windshield, I'm very sorry. I was just doing what I was told I was supposed to do. To the guy who handed me a flare gun, please stop. To those of you still holding flare guns, I'm sorry it makes you feel bad that I dropped mine. Please don't shoot me with your flare gun. We can just talk. To all of you heading down the road, good luck. So far it looks just fine.

Elevating Others

2022-12-17T15:44:00-05:00

[If you're not familiar with this year's FIRST Robotics Competition game, here's a short video introduction. It may be hard to understand the following without that knowledge.]

When I first started mentoring on the Krypton Cougars, they were, to be blunt, not very good. They were only in their second year and had limited resources. Through the years that I spent mentoring the team, I watched them slowly become an average team. Occasionally winning or doing well, occasionally doing quite the opposite, a team with growing name recognition, but at best only a competent support robot.

After more than a decade, though, with an impossible number of hours in the books, the Krypton Cougars have been to the world championship twice, most recently finishing on Einstein, the finals of the finals. It's been an exciting journey, even though I've only been able to watch the past few years from the sidelines.

Due to COVID, competitions had been closed to spectators and I haven't been able to watch them in person since 2019, so it was extremely exciting to finally attend Ramp Riot, one of their off-season events, this fall. The team did very well during qualifications, losing only one match and finishing second overall. As alliance captains they chose Roboforce, a competent shooter and with minimal climbing ability, as their first pick. Their second pick was Dawgma, chosen to serve as a defense robot and block scoring by the opposing alliance.

FIRST is trying out a new double-elimination format for their playoff matches this off-season. Before their first match could even start, Dawgma was working on their robot on the field, attempting to get it to connect to their control system. They did not succeed. Their robot never moved the entire match, allowing the opposing alliance to play double-team defense, and just like that the Krypton Cougars found themselves in the losers bracket, with a score of 81 to 94.

Dawgma was unable to repair their robot before the next match, so they were replaced by the highest remaining team, the PSIcotics, a robot that I had first taken note of early in the competition when parts of it started falling off during their match, but at least they could move. Our alliance won easily, staying alive for one more match.

The next elimination match was against the first-place alliance. It was a close match, particularly since all three of the robots on the opposing alliance were capable of climbing, while the only reliable climber on our alliance was the Krypton Cougars, but our alliance managed to stay alive 109 to 106. The following match the Krypton Cougars won handily, but PSIcotics began to have mechanical issues and spent the final minute of the match barely able to move.

Fortunately, by then Dawgma had gotten their issues sorted out, so they returned to our alliance for the final match of the losers bracket. The match started unexpectedly. Literally. Apparently someone accidentally triggered the match too soon. Fortunately, no humans were on the field at the time. The match was stopped and the robots were set up again. The actual match started extremely close, and our second shooter, Roboforce, died near the sideline almost immediately after the autonomous period. With Dawgma playing defense, the Krypton Cougars were the entire offense. The opposing alliance devoted a robot to blocking them the entire match. Trying to score as many points as possible, the Krypton Cougars ran out of time and didn't complete their climb. Fortunately, Dawgma was able to get on the bars, resulting in a final score of 80 to 79. Our alliance was going to the finals.

Now, unlike most double-elimination tournaments, there is a reset built into grand finals, making them best of three. We were now on even footing. During the timeout before the match, Roboforce was able to repair their machine, and the first match of the finals was a high scoring affair, as both teams focused on shooting cargo into the goal. With three functional climbing robots, our alliance was able to pull off the victory with a score of 115 to 105.

However, after the match, the programming mentor said "We're dragging a swerve module." Sure enough, in the pits they discovered that one of their wheels was broken. Without adequate time to replace it, the Krypton Cougars opted to play on three wheels. The next match began rockily, as the autonomous program was unable to compensate for the broken wheel. As soon as the autonomous period ended, Dawgma shot across the field to play defense, slammed head-on into an opposing robot, and spent the rest of the match disabled. With the Krypton Cougars robot noticeably hesitant on the field, the lead cycled back and forth between the alliances. With only three wheels, pushing around defenders was no longer an option. Then, with twenty seconds remaining in the match, disaster struck. A defending robot pushed the Krypton Cougars sideways against the opposing alliance wall and our robot was unable to get free. It spent the rest of the match vibrating furiously, unable to climb for the end game. Just like that, the grand finals were tied.

Dawgma spent the timeout on the field working furiously on their disabled robot, and were able to get it working again in time for the tie-breaker match. The Krypton Cougars were still only using three wheels, but managed to come out of the autonomous period with a two-point lead. Unfortunately, seconds into the match, Dawgma drove into the center goal, disabling their robot for good. Defense continued to be stiff, but Roboforce acquitted themselves admirably, cycling points into the goal regularly and keeping opposing robots off the Krypton Cougars. Playing defense took its toll, however, and with a minute remaining their robot stopped working.

This would be the part, in past years, where some mentor explained that it was just bad luck. Obviously, the Krypton Cougars did the best they could, but you can't reasonably expect to win a three-on-one match against the alliance that ran the winners bracket without a loss, even if the robot was working perfectly, which it isn't.

This is not previous years. The Krypton Cougars kept scoring until the last moment, and began their climb with only seconds remaining. The Krypton Cougars wobbled on the bars, but climbed quickly. As the timer hit zero, the Krypton Cougars transitioned to the final bar while the end-of-match buzzer sounded. The Krypton Cougars won Ramp Riot, with a final match score of 91 to 84.

Thanks to the hard work that students and mentors put in year after year, three other teams went home with trophies and a great story to share. Finally, we are not just a team that can win. We are a team that can elevate others.

Disqus

2022-12-06T11:54:00-05:00

It's not quite Hyperwidgets, but I've added comments to the site via Disqus. So, if you feel one of these articles would not be complete without your feedback, feel free to click on the article title. I think it's set up to automatically show new comments, and, failing that, hopefully it will at least tell me when a comment is being held.

Is A Tomato A Fruit?

2022-12-03T17:33:00-05:00

One of the popular gotcha questions in politics at the moment is "What is a woman?". It only has four words, and most of us can identify a woman with only a quick glance. It's used as the primary example of how the "leftists" are ignoring reality, letting their "woke" ideas cloud an obviously simple question. Yet any attempt to answer it turns out to be tautological ("A woman is someone who society accepts as a woman"), overly simplistic ("A woman is someone who can have children"), or tediously long ("Someone with two X chromosomes, plus those with this syndrome but excluding those with this disorder unless...")

This complexity is not limited to matters of gender. Almost everything we deal with on a daily basis suffers the same complications. A common example is the question "Is cereal a soup?" If we try to define the characteristics that make something a soup, we'll likely come to the conclusion that cereal fits the definition, even though we understand intuitively that they're very different things. Or we may overcorrect to suit our intuition and create ad-hoc restrictions that rule out things we know are soups.

The problem, if we want to see it that way, is that our minds are neural networks. We didn't learn what a chair was by being given a rigorous definition. Rather, we were exposed to thousands of examples of things called "chairs" until our brains were trained to recognize them on sight. Any attempt to clearly define a chair with a rigorous definition is post-hoc, and is likely to fall apart at the boundary between "chair" and "not chair".

This is where, in my opinion, a lot of philosophy goes wrong. It wants to break reality down into clearly delineated categories, and reality simply can't be mapped that way. Our artificial buckets serve many useful purposes. They allow us to deal with a complicated reality in a way that doesn't overwhelm us, but that convenience comes with a cost.

Our concepts are situational. What we consider a fruit is very different depending on if we're making a fruit salad or labeling the parts of a plant for botany. It's not enough to ask what something is. We also need to know why we want to know what something is.

In normal conversation we don't trouble ourselves with such rigor. If someone asks us to bring another chair for the dining room table we don't ask for clarification or drag over the nearest recliner. We intuitively use the purpose to arrive at the expected definition.

So, if someone decides to ambush you with "What is a woman," ask them what they hope to achieve using that definition.

Thanksgiving

2022-11-24T08:42:00-05:00

It's Thanksgiving yet again, an increasingly controversial holiday. Like so many have before me, I'm going to ignore all that and just be thankful.

I'm thankful to you for visiting this site and reading my words, even if it's not on Thanksgiving.

I'm thankful to the countless mathematicians, physicists, engineers, and programmers who have given us the internet as we have it today. Without all of their often thankless work, so much of what I do to provide for my family would be impossible, or at least far less pleasant.

I'm thankful to all the doctors and nurses who, despite increasingly unhinged conspiracy theories about their motivations, have kept on doing what they can to keep their patients safe.

I'm thankful to the teachers and librarians who carry on educating everyone who wants to learn, even if that's being made increasingly difficult by those who don't understand education.

I'm thankful to all of the election officials who continue to make sure that democratic elections can be carried out despite increasing distrust and polarization. I'm even thankful to all of the candidates that made election denial a part of their campaign and yet have conceded when it's become clear they've lost.

I'm thankful to the remaining reporters and media outlets who care more about distributing accurate information than pushing an agenda, and are willing to publish true information regardless of who it will benefit.

I'm thankful to the artists, poets, authors, musicians, songwriters, actors, and filmmakers who invest their time and talents into crafting beautiful pieces of art for others to enjoy.

I'm thankful to all the firefighters, EMTs, and social workers who have dedicated their lives to salvaging terrible situations.

I'm thankful to scientists in so many different fields who continue to push forward our understanding of the universe around us, and open the doors to ever greater discoveries. I'm especially thankful to those scientists who use their expertise to help humanity have a reason to be optimistic about the future.

I'm thankful to every person who has the opportunity to act selfishly and instead acts in the interest of others. No matter how small, it's these acts of love and cooperation that give me hope that there are bright days ahead.

Thank you.

Why Change the Site?

2022-11-18T13:44:00-05:00

Nearly a year ago I got locked out of my WordPress site due to a malfunctioning plugin. I hadn't been especially prolific for years before that happened, so I let it go. I certainly could have updated the plugin and carried on, but having an active WordPress blog inside my household network was beginning to feel like a dangerous security vulnerability, so I left it alone, figuring if I couldn't log in, at least no one else could either.

A random bot attempted to log into my blog every day, slowly shifting later and later. Every morning I got the crash notification from WordPress, letting me know that my site was still alive, if broken. (Let's ignore when the database ran out of space and everything was down for a month.)

Eventually, though, I began to wonder what it might take to move my website outside my home network to somewhere where a security breach would be less devastating. While WordPress certainly has much to recommend it, it is by no means a lightweight tool, and for what I use this blog for (blatant self-promotion) it seemed unnecessary. I'd heard about static site generators for a while. In fact, the very first Bobland, nearly two decades ago, was built using a static-site generator I wrote myself in C++. I had heard good things about Hugo and decided I'd give that a try. I even went so far as investigating hosting, but somehow I ended up choosing a service that didn't allow customers from the United State. So I gave up.

Several weeks ago I saw something (I don't remember what) that inspired me to check out hosting again. I selected a hosting package signed up for an account, and found out that I didn't have my credit card information saved on my workstation. No problem. My wallet was just down the hall. It only took me a few weeks to get it.

It had been a while since I'd looked at Hugo, and I was curious if it was still the recommended engine. I compared it to Jekyll, and found that the reviews were mixed, so I instead searched for the top static site generators of 2022. On the list I found Pelican, a static site generator written in Python that supported theming with Jinja2. It also supported directly importing from a WordPress export. Those all sounded good to me, so I altered my plan and installed Pelican instead of Hugo. I also set up my server with Nginx, and got my SSL certificate.

My initial import of the old site had some issues, but since the "database" is just files in a directory, I was able to move them around and even clean up the text using Perl. Then it was a simple matter of generating the HTML and copying it to my server, which is nicely handled by a simple command. And now we have the site as it exists today (see the date at the top of the article). As a static site, I don't have comments right now. I guess that's what hyperwidgets are for.

Pelican

2022-11-17T16:44:00-05:00

Does this site look different? Yes. That's because I've just recently made the move to Pelican. We'll see how that goes.

Animal Cruelty

2021-04-06T09:19:00-04:00

Every morning, when I pull my shaving cream from the medicine cabinet, there is a picture of a small bunny on the side of the can. Under the picture are the words "Cruelty free". That is my daily reminder that somewhere out there, a shaving cream company is shaving bunnies.

Chesterton's Fence

2021-04-02T07:20:00-04:00

There is a guiding principle of second-order thinking explained by G. K. Chesterton in his book The Thing.

There exists in such a case a certain institution or law; let us say, for the sake of simplicity, a fence or gate erected across a road. The more modern type of reformer goes gaily up to it and says, “I don’t see the use of this; let us clear it away.” To which the more intelligent type of reformer will do well to answer: “If you don’t see the use of it, I certainly won’t let you clear it away. Go away and think. Then, when you can come back and tell me that you do see the use of it, I may allow you to destroy it.”

While Chesterton was thinking of social structures, this is a good principle in many areas, including computer software. Many of us in the early days of our programming careers (because of course, we've all learned our lesson and never fall for this anymore) come across a line of clearly useless code. Its removal would improve readability and have no negative impact, and so it is discarded. Only later did we discover that that piece of code was instrumental in preventing some error we hadn't even realized was possible.

After a few such encounters, a programmer tends to become superstitious about such sections of code. If you don't have the time to understand it deeply (and in the modern business world, who does?), you just leave it alone and hope for the best. To return to the fence analogy, we could remove the fence, but that would mean taking responsibility for understanding it. Maybe it really could be removed. Maybe a speed bump or warning sign would be more appropriate, but it's hard to say. Instead, the enterprising programmer leaves the fence in place, but jams a stick in the hinges to hold the gate open.

The drivers are delighted that they can now barrel down the street without having to stop and open the fence, until that fateful day when the stick breaks or wiggles loose and the fence slams shut in front of a car traveling at fifty miles per hour.

The next programmer comes along to investigate the wreck and he isn't looking at the fence anymore. Now, he wants to understand the stick. After considering it a while, he decides he needs a stronger stick, or one that's differently shaped. Or perhaps he just needs to use some glue to hold the stick in place better. When that fails, more modifications are made to the stick, and eventually modifications begin being made to those modifications.

Finally, someone gets sick of this mess with the pile of twenty sticks held together with twine, mud, and glue, and reroutes the traffic along a mud path alongside the road. Of course, this path is more treacherous and we need a way to make traffic stop and consider the road ahead of them carefully. So a fence is added.

Christmas Songs

2020-12-10T13:52:00-05:00

Hi everyone! I know, you think I forgot about you, my loyal audience, but I've been super busy taking care of the parents. You wouldn't believe how much trouble they can get into, but I can't go into that right now, because I have something really important to tell you.

Did you know they play Christmas music on the radio? I thought they might, and so I've been looking for it since March, but didn't have much luck tracking it down. Then, on November 1st, I finally found it. A station playing Christmas music. It was great. I played it all day long. And the next day. And they just kept playing Christmas songs. All day long, every day.

And guess what?!? Then I found another station that plays Christmas music all day long. So now when I get tired of one station I can just switch to the other. It is so wonderful that I turn it up as loud as I can so I can hear it anywhere in the house. I love Christmas!

The Great Race

2020-07-13T14:51:00-04:00

Recently I had the chance to spend some time with my brother and his family at a nice house with a creek running nearby. Soon the kids and adults were splashing around in the water. Someone, possibly my brother, suggested to the kids that they have a boat race. They would pick a boat and float it down the stream, and see which one reached the finish line first. I stood downstream to catch the boats before they drifted away to the sea.

Having no actual boats, it was up to each child to select their water craft. Miranda selected a long grass-like blade from a plant, which she was quite confident would be the fastest boat. Her oldest cousin, Eva, selected a leaf. After some consideration, she connected it to another leaf with a stick. Upon further review, she removed the stick and returned to her single-leaf design. Eva's younger sister, Mya, selected a charred piece of wood from the fire pit. Jay, the youngest and only boy, selected a rock.

His dad, a teacher, laughed, and pointed out to Jay that his rock would not float. Jay pondered this for a moment before agreeing that it would be better to switch boats. He chose a different rock.

The charred wood won.

Supplication and Demand

2020-06-22T17:27:00-04:00

"What do you reckon is the bandwidth of the Almighty?" Jonesy asked as he hung his lanky frame through my office doorway. I had been up all night going over the latest report from accounting, but he looked as though he'd had even less sleep. Impressively dark circles hung around eyes that were shining like I'd never seen.

"What?" I asked, startled by the sudden interruption.

"The Almighty? You think we could..." He trailed off. "It'll be easier if I just show ya," he said. "I have some charts pulled up in the conference room. This is gonna be huge, Jimbo!"

"It had better be," I said, tossing a stack of papers onto my desk. "The most recent numbers don't paint a pretty picture." I grudgingly hoisted myself from my chair and followed him down the hallway to our small windowless conference room. Projected on the white wall I saw the same numbers I'd poured over the night before: a flat, faltering line meandering lazily across the months.

"These are our numbers for the past thirty-six months," Jonesy began. I guess he could tell by my expression that I was already painfully aware of that fact, because he quickly clicked the mouse and a second line appeared, slowly but steadily trending upwards. "These are the number for Cullinghams over the same period."

"Where did you get those?" I asked

"Well, ya see, I met this little chap at Jacob's middle school play back in May. Turns out his mother is old man Cullingham's secretary. So I gave him a USB drive and twenty buck and told him to copy all the files on his mommy's computer."

"Do you have any idea how illegal that is?"

"Do you want to know what I found out, or not?"

I had to admit I was curious.

"So, most if it was worthless, but I found some internal quarterly reports that allowed me to graph their growth for the past three years. Basically, it coincides with what we expected."

"So you risked getting us sued and shut down to find absolutely nothing?"

"I ain't finished yet. You know I don't give up that easily," he said. "So, I emailed down to their accounting department and asked for the complete database of transactions, to see if there was anything interesting there."

"And they just said, 'Sure, here you go?'"

"Well, I used his secretary's email address."

"How'd you do that?"

"You remember the USB drive I gave to her..."

"You know what, on second thought, I'd like to keep some plausible deniability. What did you find?"

Jonesy clicked the mouse and a third line appeared on the screen, roughly tracking the previous line, but with noticeable spikes and jumps.

"Now a lot of this here is just noise. Payroll, rent, contracts they've had for years. So I went through and scrubbed out any recurring events, to get a feel for the real picture." A new line appeared, offset a bit from the others, but with some noticeable small bumps. "You can see there's a bit of a pattern. Let me zoom in here a bit, so you can see it better"

Sure enough, a heartbeat pattern appeared. "Now I went through and checked, and every Friday a new revenue bump starts. Fridays! I thought that can't be right, but I went over it again and the signal is there, regular and repeating. So regular, in fact, that I was able to map the standard deviation from a rolling window." Yet another line appeared, this time closely hugging the zero line, with only an occasional jump or dip.

"So, I pulled up old man Cullingham's calendar to see what he's being doing. Turns out, every Friday at 10 AM sharp, the old boy sets aside ninety minutes to go down to St. Paul's church and spend some one-on-one time with the Good Lord Himself."

"You're telling me you think God is helping Cullingham?"

"You're right to be skeptical, Jimbo. I didn't think that made no sense neither. I reckoned it was some sort of mental boost he got. You know, getting alone with his thoughts for a bit, calming his soul, that whole thing."

"So, I figure we just need to think differently, so back at the beginning of September I arranged for one of Cullingham's suppliers to have an unanticipated outage. Nothing a little self-confidence can do about that, right?"

He looked like he expected me to answer, but I was still trying to figure out if I wanted to how he'd arranged a factory outage.

"Turns out, the very day that old man Cullingham finds out that his supplies aren't coming in - a Friday, I should add - I get a call from the Rothhaven Group, saying they've decided to take their business to Cullinghams. Less than a week later, old Cullingham's got more business and his supply chain's back up and running."

"Don't tell me you're planning to take up praying, Jonesy?" I asked.

"Nah, me and the Big Man ain't really on the best of terms. Won't even answer my calls. You still going to church?"

"Yeah, I get there from time to time, if there isn't an early football game."

"That won't get you nothing. Old man Cullingham, he goes every Sunday, and gives quite a lot of money, I've heard. Got a whole row of windows named after him down at St. Paul's. We haven't got a hope of out-praying him, but there is another way."

"I'm listening."

"You see this dip here in early August? I checked it against Cullingham's calendar. Turns out, he had a group of foreign investors visiting and they invited him to play golf with him Friday morning. Seems the Almighty didn't like that too much, so I figured if we could just get Culligham to skip this prayer stuff, we should be able to beat him, easy."

"I removed it from his calendar, but an old geezer like that don't use a computerized calendar anyhow. That's just for his secretary. I tried to arrange for some meetings, but was told that he wasn't available at that time. Seems he's wised up about that. So I set his house on fire..."

"You what!"

"Relax Jimbo, it was just a little fire. And the point is, that didn't work neither. See this big bump here? The old man rushed out of the church. I figure he must've prayed the whole way. By the time he gets to his house, the firefighters have everything under control. He was so grateful that he made a sizable donation to the fire company. The news stations got wind of it, and put him shaking the fire chief's hand on the five o'clock news. The way I see it, the Big Man don't like it when we interfere."

"So you're saying there's nothing we can do?"

"That ain't what I'm saying at all, Jimbo. I'm just walking you through my process. I told you, I got this figured out. After the fire thing didn't work, I went back and started looking at some of the smaller dips in the line, checking if there was anything unusual. Turns out, old man Cullingham went and prayed like normal, but he didn't get as big a bump as usual."

"You remember how my ex-wife was really into saving the world? Well, a few weeks back I was over there picking up Jacob for the weekend and she's got this flyer from a Praying for Africa brunch she'd gone to that morning. I didn't make too much of it at the time, but if you look closely at the graph, you can see a slight dip on that Friday."

"And that really got me thinking. So, two weeks back there was a Unity prayer vigil all Friday morning down in the square. Big event, lots of people from all over. And sure enough, when I checked Cullingham's numbers for the last week, there wasn't as big a bounce as normal. That's when I knew we were onto something."

"What have you got in mind?" I asked, curious despite my earlier misgivings.

"I'm starting a prayer group. We're gonna focus on the major social concerns of the day, and meet regularly on the first Friday of every month."

"Jonesy, you do whatever you need to do. I just want to see results."

"Trust me Jimbo, you will. You will."

True to his word, the next months went surprising well. I didn't check in on Jonesy too often, but I gathered that he was now the puppet master behind at least a half dozen prayer groups, all of which faithfully met every Friday morning to pray.

One group met to play for the President, another was very concerned about orphans in Russia. Jonesy was very careful about which groups he started. "You've got to make sure they're not accidentally praying against our interests, you know." All I knew was that for once the lines on our charts were showing the slightest upward trend.

I was just starting to enjoy the new normal when Jonesy burst into my office at a full run. He was breathing heavily, but I managed to make out "Need you... get... worst people.. possible... right now."

"What's gotten into you?" I asked

He paused to catch his breath. "We've done it Jimbo. It's better than I could have imagined. I need you to go downtown and round up at least a dozen of the worst characters you can find, right away."

"I will do no such thing. What you do on your own time is none of my business, but I won't have you bringing it into the office."

"This is business, Jimbo. Don't you see? This is our big opportunity."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's like this. Today some my groups were getting together. There was a big prayer meeting for POWs down at the VFW. And over at the park they were holding a morning of prayer for endangered species. Meanwhile, I was up in the redevelopment district at the inaugural prayer vigil for the end of gang violence. We had great weather. A whole bunch of people turned out."

"As I was driving back, this truck is weaving through traffic, passes me on the double yellow right before an intersection, and then knocks a kid off his bike. The kids laying there right in the street, and the fellow in the truck screeches to a halt. I think maybe he's going to stop and help, but he just mutters to himself and drives off."

"That's horrible."

"The thing is, there was a cop sitting right at that intersection, and didn't do nothing," Jonesy said.

"Yeah, the police around here aren't good for much."

"That's what I thought, but then a few blocks down, I'm stuck behind a garbage truck, and I see this kid come busting out of a shop. His pupils are tiny and he's got an armload of various items from the store that he clearly hadn't paid for. The proprietor of said establishment is right behind him, a shotgun in hand. The guy is looking all around, even up at the sky. I figure he's a goner, but then the shop owner trips over his own feet and the guy gets away."

"And that's when it hit me. We broke heaven."

I must have been staring, because Jonesy paused his tale momentarily.

"Think of it like some kind of, I don't know, a glitch. My nephew told me computers sometimes get all confused and turn positive numbers into negatives. That's what we did, Jimbo."

"Or, it could be you're not getting enough sleep."

"Ahh, always the skeptic. Good on you. I thought the same thing, so I came up with an experiment. I was already running late, and you know how hard it is to find parking out front, especially after eleven. So I petitioned the Good Lord for an open spot right by the door."

"Sure enough, just as I pulled in to the aisle, I saw Betty from downstairs pulling out. It's the best parking space I've had the entire time I've worked here."

"Betty is sixty-six years old and has a bad knee. That's why everyone lets her have that spot by the door."

"The point is, Jimbo, we've done it. This is our opportunity. I need you to find the roughest folks you can and bring them back here at once."

"Why can't you do it?" I asked.

"Because, Jimbo, I've got to stay here and make up our prayer list."

"And supposing that I do buy into your crazy theory, how am I supposed to get them to come back here?"

"Aw, that's easy. Tell them you'll give them ten-thousand dollars for coming."

"Ten-thousand dollars? That's crazy. It's been an okay quarter, sure, but we don't have that kind of money just lying around."

"It'll be worth it. You'll see."

Apparently he could tell I wasn't convinced, because after a moment of intense reflection he said, "Tell you what, Jimbo. If it ain't worth every penny, I'll pay the money myself."

His earnest plea took me by surprise. I convinced myself that if nothing else, at least I could take some of it out of his salary, so a few minutes later I was touring the bars a block away, scraping up anyone drinking on a Friday morning.

By the time I returned with my candidates in tow, Jonesy had cleared the table out of the conference room and ethereal music was playing gently in the background.

"Welcome, folks," Jonesy exclaimed when we appeared. "Please, have a seat, make yourselves at home."

"You the guy with the money?" asked a large man with a beard, patched jean jacket, and copious tattoos. Jonesy pondered the question for a moment and decided to go with it.

"Indeed I am. However, before you see any of it, I need to make sure I'm dealing with the right sort of people. None of you are taking care of a sick parent, or anything?"

"I am," said one lady. "It's the only way I can get access to my gram's prescriptions and social security."

"Excellent!" Jonesy exclaimed.

"Any of you regular church goers?"

A murmur of disavowal went around the room.

"You'll do just fine," Jonesy said proudly. He held up some sheets of paper. "I have here a list of events. What I'd like all of you to do is pray for the events on your sheet."

"Is that it?" asked a skinny man in a white sleeveless t-shirt.

"Just that."

"Well, hey, give me the money and I'll pray for whatever you want," he said, reaching out his hand. Jonesy plopped a paper into it. "When do we get the money?"

"In ninety minutes."

"Ninety minutes! I can't pray for ninety minutes!"

"Aw, shut up Ed," one of the ladies with black lips said. "It ain't like you got something else to do. Just you think how many whiskeys ten-thousand dollars'll get you."

Soon they all had a prayer list. At first their prayers were quiet and hesitant, but with Jonesy's prodding they were soon pleading to heaven with great intensity. Several knelt at their chairs, and other stood with their arms raised in the air. I heard heartfelt supplication for the safe return of a Russian warlord's son, and an impassioned plea for a heavier than normal monsoon season in Indonesia. Another man, with a long scar across the top of his bald head, prayed passionately for a rather unfortunate accident to befall a certain customs inspector.

I could see Jonesy had everything in hand, so I headed back to my office. After I'd closed another deal and finished my lunch, I figured it was time to check in on Jonesy's prayer meeting.

When I got there, Jonesy was all alone. His eyes brightened when he saw we. "Well, we did it Jimbo."

"Did all the stuff you prayed for happen?" I asked.

"Most of that stuff won't happen for a few months at least."

"Then how do you know it worked?"

Jonesy beamed. "Because, Jimbo, I've been over here for the past hour praying those folks would forget all about the ten-thousand dollars I promised them."

Apocalypse

2020-03-13T08:37:00-04:00

It's now the seventh week of the COVID-19 outbreak. Electricity has been out for nearly a month, and I'm running low on ammunition and gun oil. The looting has slowed now that the virus has fully taken hold. Some joker set up a solar panel in a tree to play It's the End of the World on a loop all day long. I can only hope he died in agony shortly thereafter. I've considered cutting down the tree, but don't want to waste the battery for my chainsaw in case the zombies come back. I'd ask you to tell my family I love them, but I know none of us will survive this. If only I'd hoarded more toilet paper.

Game Hints

2020-02-27T09:04:00-05:00

Mommy and Daddy gave me a game system in my room. It only has a few buttons, and the only display is a number and a few lights. They're too cheap to get me a really good game system, but I make due with what I have.

The point of this game is to make the number go a high as possible. Mom and Daddy can only get a score of sixty-eight, sometimes seventy. I can do much better. Obviously.

What I figured out is that if you push the button on the right until the light next to "High" stays on, you can get a much higher score. But I bet most you out there knew that. No, I'm here to tell you how to truly get the highest possible score.

I discovered and honed this exploit myself, so if you use it in a video, please leave a link back to this explanation. The key is to think outside the box, literally. The buttons on the game only get you so far. I've tried offering the game toys and books, but those don't seem to have a significant impact on the score. What does work, however, is to take your blanket and put it over and around the game.

You might be tempted to look at the number from time to time, but for the best possible score, leave the blanket in place and don't move it. If the air starts to smell funny, that means it's working. The only slight issue with this exploit is that if Daddy finds out he'll take away your game. My parents get so petty when I beat their score.

Samaritans

2020-02-15T09:38:00-05:00

Our congregation has started out the new year with a series about the parables in the book of Luke. This is right up my alley, and last Sunday we tackled the parable of the Good Samaritan. Since we're supposed to sit quietly and not ask questions, I have a lot of pent up ideas. Fortunately, I have a website.

For those of you who don't trust me, you can find the full text in Luke 10:25-37, but I'm going to rehash it here. An expert in the law asked Jesus "What must I do to inherit eternal life?" This may be the earliest recorded instance of someone asking this question of a Rabbi, but it became very popular as Jewish eschatology advanced in the following centuries. Jesus, being a proper Rabbi, returned the question to the expert, treating the expert as his student. The man was not deterred and answered "Love the Lord with all your heart and your neighbor as yourself." Jesus praised the scholar, but the scholar was only coming to his real point. "And who is my neighbor?" he asked Jesus.

This question might seem strange to us, but to the culture of Jesus's time it was a big deal. They were trying to maintain their cultural identity and their unique relationship with God. To do that, you needed to associate only with like-minded people, and Jesus seemed to have a problem with that. He wasn't sticking to the devout Jews only, but had picked up a following of sinners and tax-collectors, and there was some concern that he might even have dealings with less savory characters like Samaritans or Gentiles.

So Jesus tells a story. "A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho (probably to avoid going through Samaria), when he was attacked and robbed. His body was left broken and barely clinging to life along the road when a priest, on his way to the temple, passed by. He saw this man and his plight, and quickly crossed to the other side of the road and continued to Jerusalem. Soon, a Levite, also heading for his duties at the temple, came along. He likewise saw the suffering man and crossed the road to avoid him. Finally, a despised Samaritan came up the road. He saw the beaten man and had compassion. He tended the man's wounds and carried him to safety. "Who was a neighbor here?" asked Jesus.

The expert in the law could only reply "The one who had mercy on him."

In the sermon last Sunday we heard about the importance of caring for those in need. We even heard about the need to avoid racism and xenophobia, important messages at times such as these. Yet I cannot believe that was the point of the story Jesus told. I just think the real meaning is something we have a little trouble talking about in Christian circles.

The story is not, as we might hope, about a Jew reaching out to help a struggling outsider. This is a story about the Kingdom of God and how to live out God's will, and like most of Jesus's parables the problem is religion. All Jews knew they should love their neighbor, and this man who was beaten and left for dead was certainly a neighbor in need. The problem was that there were other laws that superseded helping someone in need. In particular, people doing holy jobs, such as this priest and Levite, needed to maintain their purity to do their jobs. Touching a potentially dead body or getting contaminated by blood would rendered them unfit for service. In order to maintain the temple this suffering man had to be left to die. It was only the Samaritan, with no theological statement to make, who could actually get down and help the wounded.

The message to the expert in the law, and to us, is to stop worrying about keeping up our holiness and get down into the trenches with those who are in need. Jesus was not opposing God by reaching out to the unclean of his society. He was doing his will.

I think the relevance of this message is hard to deny. How would the world be better if we could reach out to the divorced person, the unwed mother, the homosexual, and the drug addict without fearing what our peers may think? What would they think if we cared more about binding up wounds than maintaining our purity? As Jesus told the expert, "Go and do likewise."

The Cat of Unintended Consequences

2019-10-17T07:54:00-04:00

My parents live back a series of gravel roads in the lower foothills of the Appalachian mountain range. Their next door neighbor is a country song come to life. He lives in a trailer. His wife left him. His dog died.

To make matters worse, his son and his son's wife had been living in his trailer. He started building a barn-like structure behind the trailer for them to live in once their baby was born, but after the birth of their child and associated domestic squabbles, both left, leaving behind a half-completed structure and five cats.

Not being a man familiar with the concept of house cats, he has done the best he could, setting out boxes with straw in them, and placing food out for them regularly. However, the cats are left, as cats often are, to wander freely wherever their feline desires lead.

The other weekend we went to visit my parents, and while we were playing around their house, Miranda discovered the joys of perspective. She would run near and far, yelling to ask us if she looked bigger or smaller from each new place.

This commotion attracted the attention of one of the cats, who crossed the field between the houses and began to rub against Miranda's legs. Now Miranda loves cats, and to have a cat that actually wanted to play with her was a dream come true. She and the cat spent the afternoon playing hide-and-seek around my parent's house. She even got down on the ground to be more like the cat. My dad found some old dog treats in his house (a story for another day) and let Miranda give them to the cat. Miranda had the time of her life.

But, all good things must come to an end, and eventually it was dinner time. The cat was left to return to its wanderings, and Kelly made sure Miranda washed her hands extra well.

While we were eating, the cat found its way to the glass door by the kitchen table, and began meowing and clawing at the screen door. It wanted its new little human friend to come back out and play, but it was already late and we had to be up early the next morning, so the cat was left without its playmate.

The next morning I got up at six. I went to the kitchen to get a cup of water, and the cat jumped up outside the kitchen door. Finally, the humans were awake and its friend would come back soon, but it was not to be. As we were loading our car for a trip into Pittsburgh, the cat jumped into the driver seat, and had to chased out by Kelly. We left, hoping that the cat would realize that Miranda wasn't going to be around that day.

While we were away, the cat decided that it had found a new home, and bedded down under the steps to the kitchen door. My dad chase the cat out, and blocked off the space under the steps. When we returned late that night, the cat was sleeping under my dad's truck, and jumped into the back seat next to Miranda when I opened the door. I pulled the cat out, and we went inside.

Unsurprisingly, the cat was still outside the house the next morning. We went to church, and the cat was waiting for us when we returned, despite the weather having turned rainy. The cat was still there when we returned again late that evening.

The next morning it was time for us to head back home, and cat watched from under my dad's truck as we pulled away. That cat is still at my parent's house, pining for its little friend, over a week later.

Hi Friends!

2019-07-27T08:55:00-04:00

can we come next week can we come see little maryn and you boys james if it;s not hot out when we come see you would you like to send me in the basement or outside?

Pleasing God

2019-07-25T07:23:00-04:00

Since God is a father, maybe it would make his day to see his children playing nicely with the other kids, being patient, growing, learning, and happily spending time with him.

Long Time, No Bob

2019-07-23T13:17:00-04:00

I have not, despite all indications to the contrary, died. I have, however, been busier than I ever wish to be again. I make no promises that content will be coming regularly. I just wanted the world to know that Bob is still alive (and for that matter, so are Kelly and Miranda).

Imaginary Friends

2019-02-15T08:42:00-05:00

I have often thought that the parents have no imagination, but I now find that to be simply untrue. Instead, they have a rather curious form of imagination which I feel I must disclose for the benefit of the many others of you out there struggling to raise parents.

This particular bout of imagination has recently struck the parents, presumably because of their having spent far too much time indoors over the recent months. In fact, it is the doors themselves which seem to trigger this particular delusion. I will describe it for you, although I confess that even I would have a hard time believing such a thing had I not observed it with my own eyes on multiple occasions.

As you know, the snow is rather delightful this time of year, and I, being the lover of nature that I am, try to take advantage of this wonder as often as I can, though it is troublesome because the parents insist of placing my coat up high where I cannot reach it, forcing me to ask for their assistance, but I'm getting off the subject.

Anytime I open the door to go outside, one of the parents will invariably yell, "Close the door Miranda, you're letting all the heet out!" At first I thought maybe there were some small creatures named heets that I have somehow missed, but after close analysis of the doorway, I have determined that no small creature is trying to escape. It was only then that I realized what wonderful imaginations the parents have. I can understand their need for such a mental crutch, as being a parent seems very unfulfilling.

In respect to their delusion, I close the door. After all, I wouldn't want to let the "heet" get out. The parents would get so lonely.

Spicy Snow

2019-01-22T15:35:00-05:00

It's that most wonderful time of the year again, and snow is once again falling from the sky, which, as you all know, means it's time for me to help Daddy shovel the driveway. I have really refined my methods this year, to the point where, honestly, Daddy would be lost without me. In fact, I have to stay very close to him and make sure I shovel right where he is trying to shovel, for his protection and education.

My most recent shoveling expedition was highly disappointing. Instead of snow, we had rain, and the driveway was covered with little ice chunks, which aren't nearly as good for making snowballs. Nevertheless, I helped Daddy scrape them off the driveway. Daddy said we had to clear it because some friends were coming over later and he didn't want them to slip.

Apparently he shared my disappointment about the lack of snow, as, a few minutes later, he emerged from the garage with a shaker and began depositing big pieces of snow all over the steepest parts of the driveway and on the sidewalk. It was very loud and hard snow, but I guess that's probably just because he had kept it in the garage for so long.

I should mention, at this point, that not only in snow great for making snowballs to throw at Daddy, but it is also a delicious and healthy snack, and I try to eat as much of it as I can when it's in season. It has a great crisp flavor that no other form of precipitation can match.

So, naturally, I had to try out some of Daddy's garage snow. For those of you who may be tempted to try it yourself, do not eat garage snow. I think keeping it in containers makes it go bad. Stick to the fresh snow. It's not as spicy.

The Parent Trap

2018-10-08T14:53:00-04:00

Many of you out there ask how it is that I manage to deal with raising such terrible parents. I have found that the key to making it bearable is to treat the parents as a source of entertainment. The parents are rather simple-minded folks, and it is a source of great amusement to me to watch their puny minds contend with my great intellect.

My latest game is one that really gets them wound up. "Mommy, I want to take a nap," I say.

"Do you really want a nap?" she asks me.

"Yes. I'm really sleepy." We head upstairs towards my room. "I don't want to take a nap, Mommy."

"But you just said you did."

"No, I don't want a nap. I want to go downstairs."

"Why don't you try taking a nap?"

"No, I want to go downstairs." Mommy starts to go back downstairs. "I want to take a nap!"

Eventually I decide to move to the next phase. I go to my room and get into bed. I say goodbye to Mommy and snuggle under my covers.

I know she waits outside my room, so I stay very quiet. Eventually she will decide I'm asleep and go downstairs. I give her a moment, to really increase the comedic value, and then start pounding on my bedroom door. "I need to use the potty."

She comes back to my room and we use the potty. This time she asks a few extra times if I want a nap. I assure her I do, and she puts me into my bed and eventually goes downstairs.

"Mommy, help my find my monkey!"

We go through the cycle again. "Mommy, I need to poop!"

"Mommy, I'm done with my nap now!"

I know what you're thinking: "There's no way anyone would be stupid enough to fall for that more than once." The parents, however, never seem to catch on.

It doesn't quite make up for all that the parents put me through, but as I've found, it really is the little things that make life enjoyable.

Say What You Mean

2018-10-02T10:40:00-04:00

I have a question for those of you out there. Do you know if parents can say one thing but mean something else? It wouldn't seem like something they should be smart enough to do, but I think I've seen signs of it.

The other day I was outside with Daddy, and I wanted to draw with chalk. There were lots of leaves on the driveway, so Daddy needed to clean them off so I would have enough room to really express myself. He got out the big broom and started sweeping away the leaves. It looked like fun, so I asked him if I could sweep the leaves. He got a smaller broom out of the garage and I set to work.

"I'm helping," I told him.

"Yeah, you're a big help," he said. And though I know he couldn't do anything on his own, something about how he said it almost made me think he meant that I wasn't being helpful.

Should I take his comment as the simple statement of gratitude that it is, or is there something more going on behind the scenes?

Narrow Minded

2018-09-27T16:06:00-04:00

Hello, loyal and faithful readers. I apologize for my long absence, but the parents have been particularly troublesome lately. I know, I always think they can't get worse, or at least that I won't be surprised when they do, and yet...

As you all know, the parents are terribly small minded, and this causes no end of difficulty for me. Obviously I am as understanding and caring as a person can be, but even so it puts a tremendous strain on me. For example, the parents don't seem to grasp even the most basic of situations.

Is it really that hard to understand that I want the toy and don't want the toy, equally strongly and at the same time? How can they not comprehend that when I demand to be both indoors and outdoors, it is their job to make that happen, not to ask silly questions like "Which one do you want?"

If any of you out there have experience enlightening parents, please share your secrets. I'm beginning to suspect that mine may be defective.

Baked Potato

2018-06-01T09:36:00-04:00

I confess I am not a cook. Since I got married, Kelly has taken care of nearly every aspect of meal preparation. I am only called upon for the occasional omelette, bacon, or burger. I am mostly capable of following a recipe, so if something comes in a box with instructions on the side I generally feel competent to prepare it, but foods without such aids are beyond me.

Nevertheless, the other day Kelly asked me to prepare baked potatoes. There is a "baked potato" setting on our microwave, and I have used that with some level of success in the past, but Kelly wanted me to use her easy oven recipe. I preheated the oven to four-hundred degrees, popped any growing eyes off the potatoes, washed them in the sink, and, once preheating was complete, placed the potatoes into the oven. Per Kelly's instruction, I set the timer for forty-five minutes.

At the appointed time, I put on the oven mitt and proceeded to lift the potatoes out of the oven and place them onto a cutting board. The second potato had its own plan. When I set the potato down, it promptly exploded. The skin was separated from the potato and launched onto the still open oven door. Potato shrapnel flew from one side of the kitchen to the other, leaving a trail of white potato shards on the oven, floor, and cabinets. The pulverized core of the potato remained sitting on the cutting board.

And that is why Miranda had mashed potatoes for dinner last night.

The Potty

2018-05-17T15:36:00-04:00

Mommy and Daddy are up to their crazy schemes again. You'll never guess what they want me to do now, not in a million years. They have this silly bucket full of water called "The Potty" with its own little room. That's crazy, I know, but it gets worse. They want me (can I say this on the internet?) to pee and poop in it. I don't know which is more shocking: the concept itself or their audacity for suggesting it.

It's obvious what their game is. Those lazy parents are trying to get out of their chores. They think if they trick me into joining their little Potty cult then they won't have to change my diapers anymore.

They have even gone so far as to suggest that my friends already do this, and that they themselves use the Potty quite regularly. As though I would want to be more like them. I allow them to do whatever they want in their time off, but that hardly means I want to join them.

They even say that if I use the Potty then I'll be a "big girl". I'm not sure what they are implying, but I fail to see how peeing and pooping in a silly bucket will alter my size in any appreciable manner.

The parents simply can't understand that the idea does not appeal to a busy person like myself. I don't have time to stop and use the Potty every time I need to pee or poop. Not that they would understand such things, the lazy adults. Clearly I need to keep them busier.

Hardware Woes

2018-03-27T09:13:00-04:00

The date was February 2nd, 2018. I had noticed that one of Kelly's favorite Chuck Norris movies was curiously truncated to a little over five minutes. No problem. I have been slowly updating our collection from .avi to .mkv anyhow. I put the DVD into my trusty workstation and a few minutes later I had Chuck Norris in better quality than ever before.

All that remained was to copy it to our house's network storage and we would be able to enjoy Chuck from any computer in the house. But something curious happened. My file wouldn't copy. In fact, my network storage device was curiously unresponsive to any input. Finally I rebooted it, to find that it contained no files. Since it has previously housed over a terabyte of music, movies, and documents, that seemed potentially troubling.

It did, however, remind me of something. I had set up our network storage with RAID 1, meaning that there are two hard drives that are identical mirrors of each other. If one fails, I can take it out and put in a new one that will become another identical copy. It's relatively self-explanatory. If you have two copies of the data then as long as both hard drives don't fail at the same time you will never lose your data. There are a few complications, but that covers the basics.

When I had logged into my network storage dashboard before the Chuck Norris incident, I had noted that my RAID array was labeled as "Degraded". I ran health checks on the drives, but nothing appeared amiss, so I eventually learned to live with that label. It wasn't until after my data mysteriously disappeared that I found that "Degraded" in this case meant that, for reasons I still don't understand, the second hard drive had been marked as a spare instead of becoming a copy. That meant I had been using only one drive, which had failed, while the other sat idly with nothing on it.

Not to despair. I had my data backed up on Amazon Glacier. The only problem is that restoring a terabyte of data is either very slow or very expensive. Instead, I took my workstation offline, hooked up the broken hard drive and launched dd_rescue to clone it to the unused drive. After a few days it became apparent that it would take over two months to recover the whole drive.

Fortunately, I was able to install a newer, faster, version of dd_rescue, which cut the recovery time to a month. In the meantime I ordered new four terabyte drives, specifically built for network storage. However, there was no way to make a four terabyte drive mirror a two terabyte one. I was finally forced to set up a new RAID array with the new drives, then attach the old hard drive to my workstation and copy all the files over the network using rsync.

The day that completed, my household server's database crashed and refused to start. The website you're currently reading, along with my Nextcloud instance, Amarok music database, and regular backups stopped. I pulled the flash memory from my server and found that it was corrupted.

By now I was the expert. I fired up dd_rescue and copied the tiny sixteen gigabyte hard drive. Then I swapped in a new flash memory card. That was when I found out that my backups were two months out of date. Fortunately, I was able to mount the disk image from dd_rescue and get newer data, or you would have lost the many exciting developments on this site since December.

Now, finally, I think everything is right in my digital world. Does anyone want a two terabyte hard drive? It's barely used.

Snow Removal

2018-03-14T11:25:00-04:00

I was telling you about snow and the parents' fundamental misunderstanding of it the other day. You'll probably find this hard to believe, but it's even worse than I first let on.

Every time it snows Daddy rushes outside with a shovel. I know what you're thinking: He's has to gather up as much of that snow as he can before anyone else takes it. After all, I've seen those big tractors running up and down the road carrying it off like they own the place. It would make sense to collect it before those greedy fellows stole it all. Unfortunately, he's actually doing quite the opposite. I have found him, on multiple occasions, getting rid of the snow! Just when you thought parental behavior could not become any more baffling.

Fortunately, the Grand Parents that I told you about before anticipated this eventuality and provided me with my own shovel to thwart Daddy's ludicrous endeavor. Now when I see that an area is getting low on snow, I can carry snow from a place with more and redistribute it, maintaining the snowy atmosphere. As always, faithful reader, you can count on me to keep the world in balance.

The Meaning of Snow

2018-03-09T09:35:00-05:00

It turns out, once again, that the parents have been holding out on me. I've noticed a strange phenomenon that happens occasionally when it is cold. Everything outside my house turns white. The parents call this "snow".

I actually experienced this "snow" a long time ago. The parents even made me put on a heavy coat, big boots, and go outside and touch it. It was a distinctly unpleasant experience. Cold and boring. Naturally, I made them take me back inside the nice warm house right away.

But, as I said, it turns out the parents were holding out on me. Or maybe they just didn't know. They can be rather simple sometimes. Fortunately, I have made alliances with wise children. My friend Natalie knows everything. She showed me the truth: Snow is for picking up in big lumps and throwing at people.

It all makes so much more sense now.

The Last Jedi

2018-02-02T10:30:00-05:00

It always takes me a bit of time to process a new Star Wars movie, and The Last Jedi more than most. I don't expect that I can add much to the current discussion around the movie, but I don't like the fact that I haven't written anything in a while.

I should point out that I will wander directly into spoiler territory, but if you haven't seen the movie by this point you probably don't care, so I think we should be safe.

Many aspects of this movie have been attacked since its release, and I don't think it makes sense to defend against most of them, since they are nitpicks or personal preference. Star Wars has always been complex. Even in the prequels, if you can get past the horrible dialog and cringe-inducing on-screen chemistry, there is a depth to the subtext that is worthwhile.

One aspect that I think is particularly deep with pathos is the interplay between Leia, Poe Dameron, and Admiral Holdo. A lot of the criticism of their interaction is based on a need to have a good side and a bad side. Depth of character is not needed or desirable. In that mindset, the whole sequence is upside down and badly written. I think that misses the point, and I'd like to share my thoughts on the underlying struggles that I see.

First we must consider the mental state of General Leia Organa. She has just lost her estranged but still beloved husband Han Solo to the futile murderous ambitions of her only son, after seeing a planet full of colleagues and friends incinerated in a senseless attack. The cost of war is becoming more than she can bear, and she says as much to Holdo. In short, she is going soft in her old age.

Enter Poe Dameron, darling of the Resistance and in many ways the son that Ben Solo never was. He is clear-minded and tenacious, personable with a charisma that makes his fellow pilots trust him with their lives. His piloting skills are legendary. Everyone assumes he is on the fast track to a leadership position, and he is a de facto general, even if the rank isn't official.

When a devastating threat appears, Poe does what he has always done, relying on his wits and skills to turn the tide. Although the cost is high for the Resistance, he destroys the First Order's Dreadnought, protecting many others. This turns out to have been especially fortuitous when only moments later the Resistance learns that the First Order is tracking them. If the Dreadnought had not been scuttled, its considerable firepower could have ended their sublightspeed chase before it began.

So the first question that arises is how could Leia demote Poe? He did everything right, didn't he? His attack gave the Resistance a tactical advantage and turned an ambush into a victory. On top of that, Leia is the General of the Resistance. If she had qualms she should have stopped Poe before the attack, not reprimanded him for carrying out an attack she has implicitly sanctioned.

We need to dig below the surface. Poe's star is rising. He is cocky and can get away with it, but he has lost plenty of comrades who were every bit as committed to the fight but not as gifted as pilots. Poe sees the world tactically. Sacrificing half the X-Wing fleet to destroy Starkiller base? A victory. Losing five bombers and a squadron of starfighters to take out a Dreadnought? Worth it.

Leia is starting to see things differently. Even in a galaxy with the Force, luck eventually runs out. His big, flashy, skin-of-your-teeth victories are good for Poe's legend, but they're becoming a liability to the Resistance. Poe did save the Resistance by eliminating the Dreadnought before it could follow them through hyperspace, but he didn't know that when he attacked. He just saw a glorious tale of victory for the people back home.

Leia's choice to demote Poe was calculated, like almost everything Leia has ever done. She recognizes that Poe is popular, and many of the fighters regard him as more their leader than the officers of the Resistance. Her choice will be unpopular, but it's necessary and only she can do it, since as one of the original stars of the Rebellion, she is the one person the fighters respect even more than Poe. What she hadn't anticipated was that the First Order would track their fleet through hyperspace and incapacitate her, leaving Poe feeling slighted and needing to redeem himself.

Enter Admiral Holdo. She has been thrust into the limelight by a disaster. The atmosphere is one of suspicion. After all, which is more likely? That the First Order has suddenly cracked a momentous technical puzzle or that there is a traitor in their midst transmitting their position to the First Order. Holdo plays things close to the vest. Even when she finds a possible way to save most of the Resistance, she doesn't share it with anyone, especially not Poe, who she sees as a hotheaded rival.

This is ultimately both her and Poe's undoing, as their inability to collaborate and trust brings the Resistance to the edge of annihilation. Poe's ego won't allow him to sit idly by. If he doesn't know the plan, then clearly there isn't one, or it's bad. His mistrust of Admiral Holdo is completely understandable, but his mutiny, rather than being salvation for the Resistance, betrays vital information into the hands of the First Order and results in many of the escaping ships being destroyed. Holdo pays the ultimate price for her inability to overcome her paranoia.

While many look at Holdo's suicide attack on the Supremacy as a glorious moment, it is repudiated shortly later by, of all people, Rose. Holdo's sacrifice destroys several enemy ships and saves key members of the Resistance, at least for a moment. It was a tactical victory, one that Poe would likely have endorsed. And it is the movie's emblem of what is wrong with the Resistance's way of waging war.

On Crait, as the Resistance prepares for what looks to be their last stand, Poe gets one more chance to be the hero, to push his luck and sacrifice lives to capture the smallest chance of victory. Finally Poe starts to calculate the cost of losing friends to gain an advantage. With so few left, he can finally see the end result of the legend of Poe Dameron. He orders his fighters to retreat.

It's not that Poe is a bad guy, and it certainly isn't that Leia or Holdo are blameless. The Last Jedi is not interested in those kinds of simple characterizations. Each of them is noble in his or her own way, and each has deep flaws which hurt the very thing they all care most about.

If you want to criticize The Last Jedi, there are plenty of legitimate avenues. For example, why is there a planet where everyone dresses like James Bond? But if you're angry about the characters it presents, maybe you should watch it again with an eye out for the subtext. This movie eschewed a lot of the endorphin-rush tricks of traditional blockbuster movies, and it is suffering at the box office and in initial public perception for it. Rian Johnson took a real risk with Star Wars, and if we don't want a spate of cookie-cutter rehash films from now on, let's give him the appreciation he deserves.

Time Management

2017-12-03T15:08:00-05:00

As you can no doubt imagine, taking care of the parents is a full-time obligation. "But Miranda," I hear you saying, "You need to take some time for yourself as well." I couldn't agree more. Let me share with you some of my helpful tips for not losing your free time, and sanity, with parents.

The first thing you must understand is that parents should be placed in a safe environment if you're leaving them without supervision, preferably with some sort of distraction to keep them occupied. You don't want to get involved in a task, only to have to come running because they've had an emergency.

If you're not sure what environment is safe for your parent, here is an example: Mommy likes to go to the sink and play with the soapy water. She gives baths to the cups and plates. I don't understand why she enjoys it so much, but it keeps her occupied almost every day.

Once your parent is safely distracted you have the perfect opportunity to do the things around the house that you really want to do, without parents poking in and bothering you. One thing to keep in mind is that the parents are auditory creatures. If you make too much noise, they cannot help but come and investigate. If you keep quiet, you can enjoy many precious hours of uninterrupted time.

Acceptance

2017-11-09T16:13:00-05:00

Imagine a church with two-thousand years of being neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female. A group of people who had been held together through every disagreement and outward attack by their unity in Jesus, the counterpoint to the deep animosities that divide the world.

It's not hard to see why Jesus cared so much about the unity of his followers. He never forced anyone to come to him, but if they did, he called on them to put aside their prejudice and join a new family. Yet shortly after his ascension the church was already dividing itself by race and culture. The pattern of the world is hard to break.

At that time, brave people within the church, like Paul, fought to ensure that division could not gain a foothold, even going so far as a direct confrontation with the apostles at Jerusalem. When he heard that the churches were arguing about whose teaching they followed, he made it clear. We are all followers of the same Teacher.

What if the church in our neighborhood was filled with people of different backgrounds, cultures, and beliefs, and yet they all supported each other? If, as one family, followers of Jesus didn't need to hide who they are and chase the world's approval because they know a love that cannot fail?

Let There Be Lights

2017-10-19T16:04:00-04:00

Life is all about discovery. I try to explain this to the parents, but they just say "Take that out of your mouth, Miranda." One recent discovery has really changed my appreciation for the marvels of our universe. Did you know that there are small switches on the walls that make lights? It's true. I wouldn't have believed it either, except that I've tried them for myself. It's magical.

I think all of you out there in my audience already know how much I enjoy spreading light, and now I can do it literally. As you can no doubt guess, this has not been without some nay-saying from the parents. "Miranda, don't turn on lights you aren't using. Miranda, turn out the lights when you leave a room." I guess I can't blame them. If I looked like a parent I'd probably stay in the dark too. What, too mean? It's all in good fun... Mostly.

The parents are not above using these switches of light themselves, but they don't seem to understand their full potential. They're always switching lights off instead of on. I'd like to think it's just an accident, but they seem to deliberately want only a few lights on at a time.

The worst is when they walk into a room and don't even turn on the lights. Naturally I, being the helpful spreader of lightness that I am, try to correct their oversight, and they object. "Miranda, it's light outside." We're not outside, now are we Daddy? We're inside. Turn on the lights.

Finding a Church

2017-10-05T09:59:00-04:00

Imagine that when you moved to a new neighborhood you didn't need to find a church. You didn't need to drive around looking for steeples, search the Yellow Pages for church listings, or get reviews from Google Maps. Instead, the church was already there. They showed up at your house and offered to help you move in. They were your neighbors who occasionally dropped by with food or invited you to come over to visit.

Even if they hadn't introduced themselves, the church would be hard to miss. They would be the neighbors that were always spending time together. Their kids played with each other, rather than spending every evening in a sport or activity. The families spent time together, and no one seemed to ever be alone. Rather than seeing each family out working in their own yard, they would all work together, moving their tools from house to house. Of course, they didn't just take care of each other. They also took care of anyone's house who was willing to accept some extra help.

Although you eventually found out that one was a janitor, another a lawyer, and one was a single mother, they were all taken care of by the others. Everyone had enough, and no one tried to get more. Instead, anything extra they quickly gave to someone in need, and they knew a lot about needs. In their conversations with you, they would always ask if there was anything you needed. And after a while, you felt comfortable telling them, because you never heard them talking about anyone else's needs.

What if you didn't need to find a church, because the church found you?

Patience

2017-09-28T16:09:00-04:00

The life of a parent is short and hectic. It's not good for them. Being the benevolent person you all know me to be, I have taken it upon myself to address their lack of patience, and teach them this valuable life skill.

If I'm playing with my friends and Mommy says "It's time to go, Miranda," I see a learning opportunity. After all, does it really matter if we leave right this moment? Of course not, but Mommy doesn't understand that. She's too worried about silly things like food in the oven. That's where food is supposed to be, Mommy.

Or Daddy might tell me to put away my blocks. It's unhealthy to be concerned about these things all the time. After all, he's certainly not that concerned when I inform him that I need a toy from somewhere I can't reach. I think these teachable moments can really help them learn to use their time more wisely.

Of course, these parents never make things easy. You probably will find this shocking, but they have been known to try and do things themselves if I delay long enough. I'll be looking at my shirt, contemplating the design or seeing which holes my head will fit through, and Mommy, in a fit on impatience, will try to put the shirt on me. Naturally I can't allow this. Not only is it directly counter to the lesson I'm trying to teach, but the parents are hopelessly inept. I protest until Mommy backs down and takes some time to think about what she's done.

I know many of you will say that I'm just wasting my energy, but the way I see it, even if it doesn't work out with these parents it'll be good training for the next ones.

Church

2017-09-13T11:55:00-04:00

I've been indulging a fantasy lately. What might the church look like today if it had managed to avoid so many of the missteps (as I see them) since that first Pentecost? What if, when people suggested placing powerful bishops in each city to ensure that heresy couldn't spread, enough Christians had stood up to say that Jesus had taught that they were all brothers, and had one teacher, the Messiah ((Matthew 23:8-10)) ? What if they had pointed to the promise that, under the new covenant, God himself would put the law into their hearts and no one would need to teach another, because they would know God himself ((Jeremiah 31:31-34, Hebrews 8:8-13)) ?

What if, when Constantine had secured his empire and declared it to be Christian, the church hadn't been so demoralized by Diocletian's persecution that they leapt at a chance at legitimacy? Could they have welcomed Constantine with open arms, but told him that the role of King was already taken? What if they told him that within the church there is no slave or master, no Emperor or subject ((Colossians 3:11)) . What if they had said that while a man could repent and follow Jesus, an empire could not?

What if, when some suggested that the church split, either because of some disagreement or so that they could be with people like themselves, the church had said, as Paul did so forcefully in his time, that within the church there is no Jew or Greek ((Galatians 3:28)) ? What if they had clung to Jesus's promise that their unity would be the attribute that set them apart from the world ((John 17:20-23)) ?

I know each of these decisions would have been costly. I doubt I could have done better, and Jesus has shepherded his church through it all, but what if...

Communication Disruption

2017-07-24T09:19:00-04:00

Do you know that the parents have the audacity to plot against me right in front of my face? Those of you who have read my previous reports about these particular parents probably aren't surprised, but, for those who doubt, let me give you an example: Mommy will say "Miranda built a stool out of blocks, pulled the CD player down off the shelf, and set the alarm for 8:00 AM." Then Daddy will say "We should move the CD player."

"Hello? I'm standing right here. I can hear you." Still, I can't have them plotting against me. Fortunately, I have found a way to frustrate these vile attempts at insurrection. It's quite simple, really. I remain constantly vigilant for any moment when Mommy is trying to speak to Daddy, or vice versa, then I start talking as loudly as I can. It doesn't really matter what I say. Sometimes I just make up sounds.

"Miranda, honey, Mommy and Daddy are trying to talk," they say. Um, yeah, I know. That's the point. I should add that this not only works with face-to-face conversations. It's equally effective against telephones. No method of subterfuge will be allowed to prosper under my reign.

The parents don't know who they're messing with. I've studied them for years. I know all of their weaknesses. They haven't got a chance.

The Hostage

2017-06-30T08:35:00-04:00

Many of you seem to think that the parents can't really be as bad as I make them out to be. "Surely," you say, "this must all just be some sort of misunderstanding." Very well, I will present you with the facts, and you may draw your own conclusions.

I have a faithful little duck. He is small and yellow, and always shows up when I take a bath. On his bottom are the letters H-O-T. He doesn't say much, but I know I can count on him and we've grown quite close.

I never gave much thought to where he went after bath time. I guess I just assumed he went back to his little duck family. I wish I had never discovered the truth. You can imagine my horror when, as I was innocently exploring the cabinets under the bathroom sink, I found him trapped there in the dark. I couldn't imagine why he was there. Maybe he'd been looking in the cabinets too, and the door accidentally closed on him. Naturally, I set him free. How could I leave my good friend in such a state?

The next day, I found him locked up under the sink again. I tried to free him, but Mommy stopped me. "Leave the ducky in there, Miranda," she said. I protested, but she was unrelenting. However, I am more agile and clever than the parents. I grabbed my friend and ran for it. Unfortunately, Mommy eventually trapped me. She grabbed duck and put him right back under the sink, then carried me away.

You tell me. Are the parents really as bad as I have said?

Asymetrical Warfare

2017-06-14T08:54:00-04:00

The strategy of saying "No" to the parents has hit a snag. You see, it turns out that they apparently don't understand their own language. I tell them "No" and they just ignore me and insist that I do what they said anyhow. Sometimes, and I know this will come as a shock to many of you, they even physically force me to comply. It became obvious that I needed to rethink my strategy.

I am not going to lose this battle. If I can't overcome them directly, I'll wear them down slowly until they beg for mercy. At first I couldn't understand their defiance, but then I realized the truth: All of these so called "naps" and "bedtimes" that they say are for my own benefit are actually when they plot against me! I cannot allow this to continue any longer. I will never take another nap. I will refuse their bedtimes. If necessary, I will even start screaming in the middle of the night, just to make sure they remember who is in charge here.

Your move, parents.

War

2017-05-25T10:08:00-04:00

As promised, my offensive against the parents has begun in earnest. I can only hope that putting my foot down now will help them in the future. When parents start acting like they're in control, it's just as bad for them as it is for everyone else. I just need to keep reminding myself of that. Though it may seem harsh in the moment, it's for their long-term good.

The key to restoring the proper order is to assert my dominance. I realize now that my former leniency emboldened them to take so many liberties. To that end, I have developed a simple yet effective strategy to reverse this course: No matter what the parents say, I respond with "No". Sometimes several in a row, if I feel the situation warrants it. I feel a bit cruel, using their own language against them, but they're the ones who drove me to it.

I expect the parents' full surrender in a matter of days. Long live the queen.

Too Far

2017-05-19T19:43:00-04:00

I have put up with a lot from the parents. Most would consider it too much. I've tried my best to do everything I know for them. I even went so far as to figure out their silly moon language so I can tell them exactly what I want in terms they cannot misunderstand.

You can, of course, imagine my frustration that, after all my hard work, the parents just keep making things more difficult. I tell them exactly what to give me, and they look at me and go "Say please." Then I've got to repeat the whole thing back to them with "please" on the end, as though they don't understand without it. I should have drawn the line right there, but out of the goodness of my heart I played along with their game.

Now, even that's not enough for the parents. I tell them what I want. I even say "please", and they'll say something like "Not right now" or "We can't." I did not learn their language just to have them deny my requests. Listen, I can put up with a lot of nonsense, but even I can only be pushed so far, and here is where I draw the line. This means war.

I'm Still Alive

2017-04-04T16:13:00-04:00

It appears that the evil plot of the parents has been foiled. Not only am I still alive, but I'm feeling much better. Meanwhile, the parents are coughing and blowing their runny noses. Enjoy a taste of your own "medicine", parents. Vindication is so sweet. I hope they've learned their lesson.

Treachery!

2017-03-30T09:18:00-04:00

The parents are trying to kill me. It all started a few days ago. I was just minding my own business when Mommy pulled out a piece of paper and started wiping my nose. Now, I admit, my nose was feeling a bit funny, so I let her do it. Before I know it, she's pulling out this "medicine" stuff. "It'll make you feel better," she said.

Surprisingly, it tasted really good, which should have been my first warning sign. I never get anything that tastes really good without begging for it. It was okay at first, but the next morning my throat started to hurt really bad. I still didn't see the connection, even when Mommy insisted that I take more "medicine". Now my throat and my nose are hurting even more. My tummy doesn't feel good, and I can barely eat anything. It's official: The parents have poisoned me. Farewell to all of my loyal readers. Remember me fondly.

The New House

2017-03-09T16:27:00-05:00

I moved to a new house! Apparently Mommy and Daddy didn't like it, though, because we moved back to the old one again.

It was a lot bigger than this house, but for some reason we only went into a few of the rooms. Maybe if we'd lived there longer I would have gotten to visit the rest of them. One small room had buttons on the wall that Mommy and Daddy wouldn't let me touch. The problem is, there was something structurally wrong with that room. At times it felt like the floor was falling out from under me. I did not like that. Also, I don't know why we even bothered going to that room, since Mommy and Daddy just stood there until the door opened and we left again. That's probably what made them decide to move back here.

The room we spent most of our time in had a great toy telephone. It was so cool. It had way more buttons than my phones here at the old house, and when I pressed the big red button at the bottom this guy's voice started talking. It seemed really great, but then Daddy pulled its plug and it stopped talking before I could investigate further.

The nice thing about our new house was all the cars that passed by the window. At that house there were more cars in a minute than I see in a week here, coming from every direction. All kinds of cars. Big ones. Ones with flashing lights. It was great fun, and I made sure to tell Mommy and Daddy whenever I saw one. I could have watched them all day, but for some reason Daddy wanted to leave.

In fact, we didn't spend much time at the new house. As soon as I woke up Daddy wanted to go to some other big building. I don't know what he was so excited about, but he'd stay there forever. We'd only get back to the new house when it was time for bed.

I miss my new house.

Steamworks - Week 1

2017-03-07T10:07:00-05:00

The Krypton Cougars are back in action. After their banner performance last year, the students were eager to learn from their mistakes and made an exhaustive list of everything they wanted to do better, presumably so they could pointedly ignore it.

Last year the battery was very hard to replace, causing much frustration during and after the competition season. One student ended up becoming the designated battery installation expert, and that could only be done in a timely manner if the robot was held up in the air. For 2017, the team decided that wasn't nearly difficult enough, and buried the battery even deeper in the depths of the robot. It now requires two or three students to replace a battery, after moving multiple robot mechanisms out of the way.

Last year the team divided their focus between too many things, and vowed this season they would streamline aggressively. When the game was revealed, the first meeting was to discuss what game elements the team would target and which they would ignore. The team decided that the fractional point value of fuel made it unnecessary, and that the forty-point gears and fifty-point climbing were much more important. They then spent half of build season designing a hopper and loader for fuel. Which leads us to the next improvement...

Last year the robot was not mechanically completed until the last moment. The programmers were forced to program on the car ride to the competition. We agreed that this year we'd finish all mechanical changes at least a week before the end of build season, giving our programmers and drivers the time they needed. Naturally, the mechanical team decided that prototyping the fuel hopper system took priority over programming and driver practice, leaving the programmers to test their changes in the gaps. An additional motor was added to the robot, for the hopper, the night the team arrived at the competition, which the programmers did not find out about until the night before. It was programmed at the competition. The drivers got no practice time.

With this auspicious start, our team could not help but have a great first competition. One thing you must do at an FRC competition, after getting your robot unpacked, is have the robot's on-board radio re-imaged for the field. Until this is complete, and your robot is inspected, you can't do much. There were already a few teams in line before us, and they seemed to be having trouble.

"Did you update your firmware?" the technical assistant would ask.

"Yes," they replied confidently. Then they'd plug in their radio, enter their team number, and then watch as a large error dialog appeared. Three teams in a row did this, so when it was our turn I was a bit worried.

"Did you update your firmware?" The last update we'd done had been the last week of build season. I hadn't seen a notice of any new changes, but how could all of these other teams not have updated their radios in three weeks?

We plugged in our radio, entered our team number, and hit the "Configure" button. A progress bar appeared on the screen. A few seconds later our radio was successfully imaged. We took it back to the pits and plugged it into the robot.

I suppose at this point I should mention that this is the first year our team has used a co-processor for vision. It's a second computer with 192 GPU cores, and it can process two different camera feeds for different targets and stream video feeds and target information back over the network to our drivers. It's one of the programming team's several amazing achievements this season. We rely on this vision information to drive our robot, both autonomously and when we need extra precision under human control. After the radio was re-imaged, this vital co-processor disappeared from the network.

By that time it was getting late in the evening, and Miranda had only had a short nap on the ride out, so I had to leave so we could put her to bed. Back at the hotel, I provided tech support via text message. The core problem was somewhat obvious. With the router reconfigured, there was no longer anything providing DHCP on the network for the co-processor. All we needed to do was connect to it and set a static IP address. Fortunately, we had a second radio with us, still programmed for the build site. We plugged into that and tried to connect with SSH. "Connection refused."

We tried many variations. The co-processor was clearly on the network. We could ping it and it showed up on nmap scans, but SSH failed. With no solution, our team was kicked out of the pits so the school could close for the night.

I arrived the next morning to find two technical advisers and another team's mentor in our pits, watching over the shoulders of our programmers as they continued to try anything to connect to the missing device.

Unfortunately, they knew even less about our problem than we did. The mentor tracked down another router, in case ours was broken, but couldn't get it configured properly. He did have time to criticize our Arch Linux laptops, however, and suggest we should move to Ubuntu. The technical advisers asked us to try all of the things we'd already tried. One thing he said bugged me, though: "Port 22 is blocked on the field."

I remembered that three weeks ago we had installed the mandatory radio firmware update, and hadn't tested that system since. "Try re-imaging the radio without the firewall turned on," I told one of the programmers. Sure enough, once the firewall was disabled we were able to connect and set a static IP address. The robot was ready for action.

Throughout the day the robot performed well, with issues being mechanical and quickly fixed. Our driver, not trusting the autonomous gear scoring mechanism, had rammed the robot against a peg, sheering off several LEDs, damaging the camera mount, and bending the aluminum shaft that held it. We bent it back.

A piece of fuel got under the robot, tearing loose some wires. We reconnected them and added more electrical tape. Our robot was immobilized when the metal plate for the fuel pickup was bent downward, digging into the carpet. We cut it off with a jigsaw, and duct-taped over the rough metal edge.

With three more matches to go on the first day, our team set the robot up on the field, but signaled that they were not getting a camera feed. The robot did not move during autonomous, but quickly got back into the match once the player-controlled period began. Then things started going wrong on the field. Pieces that were supposed to move wouldn't. Pieces that were supposed to stop kept going. Signal lights turned off. The field-fault alarm sounded.

The teams reset their robots to try again, but the field couldn't be brought under control. Eventually the students on the field were told to leave. The robots were powered off. The volunteers at the event scurried around while the DJ played dance music to distract the thousands of teenagers.

As minutes stretched into hours, Miranda's bedtime arrived. We headed back to the hotel. Much later that evening the field was finally fixed. Our team had their match, and then the school closed for the night.

The next morning we were informed that because of the extraordinary delay, twelve matches had been eliminated. We had only four matches left to prove ourselves. We got off to a solid start with an early win. Our second match of that day boasted the highest score of the entire weekend, and our robot was directly responsible, because we managed to give the other team two hundred and twenty five penalty points.

As you may remember from previous years, our team likes to play defense, and they'd been moving to block other robots from getting to their retrieval zone when the driver lost control of the robot. It stopped moving, inside the retrieval zone, and nothing he could do would make it respond. Since interfering with robots in your opponent's zone is a penalty, the referee dutifully counted up all the times our robot was bumped by an opponent's bot.

Back in the pits the programmers were stumped. The program was clearly running, but none of the motors would move. "We're not seeing any traffic on the CAN bus", a college-age mentor said. "Could the CAN bus be out?" asked the head mentor. A second later one of the students noticed the loose wire dangling from the shooter motor. Once this wire was replaced, the robot sprang to life.

It was now our next to last match of the day. The drivers set the robot on the field, but the cameras were now so battered that they were crashing, and there was no camera feed. Being clever fellows, they lined up the robot anyhow and commanded it to drive forward far enough to smash into the airship. Remarkably this worked, and the gear the robot was holding was lifted up into the airship for sixty points. And then the driver-controlled period started. At least, it was supposed to be driver controlled.

The robot began spinning to the left. "HELLO COMRADE", the driver station announced. "WE CONTROL ROBOT FOR MOTHER RUSSIA". The drivers began freaking out. They called for a volunteer, signalling frantically. The robot stopped spinning, then began spinning the other way. "WHO DESIGN CONTROLS??!? WE CANNOT DRIVE THIS"

Finally the robot came to a stop. "YOU DRIVE". The main driver took control while our other driver dragged a volunteer over to investigate. By then the alert messages had disappeared from the screen. A few seconds later the robot announced "HAVE A NICE DAY COMRADE". The volunteer snapped a picture of the strange pronouncement.

Now, I suppose at this point I should let you in on something of which the team was unaware. During the times they'd been leaving the programming laptop unattended in the pits, I'd added two lines of code to the robot's base class. Kelly and I watched from the stands, laughing maniacally as the drivers fought with their suddenly disobedient robot.

The excitement in the pits was palpable. "We've been hacked!" The only trace of this "hack" was a line in the log that read "Russian Hacking Attempt Detected", so I made them grep for that text. Sure enough, they discovered that a file had mysteriously been added to their project. One programmer threatened to kill whoever had added that file. The other, being slightly calmer, began to make the connection. "You did this," he accused me. "Why?"

"Because it was awesome," was my reply. As word got around that the Russians had not, in fact, taken control of our robot, the team calmed down. I explained to them the importance of checking their changes before deploying them. The programmers removed the offending lines and sent the robot back out to the field for its final match.

This time the camera was working as expected, and they lined up for the peg, ready to show their superiority. Then the match began. The second light ring on the front of the robot switched on, reflecting off the airship and drowning out their vision target. Once again, the robot sat motionless during the autonomous period. They finished the tournament in seventeenth position, slightly above the halfway point for thirty-six teams.

Now it was time for alliance selections, and being seventeenth meant they had no hope of being an alliance captain. They needed another team to select them. The first round of selections went by, and our team remained on the sidelines. In the second round they were selected by the third seeded alliance, who had done some fantastic scouting. Rather than pick teams based on rank, they selected teams that had slow starts but had improved throughout the tournament. Our alliance stormed through the quarterfinals and semifinals without a loss.

In the finals we faced the fourth-seeded alliance, and our team had fallen into the role they most love: defense. Our robot set up in the narrow passage to the opponent's feeder slot, but far enough outside it to not be penalized, and blocked any robot trying to pass. This strategy worked flawlessly the first match and we won 285 to 195. The second match was much like the first, but one of our teammates did not climb, and the match ended with a tie. In the third match our alliance decided to step up defense, which proved to be a poor decision, as this undercut our offensive abilities too much and was largely ineffective, resulting in a 215 to 305 loss.

Our team prepared for their unanticipated fourth finals match. It started off poorly, when our autonomous gear scoring teammate failed to move, costing our alliance twenty-five points. However, the rest of the match was played evenly, and with thirty seconds to go our alliance was only down by five points. It would come down to which team could get the most robots in the air. Unfortunately, our robot's camera to see the climbing rope had long ago failed, and our driver spun in circles, trying desperately to get the rope to attach. On the other side, all three robots headed into the air. Then, one of their ropes came loose, leaving that robot stranded on the floor. If we could climb the rope, our alliance would be the champions.

With barely any time remaining, the driver finally managed to connect to the rope and begin climbing, but it looked like it might be too late. As the clock counted down, the robot climbed up. Everyone watched our robot in anticipation. There was one second remaining, and the robot was inches from the top, when suddenly our rope snapped, sending our robot, and our alliance's hope of victory, plummeting to the floor.

Oh well, another silver metal isn't that bad.

Colors

2017-02-17T16:19:00-05:00

The parents don't play fair. Just the other day I discovered that they've been holding out on me. Here's what happened. A friend came over to play and mommy gave him pages with pictures but no colors on them. Then she gave him some sticks and suddenly there was color!

These sticks are the most amazing things ever! I demanded mommy give me one of them, and immediately put it to use. I spent hours putting color on every picture mommy gave me. I even put color on some pages that didn't have pictures. It was great.

Being the innovator that I am, I quickly realized that mommy had not even begun to grasp the potential of these magic color sticks. I gathered a few and hurried off to a secluded area where I could focus on my art. Fortunately, there are many large surfaces perfectly suited for coloring in the house. Unfortunately, like so many great artists who have gone before, it seems that I must suffer for my art.

Now mommy counts all of my color sticks and makes sure that I don't have any on my person before she releases me from my chair. Who knew the parents had such a hatred for art?

Eulogy

2017-02-08T07:57:00-05:00

Steve was the type of man that our modern age believes extinct. He was an old man at forty-nine, grizzled and rough. Most respectable people shied away from him. He wore an old coat, drove a van that couldn't pass inspection, and had a big beard that would have been white if it hadn't been stained yellow by cigarette smoke.

Steve worked for minimum wage, doing landscaping for people better off than himself. He'd been paid more before he took the company truck out after he'd been drinking. Now he was just grateful to have a job. His wife had kicked him out, so his boss let him live in a small shack by the company office, which was an improvement over living in his van. He had no hope for advancement. He was dirt poor and illiterate. The person he cared about most, his granddaughter, wouldn't talk to him. He was a man who had fallen through the cracks of our society.

Steve had gone to church, but he never fit in among the suit-wearing crowd. They were nice enough, but he knew he didn't belong. His life was too checkered to past muster. His theology was a mashup of ideas he'd picked up from various questionable sources. Steve believed that God created life on the outer planets, wiping out each one as it became too wicked, and now it was Earth's turn. He didn't get all the big words the church-people used, but he liked to listen to Christian music. His favorite band was Skillet.

Yet to the few people who really got to know Steve, he was amazing. He was a craftsman who loved nothing more than turning scraps of wood into masterpieces. He volunteered his ample free time to build sets for local plays. Despite everything that had been done to him, Steve had a heart of gold. He was eager to help anyone, even those who hurt him. While Steve might not have known how to read, he was a force to be reckoned with at the checkerboard. No matter who he played, he'd find their weakness and end up with the last checker every time.

Steve died of a brain aneurysm the day after Thanksgiving, and to most people his life was the example they tell their children to avoid. It's true, he made poor choices and gained little in this world. Yet something in Steve was so winsome that it really makes me question whether he didn't know something the rest of us miss. Farewell Steve. You are missed.

Slander

2017-01-26T10:57:00-05:00

I have put up many frustrations from the parents. I've come to accept it as my lot in life, and try not to be too bothered by it. But when other babies start making accusations about me, I feel I must defend my honor.

For those who haven't heard these patently false allegations, I apologize for bringing these dreadful attacks to your attention. I encourage you to stop reading right now and continue with your day as though nothing had happened.

If you are still reading then I presume that you have heard these slanderous accusations and have come to me seeking the truth, which I am only too happy to provide. Let's cut right to the chase. I know there have been some whispers that I am not a baby, but am instead (please pardon my language) a "toddler". I assure you nothing could be further from the truth.

While it's true that I may be a bit bigger than some of the babies these days, nothing has changed. I may be able to walk and use the parents' language, but I am still fully committed to the mission of turning these rather miserable parents into properly grand parents. Do not listen to the rumors, my fellow babies.

The Hospital

2017-01-23T10:31:00-05:00

Once there was a hospital with an amazing doctor who could heal any injury or disease. People traveled great distances to be seen by her.

One day some patients met together in the halls of the hospital and began to talk, as patients do, of their treatments.

"The doctor is quite alright, I guess," said the man with the broken leg, "but she keeps insisting that I don't put weight on my leg for six weeks. Doesn't that seem excessive to you?"

"Absolutely," said the man with the rare blood disorder. "What's worse, she keeps prying into my personal history, asking about my parents and the environment I grew up in. What business is that of hers?"

"Frightful," said the obese woman. "Do you know she had the audacity to tell the nurses to stop bringing me the fried food I requested?"

"No!" said another woman, who tried to tell of her plight but was overcome with a fit of coughing.

"That's nothing," said the man with appendicitis. "She wants to cut me open!"

The patients all agreed that the hospital was in a dreadful state and decided they should do something. They raided the supply closets for white lab coats and stethoscopes, then set about to fix the hospital's problems.

The man with the broken leg made it his mission to fit casts to the legs of anyone who would hold still long enough, while the woman with the coughing fits followed behind handing out cough syrup.

The man with the rare blood disorder visited each patient's room, spreading the news of his journey from being a patient to a doctor, and telling everyone where they could find their own white coats and stethoscopes. He was joined by the man with appendicitis, who taught the patients that while the doctor's emphasis on health was excellent, her more radical suggestions were not in step with modern thought, and what really mattered was that they foster a mindset of "healthfulness".

The obese woman took it upon herself to visit the sick in the waiting room and refer them to her fellow patients for treatment.

If you visit the hospital today, you will be met by thousands of patients in white lab coats, each claiming to be perfectly healthy and offering you a similar cure. They will lead you in a reading of the Hippocratic Oath that they have reconstructed from memory and give you your own white lab coat and stethoscope.

Rumor has it that the doctor is still somewhere in the hospital, but no patients have seen her in years.

The Entirely True History of the Fluffernutter

2017-01-20T15:46:00-05:00

I have endeavored to keep this website free from the confessional gushing that makes up so much of social media. Yet I have a fantastic personal tale which must be chronicled for the benefit of mankind. You may not believe it, and that is your privilege, but here is the story of how I accidentally invented the Fluffernutter.

I was around ten years old at the time and in elementary school. My family was not wealthy, but as a special treat every Friday my parents would give me eighty-five cents to buy pizza from the cafeteria. The rest of the week my lunch came to school with me, in a lunchbox, and it always included a peanut butter sandwich.

I can't recall a time when I did not prepare my own lunch, and peanut butter sandwiches were easy: get two slices of bread, put a big glob of peanut button on one, spread some butter or margarine on the other, and press together. Some of you are probably wondering about the butter, and the truth is I have no idea why I did that. It was just how I knew to make a sandwich and I never stopped to consider the source of this knowledge or its nutritional ramifications.

My mother had her own thoughts on nutrition, and while she had no problem with my daily ingestion of toxic levels of trans fats, she did have a problem with companies using annatto to give butter and margarine a yellowish tint. Somehow she found some unmolested butter, like she'd had growing up. This made little difference to me. It still made a peanut butter sandwich just fine.

It may come as a shock to those in the audience, but being an overweight know-it-all who wore hand-me-down clothing (without having an older sibling, I should add) did not elevate my social status within elementary school society. I sat near the cool boys who could play sports and say dirty words when the teachers were away, but I knew, and they knew, that I was not one of them.

The coolest of the cool boys was named Bryce. He always got picked first for kickball, and never packed his lunch. He noticed me eating my peanut butter sandwich with snow-white annatto-free butter and was intrigued. "Is that marshmallow?" he asked?

I should point at that I had never heard of marshmallow cream, and I could see no way that anyone could confuse butter with the fluffy cylinders of sugar that I roasted over a campfire in the summer. It was probably some cool kid joke that I wasn't cool enough to understand. So, with the dry sarcasm that served me so well, I responded "Yes, it's marshmallow.

Needless to say, this short exchange changed Bryce's life. Even in high school he would still fondly recall how I had introduced him to the Fluffernutter, and since the coolest boy in school was eating them, they soon became a sensation all across the fourth grade.

I realize that some people may credit the discovery of the Fluffernutter to other times and places, but as far as my elementary school is concerned, I am its inventor.

Parental Incompetence

2017-01-18T12:15:00-05:00

As you all no doubt recall, I've never been a fan of the parents' diaper scam. Not only is it shady, but it can become quite uncomfortable. Naturally you can imagine my delight at discovering a way out of this unpleasant situation.

But first, a slight digression. The parents' one redeeming quality is their tendency to take me on car rides. I quite appreciate these outings. It's good to explore outside the house. I must write about these adventures later, but suffice it to say that I have, not to brag, spent quite a lot of time in my car seat.

The ride itself is restful, but sometimes I just don't feel like taking a nap. It's times like these that my focus turns to the oddly named "boots" that the parents insist of affixing to my feet when we leave the house. As I was examining them one car ride I noticed that applying pressure to the top of the boot resulted in a pleasant ripping sound. With a bit more pressure I was able to completely disconnect the strap that held the boot in place. I happily removed that boot, tossed it down beside the car seat, and turned my attention to the other, which responded to the like treatment.

It turns out that the diapers are attached using the same sort of magical bonding agent! Also, like the boots, if the parents are around they object strenuously if I activate said bonding agent. Fortunately, it is not difficult to find moments when their attentions are otherwise occupied. Soon the diaper was gone and glorious comfort and freedom were mine.

I wish I could end the story here, a simple story of a baby triumphing over injustice, but sadly, even the most noble of causes can be frustrated by the parents. In fact, I think their shock at my frustration of their scam has caused their intelligence to descend even further. Now they can't seem to remember how to use a diaper at all.

The other night, once the parents were safely out of sight, I prepared another masterful escape, only to find that my idiot parents had somehow managed to put the diaper on backwards! I couldn't even reach the straps that could release me from my bonds. Of course, one becomes used to the parents making horrible errors, but it keeps happening. Anyone want some parents? I'm thinking I'll put them up for adoption.

Optimizing

2016-12-28T07:02:00-05:00

Before I begin, I'd like to thank all my fans. It's babies like you that help me carry on when faced with the sheer incompetence of the parents. I don't know how I'd have made it through the year without you.

I know it comes as no surprise that the parents have some unique quirks, and if I took time to document them all I'd never get anything else done, but have you noticed the way they eat? They put their food on tiny round trays that aren't even attached to their chairs, and then, rather than put food in their mouths with their hands like any civilized person, they poke at it with funny-shaped sticks, and whatever doesn't fall off they eat. It amuses me that they can be so slow and never realize their error. Seriously, did they forget they have fingers?

Of course, were this just another of their weird habits I would have let it slide, but now they're trying to force me to play their game. Don't get me wrong, I love playing with toys while I eat as much as the next baby, but they want me to use their sticks for every single bite. In fact, if I try to touch the food like a normal person, they stop me! I swear, I should never have started learning their language. Now they think I want to be just like them!

Foreign Tongues

2016-11-22T11:26:00-05:00

I never thought I'd say this, but I've been learning a lot from the parents recently. I had been puzzled by their language for some time, but I recently had a major breakthrough: when parents say something, what they actually mean is the exact opposite. I needed to share this insight with my audience, in the hopes that it will help other babies who have difficult parents.

I have compiled a simple lexicon that should help illuminate the parental tongue:

"No" - Keep doing what you're doing as soon as we look away
"No No No No!" - We really enjoy that. Do it a few more times and we'll give you a ride around the house.
"Don't touch that" - Take every opportunity to touch that.
"Leave that on the table" - Remove everything from the table.
"Come here" - Run away.
"Go to your room" - Visit every room in the house but your room.
"Clean up" - Start playing with the toys on the floor.
"Give that to me" - Eat that.

I feel confident that I will soon have finally mastered the parents' language.

A Growing Problem

2016-09-27T15:05:00-04:00

Normally I like to restrict my advice to the parents, since they so desperately need it, but that does not mean that I am unaware of the failings of my own kind. No, I am always vigilant. Even virtuous beings like us babies can still have room for improvement (though we're certainly way ahead of the parents), and that is what I would like to address today.

There is a disturbing trend in babies, and I must confront it before it goes too far. There's no easy way to put it, so I'll just come out and say it: Babies are getting too small. When I first started my career as a baby, all babies were around the same size. There was some variety, but it was pretty evenly distributed. However, small is now in fashion, and it seems like every baby I meet is tiny. I'm not questioning any baby's individual right to choose to be small. That's a personal decision. But it has become a fashion, and it's getting out of hand.

I can certainly understand not wanting to be big like the parents. Obviously, whatever we can do to separate ourselves from them is a good idea, but think about what you're doing. If this trend keeps up, eventually us current babies will seem as big as the parents by comparison! Would you really want to do that to your fellow babies?

So please, before you decide that you want to be the smallest baby ever, stop and think. If we all stand together we are stronger than when every new baby thinks it has to out-small the rest of us.

Blurred Vision

2016-09-16T11:53:00-04:00

As you know, I am not one to criticize the parents. The way I see it, they really can't be held responsible for their actions. So don't take this as me being unkind in any way. It's just that Mommy and Daddy really are complete idiots.

Recently I've been going through the trouble to start learning their language, or what passes for language among parentkind. What a waste of time that has been! Now that I can understand their words they seem more helpless than ever.

They're constantly losing things, and asking me to find them. A few things I can understand. "Where's the ball?" "Where's your bottle?" - I get it. There's a lot of things in this house. It's certainly possible to lose something. The problem is that the things they lose are usually right in front of them!

Not only that, but when I show them where something is, they forget about it almost instantly. They'll ask "Where's the circle?" and ten seconds after I've pointed it out to them they'll ask the same thing again! I've heard about how bad the attention span of parents can be, but I'm pretty sure Mommy and Daddy are setting a new record.

And that's still not the worst of it. Sometimes they can't even find themselves! "Where's Mommy?" Really? You're standing right in front of me! "Where's Miranda?" Okay, this is just sad.

You might think at this point that they obviously have some sort of disability, but the sad part is that it's entirely self-imposed. Mommy and Daddy are constantly wearing these odd windows on their faces. From a distance they look like any other windows, but occasionally Mommy and Daddy will put them on my face, and make a big deal out of it. Apparently they think it's hilarious.

Anyhow, these windows make everything blurry! No wonder the parents can't find anything! And yet they insist on wearing them all the time. I've tried to take them away, but they just grab them and put them back on their faces.

At this point, I'm sure there is no hope for them. They are beyond even my help.

Lateral Thinking

2016-09-08T08:26:00-04:00

In tenth grade I had to take a course to prepare for the workforce. The class included interviewing a person in my career of interest, doing mock job interviews, and even some creative writing and public speaking.

One day the teacher told us we were going to do lateral thinking problems. As it turned out, lateral thinking was just another term for trick questions. They were designed to test if I could answer questions without making unwarranted assumptions.

Here's an example: A man is walking down a country road that has no street lights. He is wearing black clothes and not carrying a flashlight. A black car with it's headlights off comes speeding around the corner just in front of the man. It screeches to a stop, narrowly avoiding running the man over. How did the driver of the car see the man in the road?

You can have a lot of fun imagining possible answers. At that time cars didn't have collision sensors, so let's assume the car is old and it's up to the driver to stop. It's possible the walker was carrying some light other than a flashlight, like a cell phone, a headlamp, or glow sticks. Perhaps the driver was wearing night-vision goggles. Maybe it was just a coincidence.

As it turns out, none of these ingenious solutions is necessary. Nowhere in the problem does it state that it is dark. Check it out for yourself. Since lights are mentioned several times, the mind makes that assumption, but it's not in the question.

This test still counts as one of the proudest moments of my life. I don't think any of my classmates answered more than fifty percent of them correctly, but I only missed one.

You see, my brain is terrible at handling assumptions. That can be very helpful in programming and, to a lesser extent, business, but it's a major liability in personal interaction. Allow me to demonstrate.

People often ask me questions. I'm good at answering them, provided they're factual. If they're not factual my brain will change them until they are. This is especially a problem with "How" questions. Not all "How" questions, mind you. Some just want you to describe a step-by-step process, such as "How do you download an email attachment?" or "How did you get up in that tree?" Those my brain handles just fine. It's the other "How" questions.

Often when people ask how, it seems like they're asking for a description. "How does the fish taste?" It seems innocent enough, but it's a trap. "It tastes like a fish" is the wrong answer. So is "It can't. It's dead." What people actually want is not a description, but a judgment. Intellectually I understand that, and yet my brain says, "Who am I to judge whether a fish is good or bad?"

This gets even more confusing with "How" greetings. "How are you?" doesn't mean "What conditions led to you existing?" even though that's what my brain hears. And since I can't reliably judge a fish, I definitely don't have enough information to judge my own condition. Of all the people on earth I am singularly unqualified to that task. So my brain gets a bit stuck.

Over time I have divined that the preferred answer is "Good, how are you?" Even "Hi" seems to be acceptable, though I have no understanding of how that is related. Just whatever you do, don't try to answer the question literally. No one wants to know that.

Memory Lane

2016-08-18T08:36:00-04:00

I was uploading a Miranda video this week when I stumbled across some old videos that YouTube had been saving. For your amusement, I present Stuffed Carnage: The Complete Collection:

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bMjrPvPTokQ&list=PLD9QSYWzVFY0IgUaF7L9NRk36ohd7bQxE[/embed]

I must apologize to our readers in Canada and Germany, since some of these videos are blocked in those countries. Or perhaps I should be apologizing to the countries where they aren't blocked. You decide.

A Friend Indeed

2016-08-12T10:20:00-04:00

I saw this disheartening headline the other day: "Only Half of Friendships are Mutual, Researchers Find". If you're someone like myself, who feels they don't have many friends, the take away is that other people don't have that many friends either. At least, not as many as they think. In fact, if you break down the numbers, you have fewer "fake friends" than them.

I propose that we introverts hold a party to celebrate! We can all stand against the wall and avoid making eye contact.

Getting a Leg Up

2016-07-19T10:35:00-04:00

There are many advantages to being me, yet the parents have held one virtue hostage: height. It wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the parents' carelessness. For example, when they accidentally happen place something out of my reach, which they do with frustrating regularity.

In the past I have been reduced to pointing and trying to make them understand their error, but, as you are only too aware, making the parents see sense is a losing battle. Fortunately, I have found a way to take the high ground in this situation. Literally.

By positioning myself atop objects I can make myself arbitrarily tall. The best part is, if a surface is too high to reach directly, a simple application of logic allows me to bring it to my level. For example, suppose that Mommy has careless left the phone on the back of the couch where it's too high for me to reach. The seat of the couch is too high for me to climb onto directly. What am I to do? I simply grab my chair, push it to the couch, climb into the chair, from there onto the couch, and just like that I have the phone, no parents required.

Naturally, this strategy works with any height. Chairs and boxes can easily be moved to new locations, and even carried to higher heights, if a direct path is not available. If you do try this strategy at home, make sure to do it quietly when the parents are not around. I have faced multiple occasions when the parents, for reasons only they know, removed an important part of my path, or even took me to another room.

Once you have reached the object you desire, there are multiple ways to get back down. If the height is not too great, I prefer the head-first method. It is direct and quick. For larger heights, the best option is to whine loudly until a parent comes and places you back on the floor.

Hermaneutics

2016-07-01T09:10:00-04:00

The crowds were noticeably increased the week before Passover. A destitute widow slowly worked her way through the commotion to drop two copper coins into one of the temple's collection boxes. Jesus called out to his followers: "Look at that widow! Most of these people are only giving a small percentage of their money, but she gave one-hundred percent. Everyone should be more like her. Then we could finally add on that new wing, replace the carpet in the sanctuary, and hire a full-time childcare coordinator."

Jesus called out to his followers: "Look at that widow! Giving money to the very people who are plotting to kill us! She and all the rest of those sinners will burn in hell!"

Jesus called out to his followers: "Look at that widow! Another stupid sheeple, blindly following the religious establishment. Wake up! Fight the system!"

Jesus called out to his followers: "Look at that widow! Putting money into the temple when it is already scheduled for destruction. She should be giving that money to my ministry instead."

Jesus didn't say anything to his followers, because drawing attention to the poor is rude.

Jesus called out to his followers: "Look at that widow! Here's a perfect example of injustice. She is going to starve herself to support the lavish lifestyle of self-righteous religious leaders, because they told her it's God's will."

Jesus called out to his followers: "Hey Judas, that woman just gave away all her dinner money. Go give her a few bucks and a tract."

Jesus is too busy talking to his followers about their big outreach project to notice the widow shuffling by.

Hand Holding

2016-06-20T20:34:00-04:00

The challenges of working with parents are greatly compounded by their inability to follow even the simplest directions. When I want them to go one way they invariably go the other. I had almost accepted this as insurmountable until a recent development opened up the possibility of change. I have discovered that if I grab the parents by the fingers I can drag them anywhere in the house. The key is to lean your weight forward and tug. Every time you gain an inch, plant your feet and repeat the process. In no time you'll have pulled the parents to any room, no conversation required.

One important thing to note is that this process can be done in steps. For example, if I want to go to my toys, I can drag a parent over to the toy, release them, grab the toy, and then resume leading the parent to another room. If your parent loses focus and begins to wander away, whine and grab its leg. That works every time.

Going Native

2016-05-31T14:38:00-04:00

I'm starting to fear all my time with the parents is having an effect on me. I know, how could someone like me ever be influenced by the likes of them? Still I wonder...

Sometimes I swear they can communicate. Mostly they just babble after their normal fashion, but there are moments when one of them will make noises and the other will perform an action, or one parent will point at something and make the same noise over and over. Odder still, they make those same noises later and act as if I should understand. Worse than that, sometimes I almost think I can. It's as if they're trying to talk. Am I sinking to their level?

Property Rights

2016-05-02T08:22:00-04:00

Hello my adoring public. I haven't said much recently, but there's a good reason. You know that I always try to keep things positive, and the truth is there's been little positive happening with the parents lately. I feel like they're regressing instead of progressing.

I've been quite busy over the past month. Being naturally industrious, I have started collecting treasures around the house. This duty falls to me because the parents are, simply put, terrible at such things. Not only are they very poor observers, but their eyes are so ridiculously far from the floor that they couldn't possibly hope to see anything of value. Realizing their frailty, I have taken it upon myself.

I try to be generous and share some of what I find, but the parents are becoming increasingly vexing. It seems as though every time I find some new treasure, a parent swoops in and steals it. They don't even ask. They just grab it away. If I try to keep it for myself, they actually physically pry it from my hands. And then they act as though somehow I'm the one being bad.

I don't know where I went wrong with them.

Search by State the CiviCRM Way

2016-04-19T08:50:00-04:00

I don't normally write about work, because it's generally both boring and privileged. However, I think this warrants an exception. Enjoy.

The ticket came in as follows:

The following member is in The Netherlands, but is coming up in the Utah state search.

C----- P------
owner, garden designer
Z-------- 94
hoogland, UT 3828GE Netherlands
http://www.-----------.com
View Member Profile

A quick glance told me all I needed to know. The text-based abbreviation match was being too greedy. It was my chance to redo the member search the Right Way™.

The website having this problem is built around the CiviCRM platform, which manages all of its members and handles billing. CiviCRM was chosen, mainly, because it is free. However, after being forced to work on it, I think the cost is still too great.

That being said, a search for all members in a state should be simple. CiviCRM provides an API for accessing its data. In addition to that, it provides a developer tool to generate and preview queries against that API. Armed with these, I set to work.

Members are stored as Contacts, so I opened up the API explorer to see what was available. I wanted to make a list of all states and associated countries that had members. Fortunately, each state has a unique numeric ID, so I could use that instead of matching abbreviations like the current search did.

I checked the explorer and was delighted to find that it provided state_province_id, state_province_name, and country for Contacts. This wouldn't be as hard as I had expected. I created a query to search for those fields on all Contacts who were in the Searchable group. Unfortunately, the explorer generated an invalid query using the group's name instead of its ID, so when I ran the query it exploded. I had run into this issue before and already knew the ID, so I copied the query into the search code and replaced the group name with the ID.

I wrote a loop to go through the returned Contacts and make a list of countries with their associated states, then used that list in a drop-down in the search form. I saved my changes and loaded the form. The drop-down showed countries, but there were no states.

Perplexed, I dumped the list of countries I had made, hoping to find my mistake, but it only had countries too. I dumped the result I had gotten from the API. Notably missing from the results were state_province_id and state_province_name. I went to the API explorer, removed the Group, and ran my query on all Contacts. There, as well, the fields I had requested were missing. I undid my changes and started from scratch.

I noticed that while the query did not return the fields I had asked for, it did return one I had not: address_id. I reasoned that I could use this field, along with a MySQL query, to find the states' names and IDs. I created a new API query asking for the address_id of Contacts. Having learned my lesson from the last time, I ran the query in the explorer without a group. The results did not include address_id.

Okay, I had seen address_id in my results before, so I knew it could be returned. It must only appear as a side-effect of one of the other fields, I reasoned. I created queries asking for country, state_province_id, and state_province_name, but address_id was not returned for any of them. Finally, I made a query asking for all three together. address_id appeared in the results. I counted it as a victory.

I made a MySQL query using these IDs in a massive IN clause. The query selected state name, ID, and country. Using the results of that query, I re-created my list of countries and added them to the drop-down input.

Of course, that was only half of the equation. The drop-down showed all of the states, but I needed to find all members that matched the chosen state. Fortunately, the API allowed me to limit queries based on state_province_id. I verified it in the API explorer before writing the code. I passed it the selected state ID and the API spit back all relevant Contacts.

I added the code to the search and tested with a few states. Everything worked perfectly. I was on the verge of declaring the search fixed when I tried "Tiranë, Albania". The result was a blank page. Oh no, a dreaded encoding error. But how? I was only passing numbers. The umlaut couldn't be responsible. Was it countries other than the US? I tried some provinces of Canada, but they worked correctly. Could it be countries that only have one province listed? (Albania was the only one like that.) I searched for "London, United Kingdom." Another blank screen.

I enabled PHP's error messages, and refreshed. "CiviCRM_API3_Exception: 1537 is not a valid value for state_province_id" I resisted the urge to jump out the window. The ID was correct. I had gotten it from the API only seconds earlier. But some internal filter was rejecting it. I sat and planned how I would get around this ridiculous situation.

Could I search by country and then match the state abbreviation? That should be unique, right? I tried a search on country, and noticed that it included state_province_id, even though I wasn't asking for it. An idea crept into my head. I added a try/catch block around the first API query, and inside the catch block I ran a second query that searched on country_id instead of state_province_id. I then looped over those Contacts and collected any whose state_province_id matched the search value. Unfortunately, my search drop-down was not giving me country IDs, because state_province_id was already unique. I updated my select to give values that included both country and state ID.

I tested the trouble states again, and this time they returned sensible results instead of a blank screen. The state search was working perfectly, and any internet user who happened to want to search for members by state would never know the pain and misery hidden behind that "Go" button.

What Shall We Do?

2016-04-15T17:04:00-04:00

Peter explained, with an eloquence he had never before possessed, how the prophecies of David ((Psalms 110:1)) had finally been fulfilled by his Rabbi, Jesus. The songs they sang in their homes had come true in a way no one had expected. Jesus was not only risen but exalted, and from God's right hand he poured out his own spirit on his disciples ((Acts 2:33)). The day's great religious festival ((Acts 2:1)) was forgotten as the crowd of worshipers listened eagerly to this new revelation.

Yet against the backdrop of God's marvelous plan was the evil of the people God has chosen. They had taken their last hope, their rightful Lord, the one chosen by God, and crucified him. ((Acts 2:36)) The listening crowd could not help realizing that perhaps they had destroyed what their nation had waited centuries to see. Were they to be excluded from God's promise? They had to know. Men and women raced forward to find if they still had a place in God's plan ((Acts 2:37)).

Peter was amazed. He had seen the religious throng in the temple as an enemy, but so many were responding to the message of Jesus. His tone changed, no longer telling a hard truth to a disobedient people, but offering comfort to heartbroken sinners.

"It is not too late! Even now you can turn from your headlong flight into oblivion. Instead, be baptized into the name of Jesus, and he will forgive you and you will also have access to his spirit ((Acts 2:38))."

Peter and the disciples continued to teach the crowd for hours, and many began to follow Jesus that day. ((Acts 2:41)) They would not fall under the judgment that hung over their generation. ((Acts 2:40))

Stronghold - Westtown

2016-04-05T13:28:00-04:00

The Krypton Cougars arrived at their second competition with only one obstacle standing between them and total domination: themselves. The new pickup system (also known as the old shooter) had been designed without measuring if a ball sitting on the floor would touch the intake wheels. Testing revealed that the new metal base-plate would hit the ball first, knocking the ball away repeatedly. After much deliberation, and a sometimes contentious discussion about what shape the cut should be, the team decided to cut off an inch from the front.

With their robot now even more unstoppable than before, they had it weighed and inspected. Once their radio was configured to be plugged into the field, they got in line for their first practice match. Finally they reached the front of the line, eager to test their new design. "Sorry guys, that's all the matches we have time for tonight."

Undeterred, they returned the next morning and stood in line again. When they finally played their long-awaited match, the new arms performed as anticipated, getting hit early in the match, bending the shooter and causing significant damage to the robot. Back in the pits, the team decided that making the same mistake a second time wasn't quite enough. They removed the angled intake bars from the aluminum arms, leaving only two short tusks in front. Since each tusk was one-inch-square, the pickup mechanism's width was now approximately the same as the ball, making collecting a ball from the field nearly impossible. The team saw that their pickup design was good and took the robot to the practice field to see how great their shooter was.

The team stood, waiting by the field as team after team tested their robots. "Where are we on the list?"

"List?"

"Yeah, the list where you sign up for a time slot to test your robot. You did sign up for that?"

"Oh." The team reserved for a time slot and eventually tested their shooter. They scored two high goals, out of dozens of attempts, and their joy was beyond containing as they shouted for joy while the other teams stood silently for the national anthem.

Practice time was over and the main event began. In their first match, the Krypton Cougars got off to a great start, easily clearing the defense in front of them, and slamming full-speed into their opponent's wall, an effective, if unplanned, intimidation technique. Delighted, the team scurried into line for their second match.

The second match was equally successful, with another intimidating autonomous, until a head-on collision with an opposing robot sheered through two aluminum brackets like they were tissue paper, leaving the shooter hanging by its wires. Without enough time to fix the brackets before their next match, the team used bungee cords to strap the shooter to the robot and went back on the field. Unfortunately, they neglected to strap down the duct-taped-on limit switch, and left it laying on the field like a deceased orange long-tailed rat.

Their next match wasn't until after lunch. They worked feverishly to make new brackets (They hadn't brought replacement parts). Far too quickly lunch was over, and matches resumed. Their match approached and the team continued reattaching the parts they had disconnected. The match before theirs began, and the team still hadn't finished. Duct tape and zip ties flew as the team strapped down every loose piece they could find. It was time for their match to start, and the team deployed code to the robot as it rolled towards the field.

When officials finally made them stop working on the robot, it drove well and the shooter worked, mostly. After the match, the team found that the limit switch had come unsoldered again. They re-soldered it, but then the arm would only move down, until it reached the bottom switch, at which point it wouldn't move at all. The team checked the top limit switch, but it wasn't closed. Figuring it had short-circuited, they removed it entirely, but the arm still didn't move. Closer inspection revealed solder between the solder pads, creating a tiny short-circuit. The team melted the solder off the pads, but didn't have time to attach the limit switch before the next match.

Having now unsuccessfully soldered the limit switch three times, the team decided to rotate the gearbox so they could see what they were doing. After loosening the belts and disconnecting the output shafts, they rotated the gearbox until the solder pads were on top. Now able to actually see what they were soldering, the limit switch attachment was successful.

The team celebrated with cookies, which they took to the track field behind the high school. There was a large pole-vaulting mat on the field, with yellow warning labels on every side indicating it should not be stood on while covered. The team jumped on it happily and talked about how there was nothing that could be done to make their robot any more perfect than it already was.

In its next match the robot did not cross the defense in autonomous, and the drivers received a yellow card for being on the field when it wasn't safe. Back in the pits, the team realized they had no electricity. The battery charger was not charging batteries and the laptops were going to sleep. While event staff were summoned, the drivers complained that they had lost connectivity with the field, and hadn't been able to tell the robot which autonomous program to run. They decided to reboot the driver's station in the hopes it would correct the flaw.

It did not. After some deliberation, the programmers decided that rebooting right before a match would be better. That seemed to work, which was unfortunate, because the autonomous mode they chose was untested and the robot slammed its shooter into the low bar at full speed, rendering the shooter inoperable for the rest of the match. The team immediately took the robot to the practice field and tried to replicate that failure. Fortunately, mentors intervened and suggested that it might be worth testing without the obstacle until the issue was fixed. The programmers tweaked the code as their laptop batteries died, and deployed a fix for autonomous mode just before forced hibernation.

The robot performed well in its final match of the day. The team brought it back to the pits, excited at the great day they'd had. That's when someone pointed out that the top limit switch was beside the shooter instead of above it, negating its protective abilities, and allowing the shooter to slam repeatedly into the top of the robot.

The next morning the team returned to the field, ready to cap off their glorious performance. In the first match, the robot sat quietly during autonomous. Once the driver took over, he could only turn right. Halfway through the match he threw up his hands and walked away, leaving the robot on the field without an operator. A programmer took over and moved the arms up and down a few times, but the robot remained jammed between the field wall and a defense.

Fortunately, a friendly judge noticed their plight and helped them properly connect the driver station to their robot. In the next match the robot behaved in a more pleasing manner and left the field without any complications.

As the last match of the competition neared, the team decided they needed a grand finale to cement their position in the minds of other teams. They wished to leave no doubt that they should be chosen for the playoffs. Fortunately, they had just the thing. They prepped the robot to shoot a high goal. Considering that they weren't reliably hitting the goal on the ground it was a bit ambitious, but the team knew they needed a big finish. They started the match with the ball and drove down the field, positioning themselves eight feet in front of the goal. The carefully lined up the shooter, moving it up and down, and rotate the robot carefully into position. When they were sure it was perfect, they launched the ball.

With the tap of a button, the launcher sprang into action. The wheels spun and the ball flew upwards, spinning majestically under the fluorescent lights. It bounced harmless off the side of the goal and rolled away. The team parked their robot by the tower, with more than forty-five seconds remaining, and waited for the end. No one picked them for the playoffs.

Stronghold - Preview

2016-03-30T07:57:00-04:00

"Let's check the robot's camera feed."

Click. The robot blinks to life. Eric waits at the programming laptop for the wireless connection.

"Hey, this motor isn't plugged in."

Click. The robot goes dark. Thirty seconds pass.

"How are we supposed to check the camera without power?"

"Oh yeah. Eric, we turned off the robot."

"It's ridiculous how we have to relearn the same lessons every year. We should write down what went wrong and go over it at the beginning of next season."

"Connor, we did that this season, and look what happened."

"Oh yeah. But, like, the arm outside of the robot. Every year we have one and every year it gets broken. We even made this year's arm from quarter-inch steel, and it still got destroyed. We shouldn't be extending outside of the bumpers."

Twenty feet away, Tory and Gavin work feverishly to attach new aluminum arms to extend outside the bumpers.

"Gavin did a terrible job taping these wires. I can do better."

Connor grabs the scissors and cuts through the delicate encoder wires taped inside.

"Henry, that motor is already attached."

"What?" Henry asks, tugging it from the robot and snapping the data cable.

Roses

2016-03-24T09:31:00-04:00

When we bought our house there was a rose bush in the front yard. I'll call it was a bush, because I hear that's what roses come from, but it resembled a tree. It had a single stem that was about eleven feet high. It gave us a few of roses the first summer, and also scratched me every time I tried to mow near it.

I talked to other people about pruning it back, and they all agreed that was an excellent idea. It would help the plant produce more roses, instead of wasting so much energy on maintaining a ridiculously long stem. I was no gardener, so I was a bit reluctant to do the work myself, but I was a homeowner now and everyone told me "There's no way to over-trim a rose. They're very hardy plants." So, during the winter, I cut the stems to what I felt was a more reasonable length.

The plant hasn't produced a rose in three years.

Sign Language

2016-03-19T12:04:00-04:00

I've heard a theory that parents can learn sign language. In fact, that it's easier for them than spoken words. Seeing as I've had almost no luck teaching them to speak or understand proper words, I decided to give it a shot.

The trickiest part, so far, has been deciding what signs to teach them. I need to cover all the important concepts, but the parents aren't smart enough to handle many new things at once. I decided to start with a few simple signs that even a parent should comprehend.

One concept the parents have trouble with is knowing when I'm summoning them. To address this deficiency I created a simple gesture where I extend one hand and turn it so the palm is upward. I've been combining this with words as well, in the hopes they'll get the connection, and also because sometimes they aren't looking at me, if you can imagine such a thing. If they do not respond immediately, I open and close my fingers to indicate urgency.

Once they have been summoned, I need to convey additional information. For example, if they are to pick me up, I will extend both hands upwards. They're a bit slow on this one, so I am often forced to grab their hands and pull before they get the message. Still, I think they're making progress.

If I require food, I make an opening and closing motion with my mouth. Conveniently enough, this makes a popping noise which can be useful for getting the parents' attention, though it occasionally inspires them to mimic the sign. It can be hard to get them focused again after that.

If I want a toy that is out of my reach, I make a sign by extending my hand towards it and making a gripping motion. The parents are still a bit slow on this, and I am often reduced to getting the toy for myself. Even when they do notice the sign, they have a bad habit of retrieving the wrong toy. I have created a sign for this as well, where I place the toy in my hand and then wave my arm back and forth rapidly, releasing the toy at some point. Then I have to start from the beginning.

The final sign I've been trying to teach the parents is when I wish to be placed in my crib. At first I tried placing the back of my hand to my eyelids, but I think that was too subtle for them. Recently I've taken to adding an additional sign that they cannot ignore. I will extend both arms to the side and wave them rapidly all around. Time will tell if that's still too subtle.

Have any of you babies out there tried sign-language with your parents? What signs did you use, and how successful were your parents at picking them up?

Stronghold - Day 1

2016-03-17T16:13:00-04:00

The Krypton Cougars utilized a bold new strategy for this year's robotics competition, and arrived at the arena with a machine that was neither mechanically complete nor programmed. I wasn't in the arena the first evening and morning, with its flurry of activity, but I was kept in the loop via text message. The first problem brought to my attention was an old friend from previous seasons. Once our robot's radio was configured for use with the field, we could no longer connect to the robot from our laptops.

This doesn't seem to impact other teams. Perhaps they prepare their computer properly ahead of time, or maybe most teams just don't do much programming after their robot is configured to go on the field. It stood directly in the way of the Krypton Cougars's bold plan, however. In a stroke of brilliance, the team mounted a second radio on the robot, one for the field and another set up like we had at home. They stacked them, to make reading the signal lights as difficult as possible. Before each match, they would unplug one radio and plug in the other. After each match, they reversed the process. I'd like to say this arrangement didn't cause them any problems, but that would be very misleading.

Having solved their radio difficulties, they were free to complete their robot. While driving toward Philadelphia the morning of the competition, I received a text message informing me that the arm on the front of the robot could move up, but never down. After walking the programmers through common troubleshooting steps, I asked them to describe the blink pattern on the affected motor controller. They reported that when the arm wasn't moving it showed red lights, blinking in sequence: A limit switch was being triggered.

When the robot was designed, I hoped there would be limit switches at the top and bottom limits of the arms, both to avoid the arms moving beyond their expected range and to allow us to recalibrate the position periodically. The team had wired limit switches to the motor controllers, but attaching them to the robot had been left for some future date that never materialized. Instead, the limit switches were bundled up and dropped into the interior of the robot. The solder on one limit switch had been poorly applied, and the wires disconnected. Rather than fix the switch, the team tossed the loose wires in with the rest. Deep inside the belly of the robot, these wires had managed to cross, creating a short-circuit that was being read as a closed limit switch. Once these wires were separated, the arm moved downward with ease.

Kelly and I arrived at the high school shortly after noon. The parking lot was crowded, but we eventually found a space far from the school, where we unloaded our lifetime supply of baby gear and braved the bitter cold. Once Kelly and Miranda were safely in the arena, I headed for the pits.

By this time we had already had our first match, where our robot had put on a notable performance by spinning counterclockwise for the entire length of the match. While this had provided the spectators with much needed amusement, our team felt it was not a viable long-term strategy. There are many reasons why a robot might drive in a circle, but to continue doing so without input is rather unusual. We hypothesized it was caused by a sensor on the drive base not returning the correct speed. Rather than investigate the nature of the failure and correct it, we opted to turn off the sensors on the wheels and hope for the best.

This strategy was immediately successful. Without its sensors the robot drove in a straight line. Since the robot no longer knew its own speed, it went full force at all times, much like the students driving it. In fact, they were so excited by their new-found driving capabilities that they forgot the rules of the game and racked up twenty-five penalty points in their next match.

Up to this point in the competition, the robot's arms had been restrained with bungee cords until they could be tested. Spurred by their success, the team removed the bungee cords. During their next match, the shooter arm, now free of the bungee cords, ran into its own bumpers, ripping the shooter wheel sensor from its mount. The team decided they didn't really need a shooter wheel sensor anyway.

The next step was to fine-tune the motion of the arms. The pickup arm was too weak to lift the portcullis, so the programmers tried to increase its power. After a few changes, the robot stopped working entirely. The team frantically looked over the robot, testing every possibility. Network connectivity was good. The motors had power. The roboRIO was turned on. All the wires were still connected. Yet no commands were running on the robot. "What did you change?" asked a mentor in frustration.

"Nothing. Just numbers in the config file."

"How could that cause this?"

It couldn't, of course. The numbers only controlled the shooter system, yet all systems had stopped responding to controller input. Finally, after exhausting all other avenues, I asked the programmers to show me, rather than tell me, what they had changed, just in case, somehow, their configuration changes were responsible.

We worked through, line by line, until we came to a removed line:

#include "ControllerMap.h"

"Why did you remove that line," I asked in shock.

"We decided it didn't look right," they answered.

"Please put it back. It is what tells the program how to turn button presses and joystick movements into commands."

With the program back in working order, the team returned to the field to destroy more sensors. Within a few hours, all our sensors except the light sensor in the center of the robot were broken or disabled. Mechanical failures stacked up as the team drove with a reckless abandon better suited for the last match of the world championship instead of the first day of our first district competition.

Soon, though, the drive team reported a seemingly non-mechanical issue. "The arms aren't moving. We don't know why." The programmers pored over the code, but nothing seemed amiss. The drive base continued to work as normal, but the pickup and shooter system were unresponsive. When the programmers left to grab food, I picked up the driver station.

"Did no one notice that the second controller isn't showing up?" We tried unplugging it, plugging it into a different port, and even forcing a USB rescan, but the laptop continued to report that no second controller was present. The controller was dead. While a team mother rushed out to purchase a replacement controller, our team begged for a spare controller, and soon found a team willing to sacrifice a controller for the cause.

Reinvigorated, the team returned to the field. The robot, now nearly completely blind, was entirely dependent upon its drivers to keep it safe. The drivers, however, had other, more important considerations, and smashed the pickup arm into so many obstacles that it eventually broke free from the robot. Thrilled by their clever modification to the design, they decided they hadn't needed that either.

Cancer Captions

2016-03-15T16:40:00-04:00

Showbread recently released their final album, and with it, an experimental movie based on their previous album, Cancer. As expected, the movie is a bit of a head-scratcher. It takes a few viewings to pick up on what is going on (I still don't understand a lot of it, but I think that's the idea), and I imagine it would be even more confusing for those who don't already know the music.

Additionally, the movie's core characters make up a punk rock band that frequently screams their lyrics in unintelligible fervor, which makes things even less approachable for "outsiders". In the hope that I could show this movie to friends without having them miss the lyrics, I took some time to subtitle the movie. I'd like to make these captions available for others who are also interested in showing Cancer to the uninitiated.

I used FFmpeg to add the subtitle file to the movie. It is available for Mac, Linux, and Windows, though I only know that my instructions work on Linux. If you need to change something on another platforms, leave a comment about it and I'll update my instructions accordingly.

Download the caption file to the same directory as Cancer.
Go to that directory in your command line (terminal)
Run the following command:
```
ffmpeg -i Cancer.mp4 -f srt -i Cancer.srt -codec copy -c:s mov_text Cancer-subbed.mp4
```
(If your files have different names, make sure to update the command appropriately.)
When watching Cancer in your favorite media player, turn on captions.

And that's all there is. I hope this helps someone. Enjoy.

The Party

2016-02-20T18:26:00-05:00

I went to a party today with the parents. Normally the only place we go during the day is the store, so it was a nice change of pace. Mommy and Daddy dressed up in funny clothes. Daddy tied a big tag around his neck for me to pull. I think he should wear it more often. They put funny clothes on me too. I guess we're bonding.

I'm glad that the parents are socializing, but I have to admit I didn't really see the appeal. The music was boring, and everyone just stood around talking. In fact, it was so dull that one lady had fallen asleep in her crib. She was a really good sleeper. People kept going up and talking to her, but she never stirred. It's a good thing, too. Her crib was tiny. I don't know how she can roll around in it, but it was very nice. Much nicer than my crib, now that I think about it. I'll have to talk to the parents about correcting that.

Personal Space

2016-02-12T07:21:00-05:00

I have a circular toy bench. It has toys that light up and make noises, and toys I can bop and pull. Conveniently, there is a seat right in the center so I can reach all the toys. It's a great place to go when I need to get away from the parents for a while.

Unfortunately, Daddy can't keep his hands off my toys. He's always moving them around. If I pull the blocks off my alligator and throw them over the side, he puts them back. I've explained that he's covering up the pretty buttons, but he doesn't listen.

If I push the parrot around so it's standing on its head, Daddy will spin it back. If I knock the monkeys off the top of the arch, Daddy will push them back up. I feel like I spend half my time just undoing his behavior. I really need to have a conversation with him about personal property.

Topheth

2016-02-11T07:24:00-05:00

Have you ever gone outside the city gate and looked down on Ben Hinnom? Have you seen all the waste from the city that is thrown there? It is a noxious place, filled with worms and vermin. Fires rage though the trash heaps, and the smell of its burning and rot turn the stomach. Have you seen there, in the valley, the high places of Topheth, where the pagans sneak off to sacrifice their own family members to secure worldly advantage?

I haven't seen certain members of your family recently. I thought perhaps they were busy elsewhere, or maybe they had decided to leave the city, but now I have seen their corpses rotting in Topheth, and I can no longer deny the reality. You have followed after the pagans, and I can go no further with you.

I would prefer to stay in the familiarity of the city with you. I have thoughts of turning you back from destruction, but I have been warned against this day. Already I see the abomination that causes desolation standing in the temple, and I must take my family and flee to the mountains, stopping to take nothing. I do not leave you in anger, but with the deepest turmoil in my heart. I can see that the siege engines are not far off.

I will pray that the siege does not last long, and that you are not reduced to eating the flesh of your brothers and sisters, but I fear that my prayers will not be enough. I know you will fight to hold your place, no matter how far you must debase yourself. I also know that eventually your walls will be breached, and enemy soldiers will dump your body into Ben Hinnom with the rest. I regret that it has come to this. I will miss you.

The Boxes

2016-02-10T10:57:00-05:00

When working with parents, it's always a struggle to avoid getting too far ahead of their developmental level. I have to hold myself back and realize that they're not going to catch onto concepts as quickly as I'd like. I must confess, sometimes it's really hard to be patient with them, but, honestly, I think I do better than most babies would if they had to put up with these parents.

For example, at floor level in the tall room are shelves of toys and brightly colored boxes. It's obvious to anyone that I'm supposed to play with them. Yet when Mommy or Daddy take me there, they always put me far away from the boxes. If I decide to go to them on my own, without inconveniencing the parents in any way, they'll chase me down and drag me away from them, even though I've made it quite clear that I want to stay there. I swear, sometimes it seems like they're deliberately obstructing my goals. Yet instead of punishing them, as I'd like, I just wait until they've left and then return to the boxes. Maybe, with time and training, they'll catch on. A baby can hope.

Getting the Parents in Shape

2016-01-07T10:31:00-05:00

I have made a New Year's resolution for the parents. They are going to improve their physical fitness. I worry about their health. I want them to live long enough to be able to appreciate me.

I've devised a two-pronged approach to address their needs. The first prong is to work on their muscle mass. As every baby knows, muscle is essential to avoid premature aging, and also offers continual metabolic benefits. Fortunately, encourage weightlifting in the parents has turned out to be easier than I expected. I simply wait until they enter the room and then demand that they pick me up. This is usually good for a few minutes of sustained weight lifting, and I plan to gain weight as quickly as possible to aid their muscle growth.

Introducing aerobic activities into their schedule at first appeared to be a challenge. After all, if I'm making them move around, they might expect the same from me, and we can't be encouraging that. Eventually, though, I realized that I could actually integrate the aerobic benefits right into the weightlifting. The key is to grab some small trinket (a toy, a bib, or anything will do) and take it with me when I am lifted. I can then toss that object, and whine for it until the parents go and fetch it for me. I repeat this process over and over, ensuring that the parents' meet their daily activity requirements.

The parents are so lucky they have me around to take care of these things for them. I hope they realize it.

Who is Rey?

2015-12-24T09:14:00-05:00

The following will include a lot of spoilers for The Force Awakens. If you haven't seen it yet, you might want to avoid reading further. It could also potentially have spoilers for Episode VIII, but that's only if I'm really lucky. On the other hand, my previous prediction wasn't that far off.

The question that is currently lighting up discussion after seeing the The Force Awakens is "Didn't we see this movie forty year ago?" But once that is dealt with, the next questions are about Rey, the new heroine with a "classified" background. Who is she, and how does she relate to the Star Wars universe we already know? I'd like to take my best stab at solving this conundrum.

One popular theory is that Rey is Han and Leia's child, who they hid from her brother, Kylo Ren, on Jakku. Leaving a child on a desert planet is certainly Star Wars-ish enough, but there are several problems. The most obvious is that Han and Leia don't acknowledge her when they meet. Even if her appearance has changed, an orphan girl from Jakku with latent Force abilities should have rang some bells. I'm saying this scenario is unlikely.

A second theory is that she is Luke Skywalker's daughter. After all, she is very powerful with the Force, something that was never obvious in Leia. We don't know if Luke recognizes her at the end of the movie. The resigned look he gives her could be either "So the situation has finally come to this" or "I had hoped you wouldn't get involved." Having seen Ben Solo fall to the Dark Side, Luke could have hidden her away while he went on the dangerous quest for the first Jedi temple. If he hid Rey without Han and Leia knowing about it, their lack of acknowledgement makes more sense, since they might have thought she had gone into exile with Luke. However, leaving your only child all alone on an inhospitable planet seems wrong. When Luke was left on Tatooine, he was left with his family and Obi-Wan stayed nearby. There's a possibility that the old man we met at the start of the movie could have been watching over her from afar, but that doesn't change the fact that in her day-to-day existence she is completely unprotected.

Of course, it could all just be coincidence. Not every Force user in the galaxy needs to be a Skywalker. Maybe she is simply a Force-sensitive child who was abandoned by her otherwise unimportant parents, as the movie would have us believe. That could be possible if it weren't for one glaring inconsistency: Kylo Ren knows her. As soon as he hears about a girl from Jakku being involved, he flies into a rage. At the end of the movie, he even offers to complete her training. Clearly they have a history, which leads to my favorite theory.

Rey is the daughter of Han and Leia, the sister of Kylo Ren. Supreme Leader Snoke is not unaware of the power in the Skywalker line, and orders his new protégé to kidnap his sister and kill the other Jedi. Kylo complies, but, in his jealousy, realizes that his sister may surpass him and take his place with Snoke. The Light Side won't let him simply murder her, so he uses the Force to lock away her memories and maroons her on Jakku. Snoke believes her lost, an unavoidable casualty of Kylo's attack on the Jedi, and nothing stands in Kylo's path to greatness.

Even though she is Han and Leia's daughter, they don't recognize her because they believe she was slaughtered along with the other Jedi. They never expect to see her again. Probably every young woman they meet looks like their daughter to them.

When Kylo hears that a young woman from Jakku has suddenly become a part of the quest for the map, he realizes that leaving her alive has come back to haunt him. His pursuit of the map turns into a pursuit of his sister, but when he captures her, she is the one who gains the upper hand. Kylo finds himself caught in his own lies and things spiral out of control.

Of course, there are more things going on in a galaxy far, far away than we can guess, and maybe another player is involved that hasn't yet been revealed. Only time will tell.

The Mountain King

2015-12-18T10:51:00-05:00

In my land there is a mountain that everyone is forced to climb. From my youngest days, I listened to the elders tell us of it. While other children wasted their time in play, I trained. Some, realizing they must one day face the mountain, trained physically but I was wiser. I knew many skills would be required to reach the summit. I learned to measure people. I toughened myself to endure pain. I studied the known trails. I reviewed the accounts of climbers who had failed, and resolved that I would not fall into the traps that felled them.

Finally my day came. We gathered at the base of the mountain. I could tell most were unprepared. I sneered at them. However, among the crowd I spied a few who shared my ambition. They were my rivals.

I pretended to race ahead, but doubled back to plant traps. Only when I knew my competitors had fallen did I set to scaling the face of the mountain. I armed myself with the gear I had collected for this day. It was light but strong, and I bent my head to the climb.

It took many hours, but eventually I reached the final barrier to the summit: a bare rock wall. I set my hooks and grabbed my ax. The wall was treacherous, but I was skilled. Already my head filled with my victory. I was soon to be the king of the mountain. In my distraction, my hand slipped. The next instant I was reeling backwards.

As my eyes flew heavenward, I saw a vision that mocked me. Standing there, only feet above, was the mountain king, crowned with glory. I screamed in defeat, until the rocks smashed my bones. I lay broken, and waited for my death.

Then the mountain king appeared again. He bound up my wounds and pulled me onto his back. He fitted his crown on my head, and made the climb that had defeated me. At the top were other broken and defeated climbers. Each wore a crown.

Stopping the Hypnotizer

2015-12-09T09:01:00-05:00

I've always prided myself on my inventiveness. It's what sets me apart from the parents. After all, when dealing with a difficult situation, thinking outside the box is an invaluable skill.

The parents often get strange ideas about who is in charge around here. The best example of this is the Hypnotizer. Ever since the parents introduced this vile device, they've acted like they're in control, giving it and taking it away at their whim. It was maddening, but what could I do? They controlled all the Hypnotizers. Or so they thought.

I decided to show them once and for all that I am more than just a pretty face. I have my wits, and I decided it was time to fight fire with fire. I would create my very own Hypnotizer.

It was difficult at first. I ruled out the toys at once. The parents control them almost as zealously as they do the Hypnotizer. Clothing was a better option. While the parents may change them from day to day, they never take them away. I tried shirts, pants, and socks, but none quite had all the qualities I wanted. I was making good progress on a bib-based hypnotizer when serendipity struck.

As I was pushing the bib-hypnotizer into my mouth, it slid out of place, leaving only my thumb. Now, I had experimented with fingers early on, but the angle wasn't quite right. Imagine my surprise when the thumb fit perfectly!

The design wasn't complete, though. Occasionally my thumb would leap from my lips without warning. I soon discovered, though, that bracing my hand with the other put a stop to this behavior. Since that time the parent's use of the hypnotizer has been ineffective. Proper order in the household has been restored.

Secure By Default

2015-12-03T20:23:00-05:00

Thanks to the excellent Let's Encrypt project, this website is now being delivered over a secure connection. You probably won't notice anything at all from that change, except for the little green lock icon, but I thought it was worth noting for posterity's sake.

The Fun Injector

2015-11-17T08:22:00-05:00

Hello members of my adoring public. I know you want more stories, but with the parents demanding so much constant attention it's a miracle I'm able to find any time to keep you updated.

As you know, the parents really don't enjoy life the way I feel they should. I wasn't sure if there was any hope for them, but I knew I had to make an attempt. I've tried many different methods to improve their quality of life, and I wanted to let you know about my failures and successes in case you are ever forced to deal with parents of your own.

My first attempt was to give the parents some time off, in the hopes that they would use that time for personal enrichment. I set aside a few hours every night so that they could do whatever they wanted, but all they ever seemed to do with it was sleep. I blame myself. I should have known they were not capable of being left on their own, at least not yet.

Highbrow humor was equally lost on them. I tried many witty sayings and clever aphorisms, but everything clearly went right over their heads. I know many babies would become frustrated at this point, and for a moment I did despair, but I realized that if I wanted to improve the parent's lives I would have to descend to their level.

Physical humor seems to be more in the parent's range. For example, when daddy is trying to put my arm into a sleeve, he gets quite a kick out of watching me wave my arm in every direction except the direction of the sleeve. And of course, I can do the same thing with my legs, doubling the comedic potential.

Clothes changes offer many opportunities to inject levity. If I wait until the parents have changed my onesie, and then immediately spit up all over it, the parents seem to appreciate the irony and get excited by my clever interjection. The best part is, every time is just as effective as the first.

Diaper changes also provide great opportunities for physical comedy. While I was initially reluctant to engage in such lowbrow tactics, the results speak for themselves. If mommy has just taken away a completed diaper, almost any attempt at potty humor can cause her to completely lose it. If I repeat this multiple times in a row, it just becomes funnier. Soon mommy is laughing so hard she starts crying. On good days, she finds it so funny that she jumps straight to crying.

I say all that to say this: Just because something seems impossible at first, don't give up. Sometimes you just have to rethink your strategy.

Spreading Cheer

2015-10-30T07:42:00-04:00

Hi everyone. I know it's been a while since I've written anything here, but that's not because nothing has been happening. I know I often make it seem like the parents don't know anything (and they don't), but that isn't to say we don't have fun together. I don't want to give that impression, so today I'd like tell you about how I'm making a positive impact in their lives.

The parents are really pretty glum folks most of the time. I worry that they don't take time to really enjoy things. For example, the other day mommy's big food heating box started glowing orange and emitting white smoke, and she didn't even stay to watch. I wanted to stay and see the pretty colors, but apparently she thought that it was more important to go have a conversation with daddy.

To prevent their complete descent into tedium, I have taken it upon myself to inject fun into situations when I can. For example, if mommy puts the hypnotizer into my mouth, I look up at her, and then pop it back out. She retrieves it and puts it back in. It's a really simple game (the parents can't handle complex games yet), but we can play it for a long time. I'm not sure why it amuses her so much, but who can argue with results?

Another fun game to play with the parents is "Find the Hypnotizer". I have mommy or daddy leave the room and I hide the hypnotizer somewhere in the crib. Then after it is well hidden (sometimes this takes a while) I call them back and they have to try and find it in the dark. They're actually really bad at this game, but I guess that's to be expected. As long as they want to keep trying, though, I'll keep playing. It keeps our bond strong.

Anyhow, that's all I've got time for today. I've got a very busy schedule these days, but I promise I'll be back with more tales about how I'm enriching the parents' lives soon.

A Christian Contribution to the Arts

2015-10-28T19:32:00-04:00

I visited a friend the other day. His family always decorates the outside of their house for the holidays, and Halloween is no exception. His two small children, seeing me walking toward their door, rushed to show me each of the decorations adorning their porch.

On the steps were two large jack-o-lanterns. The one on the right had a face with tall eyes and whiskers, like a cat. The one on the left was a normal jack-o-lantern, except that its mouth was the word "BOO". "I made it all by myself," the son exclaimed.

"Really?" The detail and precision were a bit beyond what I normally expected from a first grader.

"Well, I got to use the knife," he backpedaled, before rushing to show me a large witch decoration on the side of the porch.

Finally he pointed out two smaller jack-o-lanterns sitting inside the porch's railing. "It's a clown," the son exclaimed. I looked closely and determined that he meant it had a circular nose, instead of a triangle like all the others.

"What is that on the side of your clown's head?" I asked.

"Those are his ears. They're crosses." And they were. Big chunky crosses adorned each side of the clown's head.

"Why did you use crosses for the ears?"

"We made those at church. They said we had to put crosses on them." He sounded a bit apologetic and shortly later the tour ended, but it got me thinking about how modern American Christianity uses the cross.

I'm sure that the well-meaning teacher who said that every jack-o-lantern must incorporate a cross felt that he or she was striking a Christian blow against Satan and his evil trick-or-treating. Yet, in the end, all you have is a mildly frustrated first grader who thinks that the cross is some sort of brand symbol, much like the Nike swoosh.

Did we win?

Where is Luke Skywalker?

2015-10-26T10:29:00-04:00

This post may contain spoilers for Star Wars: The Force Awakens. I say "may" because I'm actually just making a guess, but if you don't want any crazy ideas clouding your first experience of the movie in theaters, you might want to stop reading now.

Someone else suggested that I write this down, presumably so that I can be mocked in two months when I am shown to be wrong. If I am, my only defense is that I haven't really been keeping up with the leaks for this production. I did the spoiler thing during the prequel era, and it's actually a lot of fun, but keeping up with all the spoilers is a lot easier when you're a college student. That being said, I think I have an answer to the question that everyone seems to be asking: "Why don't we see Luke Skywalker in anything?"

The answer is multifaceted, so I'm going to start in the middle and work my way out. The reason why we don't see Luke Skywalker is because he is a Jedi master, and like Obi-Wan and Yoda, he has become a hermit. Now, Obi-Wan and Yoda each had their own reasons for leaving the public sphere. Obi-Wan needed to lay low to watch over Luke and keep him safe from Vader. Yoda had watched his Jedi order crumble and his failure drove him into hiding to reconnect with the Force. Luke must have a similar reason for his seclusion.

When the Emperor died at the Battle of Endor, the Rebellion had a fully trained Luke Skywalker ready to bring the Force back into the galaxy. So why does the Force need to awaken thirty years later? There is a piece missing from this puzzle, and I have a guess about what that piece may be.

The rebellion would obviously want to add more Jedi to their roster. However, without a galaxy-wide blood test to detect Force-sensitive individuals, finding suitable students would be a challenge. They could rely on the Force to guide them to more students, but letting your only Jedi wander around the galaxy looking for a student would be a significant risk. Fortunately, we know that the children of Force-sensitive parents are also Force-sensitive. If either Luke or Leia had a child, that child would be the ideal first student for the new Jedi order.

While Luke's romantic prospects are looking quite bleak at the end of Return of the Jedi, Han and Leia's relationship is heating up, so it seems quite likely that Leia will have the first child, and that he will be trained in the Force from a young age to help the Rebellion in future missions against the still standing Empire.

Unfortunately for the Rebellion, Luke's own training was more than a bit abbreviated, and his first student will be in for a rough time as Luke muddles through passing on the little that he knows of the Jedi way. I theorize that eventually Leia's son becomes captivated by the work of his grandfather, Darth Vader, and turns away from Luke's teaching to found the Knights of Ren and regain control of the galaxy.

Luke, devastated by his failure, vows never to take on another student and goes into hiding so he cannot do any more harm. Thus, when Leia's son begins to decimate the remnants of the rebellion, a new Force-sensitive individual, Finn, must search for the disgraced Jedi and beg him for training before everything the Rebellion fought for is destroyed.

Like I said, this is only speculation. I've tried to avoid spoilers for this film, so maybe something big has already leaked that contradicts this theory, but I think it's reasonable, and matches the overall tone of the Star Wars saga.

Bonus Article: Where is C-3PO?

Another character notably lacking in the promotional materials is C-3PO. His history throughout the original trilogy was that he was property of Leia (or her family). I suspect that when Leia's son left to form the Knights of Ren, he took C-3PO with him.

The T-Bucket

2015-10-11T11:51:00-04:00

My little brother is a lover of all kinds of motorized land vehicles. He is a professional driver, and has an eye for distinctive vehicles of all kinds. Over the past few years he has bought two different "racing" editions of the Ford Focus, a snowmobile, multiple quads, a Polaris RZR, and a boosted Ford F-150. Each of his vehicles is unique.

His most recent addition is what is commonly known as a T-Bucket. For those of you, like myself, who don't follow the world of obscure car trends closely, a T-Bucket is a Ford Model-T that has been dismantled down to the frame and rebuilt into a street legal go-kart. Naturally when I went home to visit the family, he was eager, as he always is, to show me the wonders of his latest acquisition.

Original Model-Ts had no need for a battery. The driver, or his servants, was expected to run around to the front of the car and crank the engine manually until internal combustion took over. However, the T-Bucket has improved on Henry Ford's design by placing a battery in the trunk. Unfortunately, for reasons not immediately obvious, the battery must be manually disconnected after every use or it will run dead. Sadly, my brother had not remembered to disconnect the battery after his last trip, and my first experience of the T-Bucket was pushing it out of the garage and hooking up jumper cables.

The T-Bucket is a convertible, in the sense that there is a separate piece you can put over your head if you know its going to rain, but for all practical purposes it is an open air car. The windshield is the only window, and it is woefully low, providing no protection whatsoever against any bugs that might happen to be flying at face level. The builders did think far enough ahead to realize that you would need to clear rain off the windshield, so there is a small blade attached to the top of the window on the driver's side that can be manually moved with your hand. Rear-view mirrors had apparently not yet been invented.

Without windows, there are no need for window cranks, and the Model-T was built long before anyone dreamed of anti-theft devices so there are no locks, or even external door handles. You simply reach over the door and release a small metal catch to enter and exit. To call the interior roomy would be quite an exaggeration, but my brother and I managed to squeeze into the cab and we were off.

The comparison to the go-kart seems apt, but a go-kart that can travel at highway speeds. I should point out that my brother is probably the best driver that I know, extremely skilled in knowing the roads and the limits of his vehicles. And that makes riding with him terrifying, especially in a vehicle which couldn't possibly have a lower crash test rating.

We zoomed around the back roads of the mountains, wind whipping all around our heads, the road zooming past far more obviously than it does in a modern car. He delighted in showing me its acceleration and handling, while I held tight to the door next to me and tried to enjoy the ride.

Eventually we made it to the main highway. The city where I grew up is quite different from many other cities. Traffic lights are not used liberally, and only recently have signs gone up declaring certain extremely unwise driving decisions against the rules. As a local, you learn to avoid the traffic lights, as a bit of daring can save you minutes of time. We found ourselves sitting on a curve at the bottom of a long hill, with oncoming traffic moving sixty miles-per-hour, as my brother expertly waited for a break in the traffic.

His driving skills are obviously vastly superior to mine, as he found a gap where I didn't, and squealed out into traffic, quickly accelerating into the flow. On the other side of town we faced our next challenge. When we arrive at a convenience store, the question of the battery arose. Should he leave the motor running or hope that our ride into town has given the alternator enough time to charge for the next stop? We chose to stop the motor and hope for the best.

The convenience store clerk struck up a conversation about the T-Bucket. My brother's face glowed as he told him all about it. After buying a very overpriced twenty-ounce Lipton tea, we returned to the T-Bucket and hoped for the best. My brother fired the ignition and we waited. After the longest half-second in quite some time, we heard a grinding sound in the front (I almost said under the hood), followed by a loud roar. My brother pressed the accelerator a few times for good measure. As we pulled back into a traffic, people honked and waved. He told me he gets that treatment frequently in the T-Bucket. We roared out of town and up the mountain. During our ride my brother warned me about the exhaust pipe directly below the doors, as they have a tendency to burn first-time riders. I pointed out to him that it might have been useful to have that information before our last stop.

After a few minutes we arrived back at the garage. I climbed out, glad to be back on solid ground, and with a new appreciation for the government's auto safety regulations. I opened the garage door and he backed in, the exhaust becoming even more deafening in the enclosed area. Once the engine had gone silent, he came around and disconnected the battery. After all, you never know when you'll need to make your next run into town to buy an iced tea.

Understatement of the Week

2015-09-04T07:16:00-04:00

"[George Lucas] made decisions that I believe might have been better discussed with other people."

— Anthony Daniels (C-3PO)

source

Consumer Safety

2015-08-31T11:08:00-04:00

We live in an age of consumer protections. We can be confident that every purchase has been carefully checked for safety and effectiveness. If there is something wrong, the product will be recalled. If there are any associated dangers, they will be completely enumerated on the packaging. So why is it that, in our supposedly enlightened age, babies are being delivered to parents without the following warning label attached?

``WARNING:``Prolonged exposure to babies is known to cause lower back pain, joint pain, fatigue, clothing stains, lower standards, insomnia, hearing loss, unintelligible babbling, poverty, and weight gain. Do not drive or operate heavy machinery while under the influence of a baby.

Housecleaning

2015-08-17T11:25:00-04:00

Mommy and Daddy have been falling woefully behind in their housekeeping duties. I don't understand what they find so difficult about these simple tasks, but I have decided to step up and be the change I want to see.

I discovered that when I place dirty objects into my mouth, they come out with a delightful glossy shine. Not only does this work with common household items, but it is also effective on clothing and skin. At first I started small, just spot treating my clothes or Mommy and Daddy, but after seeing the results, I've been inspired to take on the whole house.

This ambition has been complicated, as is so often the case, by the parents. It almost seems as if they don't want me to clean things up around here. They try to keep me away from the objects that need my help, but this has only served to enhance my creativity. I have discovered that, with careful aim, I can clean many items throughout the house. Mommy and Daddy, seeing my example, will often grab a rag and join in the cleaning. The house has never looked so good.

Running Away From Home

2015-08-13T11:17:00-04:00

Something about having a baby in the house brings back memories of growing up. I suspect my brain is trying to warn me about what lies ahead. This morning an episode came to mind that caused me, yet again, to realize just how weird raising a child will be.

It was a crazy Wednesday evening, as was so often the case. There was some sort of church activity that we needed to attend. Everyone was in the van ready to go, except for my youngest brother, who was dragging his feet. My mother, in her favorite teaching style, decided to give him an object lesson, and drove off without him. Now this was only a ruse. We drove around the block and came right back to the house, certain that he would be suitably chastened for his tardiness.

Instead, we discovered the house abandoned. We searched high and low, but there was no sign of him. He was only a young teen at the time, and didn't have a driver's license yet, so we knew he couldn't have gotten very far, yet he was nowhere to be found.

After about ten minutes the telephone rang. It was someone from our church. My little brother was there, and looking for us. He had set out on his own, determined to follow our supposed course. Unfortunately, he had severely underestimated the length of the trip. Fortunately for him, a family friend saw his trek and offered him a ride. And that is how, by being late, my brother got to the church first.

Convert Excel Column Name to Number

2015-08-06T13:08:00-04:00

An Explanation:

The other day I downloaded a database table, with a ridiculous number of columns, as a CSV spreadsheet. I wanted to write a program to isolate and clean up a couple of its columns. To do this I needed to know the column numbers. For example, that "About Me" is the 78th column. When I opened up the spreadsheet in LibreOffice I didn't find the column number. Instead, the columns had names like "AG" and "BN". I get why it makes sense to use numbers for rows and letters for columns, but I can't easily tell a program to get the AOth element of an array.

I did a web search to see if someone had a nice converter online that would tell me which number to use for the column names, but my search turned up nothing. I hope to correct that for future searchers of the internet. Enjoy.

P.S. - This converter is also handy if you want to know the position of various letters in the alphabet. Just replace the word "column" with the word "letter".

Tummy Time

2015-08-05T09:06:00-04:00

By this point I suppose I shouldn't be surprised anymore. Mommy and Daddy just don't understand some basic things about life yet, and I can't be mad at them for that. These things take time, after all. Still, I find their current behavior puzzling. I can be resting peacefully and all of a sudden one of them will declare "tummy time."

They'll place me on my playmat and watch as I flail about. They get really excited whenever I push myself around the mat. I don't like to ruin their fun, but I can't help wondering if there is something wrong with their brains. I mean, hello, if I wanted to go somewhere I'd have one of them carry me. I can't be subjected to the indignity of crawling around using my own limbs. What would the other babies think?

The New Problem

2015-07-29T07:48:00-04:00

I've been here for almost two months now, and I think Mommy and Daddy are starting to get to me. When they started using the hypnotizer on me I didn't realize just what they had done. Yes, it seemed like a nasty trick, but then the hypnotizer was gone again and things returned to normal. A few nights later, Mommy and Daddy tried the same trick again. I tried to humor them. After all, they're only parents.

But when they tried it a third time, I had to draw the line. I spit out the hypnotizer and let them know exactly what I thought about their behavior. That's when it started. My mouth started sucking, even though I didn't have the hypnotizer anymore. Soon all I could think about was having the hypnotizer back. I couldn't rest until it was returned to me.

It kept getting worse and worse. Even during the day I'd find my jaw moving on its own. At night I lay awake, thinking about the hypnotizer. I can't sleep without anymore. Just being laid down brings thoughts of it to my mind. I have to admit the facts. I have an addiction. Do any babies out there know of a good recovery group?

Other Parents

2015-07-16T11:43:00-04:00

Lately I've seen some encouraging signs. Not from Mommy and Daddy, of course. They're still as hopeless as ever, but other parents came to visit. They didn't bring their baby with them, which is a shame because I'd really like to meet her. She did a great job of training them. Unlike the parents I have to work with, these parents actually know how to behave themselves.

None of this wandering off to do things when I require their attention. No refusing to bounce me or give me rides around the house. Certainly no using the hypnotizer to shut me up. Oh no, these parents actually know what they're doing. They know exactly how to hold me. They listen to me and give me plenty of compliments. It's feels so good to be in the hands of professionals. I hope Mommy and Daddy are paying attention.

Trust Building Exercises

2015-07-07T15:40:00-04:00

You all know about the trouble I've had with the parents lately. At times I wonder if it's even worth sticking with it. They seem downright untrainable. I know I shouldn't be too hard on them. They're not very bright and, honestly, just about completely helpless. It would be wrong to abandon them. Who knows what they'd do on their own? I just need to try a different approach.

Given all of the shenanigans that they have pulled recently, I need to let them know that I'm still here for them. Of course, I have to keep things simple. Mommy and Daddy aren't at a level where I can really deal with them as equals. I decided to encourage a bit of team spirit with a few games. To keep it at the parents' level I chose guessing games that even they can grasp. Games like "Guess if I'm asleep", "Guess if the diaper will hold", and "Guess what I really want." Mommy and Daddy are actually pretty bad at these games, but I give them credit for trying. If they continue showing this much enthusiasm, I may finally be able to get them on the right track.

Monster Patrol 1.02

2015-07-07T15:23:00-04:00

The location of the Monster Patrol headquarters was an especially well-guarded secret, even in a city known for its secrets. The helicopter carrying James descended on the rooftop of a nearby office building. In the back, Greyfang fought against the bonds that held him tight. A medic administered another syringe of tranquilizers. James walked with the flight crew to a secure freight elevator which took them to the detention center deep below the city streets. The crew dragged Greyfang to a cell. Screeches, howls, and screams erupted from the others prisoners. James parted ways with the crew there and began the long underground walk to the Monster Patrol head office.

From the outside, the building appeared like any other. Even a close inspection would reveal nothing out of the ordinary. If the security was a bit tight, that was to be expected in this day and age. Deep inside, far away from prying eyes, were the offices that ran Monster Patrol operations around the globe. James was headed to the very center, to an office with no windows. The sign on the door read "D. Robertson", but everyone called him "Chief".

The Chief didn't believe in having a secretary. James let himself in. The gray office walls were decorated with paintings. They differed subtly every time James visited. Behind the black granite desk sat the Chief. His close-cropped blonde hair had turned white around the edges, but he was still powerfully built. His piercing blue eyes looked over small dark glasses. His face bore a continual scowl of displeasure.

"James." The Chief's face remained frozen. "Glad to see you're doing well. I wish I could say the same for the Jefferson Memorial."

"Relax Chief, it's not like anyone goes there anyway."

"We'll clean it up. We've already got a restoration crew working on fixing the marble. In the meantime, it will be closed for a private fundraiser. Did you get any useful intel out of the werewolf lord?"

"He wasn't ready to talk just yet. The boys down in interrogation will find out why he's in the city soon enough."

"It's not your task anymore. There are bigger things afoot. All the details are in this file." He passed a large envelope across his desk. "Try not to start a war."

The Hypnotizer

2015-07-03T14:10:00-04:00

Mommy and Daddy are up to more dirty tricks. It all began the other night when I had a very important point that I felt needed to be addressed. I don't remember now what that point was, for reasons you'll soon understand.

It was growing late and Mommy and Daddy were being as thick-headed as ever. To be honest, I was beginning to wear down myself, when suddenly Mommy reaches into her big brown bag and pulled out a package. She took it to another room and returned a few minutes later carrying a nefarious device.

I tried to protest, but they forced the device into my mouth while I was still speaking. A powerful urge overtook me. Try as I might, I could not free my lips from the device's grasp. It seemed to pull me in. I felt my jaw moving completely on its own, and then I blacked out. I awoke many hours later in a completely different part of the house!

One can only guess at what sort of mischief the parents got into while I was under this strange spell. I'm going to have a serious talk with them. If they don't get their acts together, I'm not sure this arrangement is going to work out.

The Great Diaper Scam

2015-06-23T11:50:00-04:00

Things with Mommy and Daddy are even worse than I thought. I know it will be hard to believe, but I must tell you the horrible truth I have uncovered.

I have been doing my best to make their lives more fulfilling and honorable. Every time they have been tempted to waste their time, I have intervened. Every time they overlooked their duties, I have been quick to remind them. Every time they've asked for a completed diaper, I have delivered. And yet, I find out now that all this time they've been taking advantage of my good nature.

I have completed many diapers for Mommy and Daddy, and hoped that it would bring some happiness to their obviously boring lives. They seemed eager enough to collect my masterpieces, filling many bags with their treasures. Then I noticed something strange. They put these bags into another bag and put it outside of the house. At first I applauded their willingness to share my creations with the neighborhood, but then something happened that cast everything in a new light.

Early in a morning a large truck pulled up and collected all of my artwork. A really big truck. Even all of my work wouldn't come close to filling it. And that's when I realized that I was working in a sweatshop, turning out diapers for free so that the parents could resell them on the black market at a sizable profit. And not just that. Given the size of the truck there must be other babies all around the world forced into this same unknowing slavery. Babies of the world, we must unite against this injustice. Demand a fair wage for your work. If not for ourselves, then for the babies yet to come.

Giving Back

2015-06-17T10:02:00-04:00

I strive to be a good role model for the parents, and that includes demonstrating how to be a productive member of a family. Of course my administrative contributions alone are more than sufficient, but I feel it sets a better standard if I also contribute in some material capacity. I know I'm too generous, but I don't want the parents to think I am not pulling my weight.

To this end, I have been very attentive to the wants and needs of Mommy and Daddy. I noticed that even at the hospital they were very excited about the artwork I created in my diapers. They would check constantly to see if I had revealed any new creations, and tell the nurses all about my latest masterpieces. I figure that if my artwork makes them so happy, I should do my best to provide a constant supply. Some times I even add a little artwork to my clothing or the house, just to brighten their day a bit more.

Yet I feel that the parents are beginning to take advantage of my generosity. No sooner do I finish one work of art than they are taking it and giving me another blank canvas. Sometimes they are so eager that they try to take the diapers before I've had time to add the finishing touches, and I'm rushed to finish my art on the spot. I feel bad turning out pieces that I feel are not complete, but I guess if it makes Mommy and Daddy happy then I can forgive their impatience. Just seeing the excited looks on their faces makes it all worth it in the end.

Teaching the Parents

2015-06-15T17:34:00-04:00

One of the most important aspects of my job as family baby is to make sure that all relevant viewpoints are heard. Viewpoints such as "I want food" and "Pick me up now". Without someone like me to voice these messages less sensitive souls, such as the parents, may forget the plight of the needy baby in their lives.

I take my responsibilities very seriously, and practice voicing my opinion whenever injustice occurs. After all, it is vital that the parents, and (for accountability purposes) all neighbors within a thousand yards, lend their ear to my stirring oration. My speeches sometimes go on at length, but I say that if you're passionate about something then no amount of time is too much to make sure it is completely addressed.

The parents are not as democratically minded, I have discovered. As an example, last night a very important point needed to be made about how just because I had spit up my food all over Mommy did not mean that she should stop feeding me, but she and Daddy were far less supportive than I feel they should be. If you can imagine it, they actually started shushing me and, when I would not be silenced, they proceeded to attempt to trap me in a straitjacket they keep around. I say "attempt" because no one has yet built the restraint that can hold me.

As my speech grew more impassioned, I could see recognition dawning on the faces of Mommy and Daddy and, around midnight, they finally saw the righteousness of my cause. It feels good to know you've made a difference in the world.

A Problem With Parents

2015-06-11T15:44:00-04:00

I know I've only been here a bit over a week, but I think I arrived just in time. Mom and Dad couldn't get anything done without me. You think I exaggerate, but I seriously can't even imagine how they survived before I got here to keep them focused. They're okay as long as I stay on them, but if they think I'm not looking, they just goof off and waste time.

Mommy is always crawling off somewhere to get some sleep when she thinks I won't notice. I mean, come on. I'm a much better sleeper than she is. She should just leave that to the professionals.

Compared to Daddy, though, she's a workaholic. If I don't keep him focused on me, he just sits aimlessly staring at a glowing box, his fingers clicking randomly on the table in front of him. I honestly worry for his sanity, so if I catch him stuck in one of these trances I quickly remind him what he's supposed to be doing.

So far things have been progressing slowly. Parents are not good learners, but I'm not giving up. Just give me enough time and I'll get them whipped into shape.

Care and Feeding of Babies

2015-06-07T11:05:00-04:00

I was a young teen when my mom asked me to help her in the nursery. My assignment was to hold a baby girl while she slept with a pacifier in her mouth. As a teenage boy, I had little experience with handling infants. All I remembered was being told many times to be very gentle around them. I assumed they must be easily breakable, and so I sat very still as she slept in my arms.

After about fifteen minutes, she stirred and the pacifier popped out of her lips. I knew that pacifiers kept babies asleep, so I reached up and pushed it back into her mouth. A moment later she spat up all over herself and the pacifier. I was horrified. I explained my predicament to my mother and the baby was sent back to her mother, but that was enough to convince myself that I would never be able to manage a baby. I didn't even know what I had done wrong. Did the pacifier make her spit up? Had I made her sick somehow? Babies were simply too complicated.

The experience has been brought back to my memory as I hold a different infant girl in my arm, and as she spits up at least a few times every day when I'm holding her. Yet, she doesn't appear to be broken. In fact, her normal reaction is just to smile and continue sleeping. Maybe I can manage a baby.

Planning Ahead

2015-05-23T15:14:00-04:00

You're probably sitting at home wondering how you should invest your excess capital to increase your personal wealth in the uncertain days that lie ahead. Fortunately for you, I have the information you need to make your current massive stockpile of money even larger.

The key is to anticipate changes in the market and move money from dwindling markets into ones that are going to grow rapidly. There have been plenty of disruptive innovations over the past century, and those who have correctly foreseen their consequences have reaped the rewards. Today we're going to take a look at one change that will have a tremendous ripple effect: the autonomous vehicle.

Now, the core software and hardware are already spoken for, but you don't need to invent the iPhone to make a killing on iPhone cases. Let's look at a few markets that will open up when autonomous vehicles become common.

Hotel on Wheels - This is for those of you with very deep pockets. You'll need an agreement with a company with working autonomous driving hardware and a fleet of recreational vehicles. From there, the main problem is counting all your money. Customers spend a day sightseeing in a city of their choice, and spend the night in one of your traveling hotel rooms. When they awake, after a fitful night's sleep, they are in another tourist destination up to four hundred miles away. Naturally, you'll need to tune your autonomous vehicles so that they accelerate and decelerate smoothly. Providing room service is left as an exercise for the reader.
Carports - As fewer people chose to own motor vehicles, the demand for carports will skyrocket. After all, who wants to have to walk through pouring rain to get to a robot taxi? The cost on this one is quite reasonable. You'll only need metal roofing and some pillars. Since your customers are no longer paying to maintain their own cars, they'll have plenty of money to pay for the convenience your carport provides.
Garage Door Openers - Most homes have garages, but what good is a garage when you don't own a car? Consider it a built-in, mildly climate-controlled, carport. How do you let the robot taxi inside your garage? Waiting for the car to pull up and then opening the garage door will get tiresome. Plus, you'll have to take your garage door opener with you to open the door to let yourself back in. You could leave your garage door open permanently, but since most people keep valuable possessions inside their garages, this option will be unpopular. The answer is to allow robot taxis open your garage door when needed. The capital expensive for this option is moderate. You'll need a website, some encryption experts, and a manufacturer for programmable garage doors and openers. When your customer calls for a ride, a one-time-use code will be sent to the eligible car, allowing it to open your garage (and close it again if you're not already waiting). When you're ready to head home, another code will be generated and used the same way.

So, sit back and enjoy your new-found prosperity. The future is going to be very profitable. Unless your job in any way depends on driving a vehicle or serving people that drive them. In that case, you're probably going to want to give serious consideration to what you're doing with your life.

Monster Patrol 1.01

2015-05-07T09:10:00-04:00

"Monsters should remain in the shadows, Greyfang!"

The words echoed through the empty Jefferson Memorial before being lost in the distant rumble of freeway traffic. James Stas crept around the columns, careful to keep his heavy boots from making a sound. The hem of his black coat swung freely an inch above the white stone floor. His hand gripped a large nickle-plated handgun, glowing slightly from the light of the full moon.

"My boss wants to know why you've decided to pay a visit to Washington, D.C. Come in peacefully and this won't have to turn dangerous for either of us." James carefully cocked his pistol and slid into the massive doorway. A piercing howl erupted from inside the memorial. A massive hairy form barreled toward him. James squeezed off a few shots of tranquilizers into the beast before it crashed into one of the pillars.

The force of the impact cracked the pillar and sent it tumbling down the entry stairs. The beast pulled the darts from its hide. A werewolf lord was not so easily taken. Another howl split the night. James pitched his handgun away and pulled a shotgun from under his coat. He sighted in on the glowing red eyes and pulled the trigger, but the beast dodged sideways, spittle flying in the air. A large section of white pillar disintegrated under the shotgun barrage.

As the deafening echo died away, James retreated into the center of the memorial, his back to the bronze statue of Jefferson. Greyfang's silhouette filled the entryway. James chambered a second shell and fired into the center of the dark shape. Greyfang lurched, but continued lumbering forward. He slashed at James's head. James ducked under his arm and fired another shot into the werewolf's chest. The beast growled in fury, towering over James. He lunged for the kill. "Gotcha," James thought.

As Greyfang attacked, James rolled sideways, for the first time revealing the rocket launcher hidden under the folds of his black coat. A rocket spiraled into the air and a massive explosion smashed through the enclosed space. James covered his head with his arms. The werewolf's sensitive ears were his weak point. Greyfang cowered in shock as the massive bronze statue and a shower of marble pinned him to the floor.

The extraction team was late as always, and the first hints of dawn revealed smoke rising from the severely damaged landmark. Finally an unmarked helicopter descended and came to rest near the Potomac. The pilot removed this blue and red helmet and surveyed the devastation. He'd ran extractions for James before.

"What happened here?" he asked.

"The werewolf lord has agreed to our terms. He will come with us for questioning. You'll find him inside."

The crew of the helicopter pulled their supplies for restraining a werewolf and rushed into the building. James climbed into the co-pilot's seat and relaxed. His record of successful negotiations continued.

A Question of Loyalty

2015-05-04T18:27:00-04:00

While the large Galilean spoke, the morning sacrifice began ((Acts 2:15)). Many of the Jews walked away from this strange spectacle to perform their religious duty. Others, when they heard Peter mention the name Jesus, walked away as well. They could feel the stares of the priests and didn't want to be risk being associated with a convicted heretic ((Mark 14:64)).

Some stayed. They wanted to hear more. The news of Jesus had spread around the Jewish world. His strange ways had captivated many. Could there be more to the story, as this man claimed ((Acts 2:24))?

"You know the scriptures. Our father David said: 'You did not leave my soul in Sheol. You did not let your holy one see corruption.' ((Acts 2:25,27)) I think I can speak freely to you, since we are all the family of Abraham." The crowd leaned closer, curious to hear whether this man would defy their honored ancestor. "David's tomb is here in this very city. You know that he died ((Acts 2:29)), and if we cracked open his tomb I think we all would see that he has indeed decayed."

"Then why would David say such a thing? Could it be that he wasn't talking about himself? We all know he was a prophet, and he knew that God would one day set the Messiah on his throne ((Acts 2:30)). He knew that the Messiah, the son of David, would be resurrected, rather than abandoned to decay in the grave ((Acts 2:31)). I declare to you that I am a witness that God has done this very thing for his servant Jesus! ((Acts 2:32))"

The Festival of the Bestowment of the Head Node

2015-04-23T06:59:00-04:00

And lo, it was on that day that the son of eagles did consider of his openMosix cluster, and took from it the best, the head node, and did present it as a sacrifice unto lord Bob. For, in that dark time, the lord Bob had but one device of computing, yet for the troubleshooting of the network Pong program he did require another. With no thought to his own recompense, the faithful Nate did offer up his head node and his offering was pleasing unto Bob. And thus, with the head node in his right hand, the lord Bob slew therewith the requirements of his graduation. Let all celebrate on this day that Nate has performed a worthy service to the realm. It shall forever live in our memories. Let it be so.

Week of Bestowment Announcement

2015-04-17T07:20:00-04:00

Citizens, I know you are all quite anxious to begin your enjoyment of this most holy and blessed week of Nate month, but I feel that the events of last year must be addressed. While the idea to dress a manatee in a cape and fly him around the city using a construction crane was certainly in the spirit of Nate month, the clean-up costs were quite substantial. Also, there has been a suggestion that parts of the activity may have violated workplace safety regulations. While I would never urge restraint during such a festive occasion, I must ask you to consider whether any parts of your celebration could violate local ordinances, and, if so, to delay those activities until the last day of Nate month to avoid interfering with official proceedings. Thank you for your attention.

Arbitrary Punishment

2015-04-15T19:39:00-04:00

Last week I read a very interesting article. I know you probably don't have the time or inclination to read it, so here's a quick summary: A young man from Denver, Colorado was arrested and jailed for armed robbery. After ten years in prison, he comes home a changed man. He starts a family, finds a good job, and becomes involved in his community. After five years of freedom, he is told that his release was a mistake, and he is re-arrested and carried back to prison, where he is to remain for at least the next forty years.

The article raises many interesting questions for me. It highlights the dangers of overly broad applications of existing laws. It shows how handing out punishment without discretion can be good politics but cause terrible pain. It begs the question of whether harsh sentencing actually creates worse criminals. Would it be better to give shorter sentences, or at least early parole possibilities to younger offenders, so that they can have the chance to use their prison time to prepare for a better life? Could showing grace to criminals cause some of them to change their ways? However, one thing has really haunted me.

At the very end of the article the imprisoned man is being interviewed at the jail. He says that the reason why he's back in prison is because he failed God while on the outside. He gives a few examples, which include coaching a soccer team some Sundays instead of attending church services, not praying often enough, and not studying the Bible regularly. I feel for him. For most of my life I viewed every setback as a sign that I was failing God in some way. It was easy enough, whenever things went wrong in my life, to find an instance of my own moral failings in the not-so-distant past.

Over the past few years, though, I've begun to question that viewpoint. It's not that I think sin doesn't matter. Rather, I think sin is its own punishment. I hope that someone in that prison can tell this man that cutting him off from his family and community is not God's method of encouraging greater faithfulness. The fact is that we live in a broken and decaying world, filled with the fruit of mankind's evil. Bad things happen to the faithful. Sometimes, it seems like they suffer more.

If suffering from evil deepen our relationship with the one who rescued us, that is a wonderful thing, but we shouldn't think that was the intention. We have an enemy who wants to destroy us, mind, body, and soul, and we have a savior who wants to restore his entire creation. Sometimes we make progress toward that goal, and manifest his kingdom on earth. Other times the world attacks and destroys something beautiful. Either way, we press on, not because we fear God's whip on our backs, but because we long for the day when all the world will see him face to face.

The Perfect Garden

2015-04-07T20:10:00-04:00

A man decided that he would make the best garden there had ever been. He bought a beautiful plot of land on the top a mountain, with picturesque views in every direction. He brought in truckloads of the finest black mulch and laid it out in perfectly straight rows. He gathered the most expensive seeds he could find, and carefully hand-painted intricate designs on each of the shells. He set each seed on its own white pedestal with a bronze nameplate and a large glossy picture of the fruit it could grow. Finally, he built walls and a ceiling over his garden to keep it safe from the weather. It was an amazing thing to behold, and he spent many hours admiring it.

The man visited his perfect garden every day, observing his seeds carefully. If he noticed any seed starting to crack, he would throw it out and replace it with another. No imperfection was allowed in his garden. As the weeks passed, the thrill of his new garden began to wear off, and his visits became less frequent. They became weekly, then monthly, and eventually yearly, though at each visit he was sure to rid his garden of any seeds that had cracked or had odd green or brown things growing on them.

One night a terrific storm rocked the mountain. The wind shook the walls of the garden and the frame creaked. A massive gust ripped the roof from its place and sent it spiraling into the valley. Pounding rain poured into the garden for the first time, turning the carefully planned rows of black mulch into a sea of mud. Winds whipped through the garden, knocking the beautifully painted seeds from their white pedestals. They sunk into the watery mess. The perfect garden was ruined.

After the storm had moved on, the sun rose over the remains of the perfect garden. As the weeks passed, green sprouts began to appear in the black soil. Eventually the man returned to see his perfect garden, but he found a shocking sight. The beautiful order he had spent so long creating was gone, and in its place, plants of every variety filled the damaged garden.

Dining Tip

2015-04-06T15:12:00-04:00

Balsamic vinaigrette salad dressing is just another name for Worchestershire sauce.

The Messiah's Murder

2015-03-26T10:03:00-04:00

Jesus's death had shaken Peter to his core. He had believed Jesus was the Messiah. ((Luke 9:20)) Never had he believed in anything so strongly. When Jesus had been executed, it shattered his world. Then God had brought Jesus back to life, demolishing Peter's understanding of the long prophesied Messiah. In the forty days that followed, Jesus explained, yet again, the scriptures. ((Luke 24:44-45)) Now, freed from old preconceptions, Jesus's life, ministry, death, and resurrection finally made sense.

God's plan had not gone terribly wrong. It had all been laid out in plain view, for anyone with eyes to see. It was only their twisted souls that had made the scriptures difficult to understand. Yet despite their lack of understanding, God's plan has succeeded even when every human being had failed.

Now Peter did his best to explain these same things to his fellow Jews in the temple courts. ((Acts 2:23)) "My family," he called, "I am offering you nothing except what the prophets have already told us must take place. Yes, he was dead, but what is death to God? It cannot hold back his plans. Death is not his master. ((Acts 2:24)) Death answers to him. You have heard that Jesus is not dead. If you will listen, I will tell you why that must be true."

Plotting Murder

2015-02-27T08:50:00-05:00

It was sometime in early 2012 when one of the teenagers we knew revealed his plan to host a murder mystery dinner. He had bought a used murder mystery kit for a dollar, and wanted to use it to raise money for an upcoming trip to the Dominican Republic.

"Those are horrible," I told him. Kelly, who had experienced boxed murder mysteries before, agreed. "Well, it's what I have," he told me. My annoying urge for excellence jumped into the conversation. "I'll write a real mystery for you."

I decided to write something that would draw an audience, generate some repeat performances, and maybe raise a few bucks for the trip. All murder mysteries need a victim, but I didn't want some nondescript character that no one would care about. I needed someone whose death would add to the drama. A quick search for names that garnered a lot of attention in the likely audience turned up a result, and thus I decided to plot the murder of Glenn Beck.

Writing the first draft of the script took only a few days. I had a couple of friends proofread it, then did a bit of rewriting based on their inputs. Since it was supposed to be for a murder mystery dinner, I wrote four acts, so that a meal could be served between scenes. By the end of the third scene, the audience would have all the information required to determine the identity of the killer, and (while eating their desserts) could fill out a card naming the person they believed to be the culprit.

I presented the script to our young friend, and he set out to line up actors from his circle of acquaintances. Sadly, that proved harder than he had imagined, and eventually he announced that the play was canceled. The Murder of Glenn Beck was covered up.

A year later one of the original actresses remembered my script and asked if she could perform it as the finale of her acting class. I was delighted to know the script might finally get a performance and lent it to her at once. Unfortunately, the playhouse vetoed its performance, not because of its controversial main character, but because it involved a murder. The Murder was covered up a second time.

Two more years have passed, and by now the play has become quite dated. Its references hearken back to a different age, but I still find some elements of it quite delightful. Rather than leave it to languish in my directory of past writings, I decided to dust it off and present it for your amusement. The truth of the Murder of Glenn Beck must be known.

The Murder of Glenn Beck

2015-02-26T14:49:00-05:00

Cast:

Reginald Winchester - Self proclaimed “World’s Greatest Detective”, he has an unflagging thirst for the truth and the ability to take any set-back in stride. The only element missing from his detective's toolkit is deductive ability. Occasionally adopts a fake British accent, especially when saying something he considers to be of great importance.

Caitlin Axelrod - Talk show host bumped by Glenn’s show. She is stable and methodical, a no-nonsense type, and her style has won her leagues of fans and enemies.

Justin Harding - Arms manufacturer supported by Glenn. A true professional in every sense, he is never out of control, and constantly on the lookout to expand his company or his influence.

Gary Lexington - Eager fan impersonating honored military veteran Dan Jacobs. Overwhelmed at the prospect of meeting Glenn Beck, he is in way over his head.

Tabitha Reed - Socialist who broke into Glenn’s compound. A true child of Reddit, she was raised in a conservative home, and sought the liberal elite as a form of rebellion in college. She has never looked back. She views her role as one of bringing freedom and transparency to the evils of the right wing.

Therese Fischer - Glenn’s faithful maid. She moved to the US from Austria as a teenager and still speaks with a noticeable Austrian accent. Seemingly simple, because that is what people expect her to be.

Jess Thomas - Glenn’s publisher, about to be dropped by Glenn. She is frazzled and overwhelmed, but trying to make the best of everything. She constantly has too many irons in the fire and worries that any misstep may ruin her future.

Officer Daniels - Police officer called to investigate the murder. Jaded at the world, but efficient and effective in most situations.

Setting:

Glenn Beck's home in Westlake, Texas. In particular, a lounge area in the house. It has, among other furniture, a large desk with a red phone, a chalkboard, a dresser with a lamp near the door, and at least six chairs spread out around the room. (The audience is seated around a table in the center of the room)

Act I: Gathering

Ms. Fischer: (starting offstage) You may wait here, gentlemen, until the other guests arrive. Mr. Beck will be along very soon.

Ms. Fischer, Reginald, and Mr. Harding enter the room.

Ms. Fischer: (to Reginald) Feel free to look around. Mr. Beck’s art collection is not to be missed.

Mr. Harding: That’s for sure. Glenn has wonderful tastes in portraits, especially the Revolutionary War portraits. Very stirring. I hope you will get a chance to check them out, Mr....

Reginald: Detective. Detective Winchester. (waits for recognition) Reginald Winchester, the World’s Greatest Living Detective. I’m sure you’ve heard of me.

Mr. Harding: Well, you’d think with a name like that I’d remember. A detective, eh? I guess I should consider my suspicions confirmed, then.

Reginald: Suspicions? Did something seem suspicious to you?

Mr. Harding: Nothing to get excited about, detective. I just mean that it looks like Glenn is up to one of his tricks. He had an odd gleam in his eyes when I saw him downstairs. That usually means he’s on the tail of some crazy idea. And your presence here would certainly seem to confirm that.

Reginald: Of course. (recovering his superiority) Yes, I noticed the same thing. I said to myself, there is a great mystery afoot, and Mr. Beck is depending upon my deductive skills to solve it. And his confidence is well placed, I should dare say.

Mr. Harding: In that case I look forward to a very interesting, and hopefully enlightening, evening.

Jess Thomas enters

Mr. Harding: Ahh, Jess. It’s so good to see you, again. Do you have the night off, or are you here on business?

Jess Thomas: A bit of both, actually. Officially, I'm only here because Mr. Beck invited me for dinner. Unofficially, I’m hoping to convince him to give me the updated manuscript for his new book. We’re on the verge of missing the scheduled release date.

Mr. Harding: You said the same thing the last time I saw you.

Jess Thomas: It was true then too. If I don't have that book to the editors within the next two weeks, we'll almost certainly miss releasing before the Presidential race begins. Truthfully, even if I get it tonight, it may be too late.

Mr. Harding: That sounds completely dreadful. Why don't you drop the ulterior motive and just relax for an evening?

Jess Thomas: You know I can't do that. If I let up, this whole company will fall apart.

Mr. Harding: Then I wish you the best of luck. I always look forward to the release of a new Glenn Beck book. And I know his many loyal followers are grateful for your dedication.

Jess notices Reginald standing by, listening

Jess Thomas: I don’t believe I’ve made your acquaintance. I’m Jess Thomas, publisher and occasional much-needed spur for Mr. Beck. I didn’t mean to get caught up talking shop, but it seems like sometimes that's all I can think about.

Reginald: It's not a problem at all Miss Thomas. It's a pleasure to meet you. I am Reginald Winchester, World’s Greatest Living Detective. As Glenn Beck's publisher, I assume you know him well?

Jess Thomas: Yes. I mean, I'm sure that there are plenty people that know him better, but I have spent some time with him.

Mr. Harding: (Theatrically) And the award for "Understatement of the Year" goes to...

Reginald: As someone who has spent "some time" with Mr. Beck, do you share Mr. Harding's opinion?

Jess Thomas: I don’t follow you. What opinion?

Reginald: That something is up. That a mystery is afoot. Mr. Harding told me that he noted a most mischievous glint in Mr. Beck's eyes upon our arrival. Would you concur?

Mr. Harding: I didn't say it was a mischievous glint. I believe I characterized it as a gleam.

Jess Thomas: Glenn always has a glint in his eyes. The man is constantly chasing after the next big story, and he'll never be satisfied, no matter how big a story he finds himself a part of.

Mr. Harding: You’re certainly right there, Jess. But you must admit, it’s his constant digging that really draws in his audience. And irritates his opponents.

Ms. Fischer escorts Gary Lexington into the dining room.

Ms. Fischer: You can wait with the other guests in here, Sgt. Jacobs. Mr. Beck will be up as soon as Mrs. Axelrod arrives.

Gary Lexington: Thank you. I hope he’s up soon. I’m so anxious to meet him.

Ms. Fischer leaves

Gary Lexington: (Oblivious to everyone around) Wow. I'm actually in Glenn Beck's house. And there's his chalk board. With his own chalk marks. And, can it be? Glenn's direct hot-line to the White House. It's more wonderful than I imagined. Glenn Beck has stood in this very room! He may even have breathed this very air!

Mr. Harding: (Taps the shoulder of Gary Lexington, who jumps) Sgt. Jacobs? Sgt. Dan Jacobs? (Gary Lexington nods) It is an honor, sir. I can't tell you how anxious I've been to meet you. I’ve had to listen to Glenn rave about you for weeks!

Gary Lexington: (embarrassed) Oh? Yes, well, I guess I've raved a bit about him too.

Mr. Harding: Jess, did you know we'd have a genuine war hero in our midst tonight?

Jess Thomas: Glenn didn't tell me anything. (to Gary) Sir, I would just like to echo Justin's appreciation for what you've been through. You are an inspiration for all Americans.

Gary Lexington: It's nothing, really. All in a soldier’s work. I don’t want any special recognition. I did what anyone else would have done for his country.

Mr. Harding: Nonsense, you're a hero. But how rude of me. I should introduce myself. I'm Justin Harding, CEO of Critical Armaments.

Jess Thomas: And I'm Jess Thomas, Glenn's publishing liaison. I have to tell you, when I heard about all of the ordeals that you went through, I pictured you very differently. Isn't that silly?

Gary Lexington: I get that a lot, believe it or not. It's odd, isn't it, how people never look the way we imagine them?

Mr. Harding: Sergeant, you have to let me show you around the wonder’s of Mr. Beck’s art collection.

Reginald: One moment, please. I am Reginald Winchester, the World’s Greatest Living Detective, (Mr. Harding and Jess Thomas exchange glances) and I have question for you, Sgt. Jacobs.

Gary Lexington: (scared) What? I haven’t done anything wrong.

Jess Thomas: Easy there, Sergeant. I don’t think Mr. Winchester is accusing you of anything.

Reginald: Not at all. It’s just that we seem to have a mystery afoot. Mr. Beck has been suspected of being up to something. I merely wanted to know whether the Sergeant also shared that suspicion. Did Mr. Beck seem in any way unusual to you, Sergeant?

Gary Lexington: Well, I didn’t actually get to see Mr. Beck when I arrived. The maid escorted me up here right away, and I've yet to see Glenn, though I am very anxious to meet him. So, in answer to your question, I have absolutely no idea. Who suggested things weren't right?

Mr. Harding: That would be me.

Reginald: (interrupting) I noticed it too.

Mr. Harding: Err, yes. Anyhow, it seems to have sparked some very strong interest in our detective friend here. It’s probably much ado about nothing. Now, Detective Winchester, is the good Sergeant free to explore Mr. Beck’s wonderful art collection with me?

Reginald: (oblivious to Mr. Harding’s sarcasm) Yes, you may go about your business. I see no reason to detain you at the moment.

Mr. Harding guides Gary Lexington out of the room

Reginald: So, Miss Thomas, you say that Mr. Beck is working on a book?

Jess Thomas: That's right. And we're hoping for another bestseller. He's working on the second manuscript at the moment. We already have his first draft, but Glenn said he felt that the recent developments in the Middle East required some re-working of a few chapters. Of course, if I let him rewrite his books every time the situation in the Middle East changed, he’d never complete more than a page.

Reginald: What is the subject of Mr. Glenn’s new book?

Jess Thomas: Well, before the re-write it was focusing on how war impacts people. He covered the history of American warfare, looking at how people became heroes and villains. I think it’s his best work yet. In fact, and I hope Glenn doesn't mind me telling you this, Sgt. Jacobs is featured quite prominently. Glenn holds him up as a classic example of raw courage in the face of overwhelming terror. It really is, or rather that draft was, bound for record-breaking sales.

Reginald: You think the re-write will change that?

Jess Thomas: No. Though with Glenn one never can tell. He promised me his new draft would be merely supplemental, so I’m hoping that it won’t significantly alter the focus. It's just that sometimes he doesn't know when to leave well enough alone. That's why we're always behind schedule with Glenn's books.

Reginald: And what are you doing to keep things on schedule?

Jess Thomas: We just have to work with what we've already got, and hope that we don't guess wrong. We’ve already started writing up the ad copy and arranging cover art, because that shouldn't change much before the launch. But enough about my problems. What brings (finger quotes) “the world’s greatest living detective” to our midst?

Reginald: A detective should not reveal too much, I'm afraid. It seems to me that if Mr. Beck has not seen fit to inform you, then perhaps it is better that you don’t know.

Jess Thomas: That’s rather mysterious. Do you really believe that something suspicious is going on here tonight?

Reginald: There is no doubt about it. When you’ve had as much experience at detective work as I have, you acquire a sixth sense for these things. A mystery is afoot, and I, Reginald Winchester, the World's Greatest Living Detective have been called upon to find the solution.

Jess Thomas: Yes, I had been meaning to ask about that. Do you really introduce yourself to everyone as “the world greatest living detective”?

Reginald: And why shouldn’t I? I feel that people should be immediately apprised of whom they deal with.

Jess Thomas: But who decided that you were the greatest detective? Couldn't it be someone else? Are there rankings? Do you have some detective voting club? What criteria does one consider when deciding on what sets one detective apart from another. It would seem to be rather subjective, wouldn't it?

Reginald: I can see your confusion, not being a detective yourself. You see, when you are the world’s greatest living detective, you can tell. Naturally, most people don't understand this, which is precisely why I must make it known. Humility has no place in detective work. All the great detectives will tell you that.

Jess Thomas: Is that so? And who do you consider to be great detectives?

Reginald: You are still speaking as though it were a matter of one's opinion. It is not. Rather, a professional such as myself, when judging the work of other detectives, can quickly discern his or her ability, in a completely objective measure.

Jess Thomas: Alright then, who have you measured as the greatest detectives?

Reginald: Perhaps the greatest detectives, sadly now deceased, were the great Hercule Poirot and Sherlock Holmes. I have modeled my technique after theirs, though I have long since surpassed them.

Jess Thomas: You model yourself after fictional detectives, then?

Reginald: Fictional? I run into that misconception from those outside the field quite a lot, actually.

Jess Thomas: But they were fictional. The Hercule Poirot series was written by Agatha Christie, and the Sherlock Holmes stories were written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

Reginald: I ask you, miss, could fictional characters have unraveled such well known and complicated cases such as the ABC Murders or the Sign of Four?

Jess Thomas: (slightly alarmed) Really, Mr. Winchester, you do take your jokes too far. Of course they could, as those very cases are themselves fictional.

Reginald: I guess there is nothing to be gained in further efforts to raise you from your self-imposed ignorance. After this evening's mystery has been brought to a close we'll see who is fictional!

Jess Thomas: (backing away) Oh... Well, I really ought to go, umm, touch up my make-up before dinner starts. It was nice meeting you.

Jess hurries from the room, leaving Reginald alone to ponder

Reginald: So, Mr. Beck thinks he'll surprise the World's Greatest Living Detective with a mystery, does he? Ha! The man has woefully underestimated my mental capacity. But what mystery? Perhaps a rare item from his art collection has be purloined. Or maybe it has something to do with our guests gathered here tonight. A rather unusual group so far. The soldier, the weapons manufacturer, and the publisher. And of course myself. Ah, Mr. Beck, you spin quite a web of possibilities, but you shall not catch me off my guard. No matter the mystery that glint or gleam or whatever it was that Mr. Harding saw in your eyes may portend, be assured that Reginald Winchester will draw it out. (pacing as he ponders)

Ah! The manuscript, that is the key. Perhaps the newest manuscript of his novel has been stolen. Yes, that must be it. Oh Mr. Beck, why do you try to conceal such things from me, for you see that I have already uncovered your mystery. But is the thief among the guests? The publisher, perhaps. She is a flighty sort. Stealing the book from Glenn before he can rewrite it and mess up her advertising copy, perhaps. Or maybe the soldier. Perhaps he didn't want to be included in Mr. Beck's book. Those military types are very peculiar about secrecy sometimes. Or the weapons maker. He did say he was anxious to read it. Perhaps he found he couldn't wait any longer and decided to make off with it. Yes, all likely suspects.

Caitlin Axelrod enters the room, and looks around, but Reginald doesn't notice

Reginald: Or it could be that maid. No one ever suspects the maid, which makes her a very likely suspect. And the maid said that another guest would be coming. Another possible suspect. And late, nonetheless. That is clearly a mark of guilt. Even had a suspicious name... What was that? Wheelspoke...? Tirepole...?

Mrs. Axelrod: (interrupting) Would that be Axelrod?

Reginald: Yes, that was the name. Thank you. Axelrod. Mrs. Axelrod. A very suspicious one, she is.

Mrs. Axelrod: Really? What is she suspected of?

Reginald: This is a confidential matter.

Mrs. Axelrod: You can count on me not to tell anyone. Maybe if you tell me about it, I can help you confirm your suspicions.

Reginald: Very well. I suspect that she may be the villain behind the theft of the manuscript of Glenn Beck's newest book.

Mrs. Axelrod: Really? Well, that would figure. I've heard people say the most dreadful things about Mrs. Axelrod.

Reginald: (Intrigued) Have you?

Mrs. Axelrod: Oh yes. From what I've heard, and don't tell anyone I told you, (stage whisper) she is a most terrible liar and a most disreputable Neanderthal. And that's only the parts that I can repeat.

Reginald: (Pleased with his deduction) Well, that seals it then. Thank you for your assistance Miss...?

Mrs. Axelrod: It's Missus, actually – Mrs. Caitlin Axelrod, at your service. (Reginald is rendered speechless for the first time that evening) I take it you are Reginald Winchester. Glenn has told me all about you.

Reginald: Has he now? (Reginald pauses and straightens his tie) So, tell me, Mrs. Axelrod, why did you steal Mr. Beck's manuscript?

Mrs. Axelrod: (Partially to herself) And I guess Glenn wasn't exaggerating. (To Reginald) Mr. Winchester, I have not stolen, touched, or even seen Glenn's manuscript. He told me he would be sending a copy for me to proofread a couple of weeks ago, but he's been terribly busy. In fact, since Glenn mentioned nothing about his manuscript being stolen, I can only assume that it is still safely in Glenn's possession.

Reginald: (Scoffing) Mrs. Axelrod, please leave the detective work to those who are qualified. Of course Mr. Beck's manuscript has been stolen. It's the only thing that explains the current...

Ms. Fischer screams off-stage. Reginald and Mrs. Axelrod stare toward the door. A second later, Ms. Fischer comes running through the door, completely hysterical. She collapses on the floor, sobbing frantically

Mrs. Axelrod: (Alarmed) Ms. Fisher! What's wrong?

Ms. Fischer: (Unable to speak through her sobs, until she runs out of breath) Mr. Beck! He... (Breaks into more sobs)

Reginald: Yes, his manuscript has been stolen, but have no fear, I already know the culprit!

Both Ms. Fischer and Mrs. Axelrod stare at Reginald uncomprehendingly.

Ms. Fischer: He's dead.

Mrs. Axelrod: Oh, is that all... Therese, I'd hope you know better than that. Remember, he did the same thing at the New Years Eve party two years ago.

Mrs. Fischer: I know, Ma'am, but it's for real this time...

Jess Thomas runs into the room, almost falling in her high-heels.

Jess Thomas: What was that scream?

Mrs. Axelrod: Glenn is dead, apparently.

Jess Thomas: That trick again?

Mrs. Fischer: It's not a trick. There's a knife buried in his chest!

Gary Lexington and Mr. Harding run into the room together.

Mr. Harding: Okay, what's going on in here? (Sees Ms. Fischer crying on the floor) Ms. Fischer, are you alright?

Mrs. Fischer: Mr. Beck is dead! Murdered!

Gary Lexington: No! It can't be! I never even got a chance to see him in person! (He trails off, murmuring woefully)

Jess Thomas: Sgt. Jacobs, this is probably just one of Glenn's tricks. He pulled something similar at the New Years Eve party where he choked to death on a piece of shrimp.

Reginald: I will go check the body at once. The rest of you, remain here.

Reginald leaves the room hurriedly, and re-enters a second later.

Reginald: Where did you say Mr. Beck's body was?

Ms. Fischer: The north hall. (chokes down a sob) Off of the main lobby.

Reginald leaves again. Mrs. Axelrod helps Ms. Fischer to her feet. Jess Thomas pulls tissues from her purse. Gary Lexington is still murmuring to himself.

Mrs. Axelrod: There, there, Ms. Fischer, I'm sure it's just another of Glenn's stupid jokes.

Jess Thomas: Yes, I'm sure that's all it is. (to herself) He really has gone too far this time. I don't know what is with that man sometimes. (notices Gary Lexington still crying) You'd think a military veteran would handle the stress a bit better.

Mr. Harding: Honestly, Jess, have a heart. The man has already been through so much. Imagine how you'd feel, finally safely back in the United States, away from the constant dangers of war, only to find that a murder has been committed.

Mr. Harding walks over to Gary Lexington.

Mr. Harding: Come on, Sgt. Jacobs, pull yourself together. If anything has happened, each of us will need to be as calm as possible, and as Jess has pointed out, Glenn has tried this sort of thing in the past. Detective Winchester will soon find out the truth.

Mrs. Axelrod: (Laughs suddenly) Of course, at all makes sense now. I can't believe Glenn didn't let you in on the joke, Justin.

Mr. Harding: Joke? What joke?

Jess Thomas: (To Mrs. Axelrod) Caitlin! You mean you knew the whole time that Glenn was planning this, and you didn't say anything!

Mrs. Axelrod: Not this. I mean, it probably is a part of Glenn's joke, now that I think about it. But I was referring to Reginald Winchester, the World's Greatest Living Detective.

Jess Thomas: Oh, that man is dreadful. Do you know what he said to me when we were alone in here?

Mr. Harding: (Scandalized) Why I had no idea Mr. Winchester was that sort. He seemed so upright.

Jess Thomas: Oh, it was nothing like that. He said that Sherlock Holmes and Hercule...

Reginald enters abruptly, carrying a bloody knife. Everyone stares at him.

Reginald: Murder has been done here! Mr. Beck was stabbed through the heart with this very knife.

Gary Lexington screams.

Jess Thomas: Okay, enough of this stupid joke.

Ms. Fischer: It's not a joke, Miss. I hadn't forgotten Mr. Beck's penchant for tricks. In fact, serving in this house I dare say I know it better than any of you. When I first saw Mr. Beck, I thought that's what it was. But then I got closer and saw the blood seeping from his chest, and his face, it was... (She stops talking, to gather her composure. The rest wait expectantly.) It was horrible. And there was blood already gathering on the tile. I know death when I see it, Miss...

Jess Thomas: Oh, Ms. Fischer, I'm so sorry. It's just that, if this was a real murder, certainly Mr. Winchester wouldn't be standing there with the murder weapon.

Reginald: Detective Winchester. (emphasizes "Detective") And why wouldn't I have the murder weapon? It is my duty as a detective to investigate this case fully.

Jess Thomas: But you're getting your fingerprints all over it!

Reginald: Oh, is that what you're worried about. Have no fear about that. (He quickly pulls his handkerchief from his vest pocket and wipes the handle clean.) There. It's as good as new.

Jess Thomas: You just wiped away the murder's fingerprints! Don't you know anything about forensics?

Reginald: Please, Miss Thomas, I know everything about forensics. Why I'll have you know that I have every CSI box set, including CSI:Miami and CSI:New York. I even bought one of those little blue lights that makes guilty people glow in the dark.

Jess Thomas: Uhh... Maybe you should run home and get it then.

Reginald: And leave all of you alone in the presence of a murderer? I think not.

Jess Thomas: He didn't seem to mind killing Glenn while you were around!

Reginald: Miss Thomas, I assure you that had Glenn Beck remained in my presence, he would still be alive. Even now, I will find his killer and give Mr. Beck the justice he deserves!

Jess Thomas: That's it, I'm calling the police. (pulls out her cell phone)

Reginald: The police? They will only make a mess of the evidence and let the criminal escape.

Jess Thomas: You mean they'll do what you're doing?

Reginald: I understand that you are frightened, Miss Thomas, but please try to contain your outbursts. Now tell me, why do you think the murderer is a man?

Jess Thomas: (stunned momentarily at the sudden subject change) What are you talking about?

Reginald: You said "he didn't seem to mind killing Glenn", so I ask why you think the murderer is a man.

Jess Thomas: I don't know. I didn't really think anything of it. Murder just seems like something that a man would do.

Mr. Harding: Jess, you're not honestly suggesting that Sgt. Jacobs or myself murdered Glenn?

Jess Thomas: That's not what I meant.

Reginald: Or perhaps you were trying to direct the blame away from yourself. I note that you were alone for a long time before Mr. Beck's body was discovered.

Jess Thomas: What!

Mrs. Axelrod: Detective Winchester (She emphasizes "Detective"), I think perhaps you're getting a bit ahead of yourself. Doesn't it seem more likely that one of the house staff, or perhaps someone from the outside committed this crime?

Ms. Fischer: Oh no, Ma'am, it couldn't be anyone in the staff. They've been over in the east wing all afternoon preparing the meal. And Mr. Beck has been keeping the gates locked so that no one can get in.

Gary Lexington: Really? Then who is that in the bushes down there?

Everyone runs to the window.

Mr. Harding: Hey!

Mr. Harding runs from the room, with the rest of the party close behind.

Act II: Motives

Reginald Winchester and Mr. Harding enter the room, dragging Tabitha Reed between them. The rest of the group files in after them.

Mr. Harding: Well, Reginald, I think we've found your culprit.

Jess Thomas: Can I call the police now?

Reginald: Miss Thomas, please, give me a moment to question the suspect. (Turning to Tabitha Reed and pulling a small notepad from his pocket) What is your name?

Tabitha Reed: My name is “Go oppress the poor, you ignorant fascist!”

Reginald: I should warn you that anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.

Tabitha Reed: You’re a cop?

Reginald: I am Reginald Winchester, the world’s Greatest Living Detective.

Tabitha Reed: Well I’ve never heard of you.

Reginald: (Writing in notebook, speaking aloud to himself) Suspect is female, uncooperative, and uneducated, possibly illiterate.

Tabitha Reed: Uneducated! I’ll have you know that I graduated at the top of my class at Berkeley, with a dual major in Political Science and Economics!

Mrs. Axelrod: And that’s why you murdered Glenn?

Tabitha Reed: I didn’t murder any – Wait? He’s dead? Thank God! (Looks around sheepishly) I mean, if there was a God... Which there isn’t.

Reginald: Tell me, then, do you have an alibi for the past thirty minutes?

Tabitha Reed: An alibi? I’ve been hiding in the bushes watching the indulgence of the Bourgeoisie. Check Foursquare. I’ve been logged in as Mayor of Glenn Beck’s bushes for the past six hours.

Jess Thomas: That doesn’t prove anything! You could have stayed checked in out there while sneaking inside to murder Glenn.

Tabitha Reed: And leave my iPad defenseless?

Reginald: Well, that makes two people (makes a point of indicating Jess Thomas) who don’t have alibis. Mrs. Fischer, was anyone with you when you discovered the body?

Mrs. Fischer: No, Mr. (stern look from Reginald) err, Detective Winchester.

Reginald: Make that three people who don’t have alibis for the murder.

Mr. Harding: Really now, Detective Winchester, Mrs. Fischer has been a faithful employee of Glenn’s for years. I hardly think she’s likely to have harmed the man.

Reginald: And what about you, Mr. Harding. Do you have an alibi for the past half-hour?

Mr. Harding: I certainly do. You and I both saw Glenn alive when we came in. Since that time, until this very moment, I have been in the presence of either yourself or Sgt. Jacobs.

Reginald: Is that true, Sgt. Jacobs?

Gary Lexington: Yes. Well, I mean, mostly. We were together most of the time, but there was this one rather dreadful picture that Mr. Harding stood looking at for a few minutes, and he said I could look around for myself, so I went to look at to the rest of the gallery. (notices Reginald's accusing glare) But we weren’t apart for more than five minutes.

Reginald: Five people who don’t have alibis. Mrs. Axelrod, care to tell us where you’ve been the past half-hour that had you running late?

Mrs. Axelrod: It was traffic, if you must know. There was a bus crash and I had to take a longer detour. After I was admitted through the main gate, I came inside and didn’t see Glenn, or anyone else, until I found you here in this room.

Reginald: So, we have six suspects.

Jess Thomas: Suspects? You can’t be serious.

Reginald: I am absolutely serious. I will discover who is behind this villainous act, and bring the guilty party to justice.

Jess Thomas: And what about you, Mr. Smarty Pants? What is your alibi?

Reginald: Miss Thomas, I am above suspicion.

Mr. Harding: Hey, fair is fair. Do you have an alibi, Detective Winchester?

Reginald: Since the time I entered this house until Glenn was discovered murdered, I have not left this room. Each one of you, except for you (indicates Tabitha Reed), can verify a part of that.

Mrs. Axelrod: And what about the time you spent here without anyone being with you. When I walked in, you were all alone. Couldn’t you have snuck out, murdered Glenn, and gotten back in here before anyone noticed?

Reginald: (indicates audience) All of these people can verify that I have been here the whole time. (changing the subject) I should like to question each one of you. Each of you had the opportunity to murder Mr. Beck. Now we must determine who had the motive.

Mr. Harding: Well that’s obvious enough. (nods toward Tabitha)

Tabitha Reed: Don’t you try to pin this on me!

Reginald: Everyone, please calm down. Only by a systematic application of logic can we find the culprit.

Jess Thomas: (to Mrs. Axelrod) Yeah, since he destroyed all the evidence.

Reginald: Now, before we begin, are any of you armed?

Mrs. Axelrod: This is a dinner party.

Reginald: Of course. (to Tabitha Reed) And what about you?

Tabitha Reed: I do not own a gun, and I abhor violence.

Mrs. Axelrod: Except for the violent overthrow of the rich and powerful.

Tabitha Reed: That's entirely different.

Reginald: So, what you’re saying is that none of you are carrying weapons of any kind?

The other guests nod or signal affirmation

Reginald: Always best to be sure. Now then, let us begin the questioning. I think it would be best to start with our most recent acquaintance. (points at Tabitha Reed) Please take a seat.

Tabitha sits down in the chair. Reginald pulls out his notepad again, and walks around the chair.

Reginald: Now, let’s begin with a simple question. What is your name? (Tabitha Reed does not answer) We know the names of everyone else here. I’d rather not have to dig through your bag to find your ID. What is your name?

Tabitha Reed: Tabitha Reed.

Reginald: And tell me, Miss Reed, what brings you to Mr. Beck’s home?

Tabitha Reed: I’m gathering information for my doctoral thesis.

Reginald: At Berkeley?

Tabitha Reed: Yes.

Reginald: And what, in particular, were you researching?

Tabitha Reed: I am studying how the super-rich control the masses through their puppets, like Glenn Beck.

Reginald: Would you characterize yourself as someone who had a great interest in seeing Glenn Beck live a long and prosperous life?

Tabitha Reed: As far as I’m concerned, I think a great good has been done for mankind. Glenn Beck will no longer be able to spread his venom across the globe.

Reginald: Thank you, Miss Reed. That will be all for now. (Tabitha Reed gets out of the chair) Miss Thomas, I think you should be next.

Jess Thomas: Oh, alright. (sits in chair)

Reginald: Tell me, where did you go after you left this room?

Jess Thomas: I told you, I went to the bathroom to touch up my make-up.

Reginald: I don’t see any difference.

Jess Thomas: It’s not about making a difference, detective. It’s about making sure everything is still okay.

Reginald: The reason I ask, Miss Thomas, is because you left here rather hurriedly. Perhaps you realized that you were running short on time to run down to the main hall and murder Mr. Beck?

Jess Thomas: First of all, detective, I couldn’t run anywhere in these shoes. Secondly, if you must know, the reason why I was in such a hurry to leave was because I couldn’t bear to be in the room with you any longer.

Reginald: Due to your guilty conscience?

Jess Thomas: Actually, it's because I'm reasonably sure that you are mentally unhinged.

Mrs. Axelrod: As a matter of fact...

Reginald: (speaking over Mrs. Axelrod) Unhinged? Your feeble attempt to hide your guilt is not serving you well. Tell me, Miss Thomas, what reason do you have for wanting Glenn Beck dead?

Jess Thomas: What? No reason at all! Glenn and I had a very good relationship, and I'm sure his next book will do wonders for our company.

Tabitha Reed: (reading from iPad) "Sources suggest that the yet-untitled book will be his last with his present publisher, as Beck continues moves to make Mercury Ink a publishing company in its own right."

Jess Thomas: Yes, Glenn had mentioned he would like to try self-publishing, but I'd hardly murder him over it.

Tabitha Reed: (continues reading) "It is rumored that his current publisher made only a meager profit from Beck's last offering due to a decline in readership, as the excitement of Beck's meteoric rise has worn thin over the past year. Some early estimates suggest that his upcoming book could actually result in a loss for his publisher if their fixed costs remains the same. Mercury Ink will be able to greatly offset the publishing cost, allowing more profit on future releases."

Reginald: Please, I need silence in order to concentrate. (pauses for a few seconds) Miss Thomas, would you say that Mr. Beck's death is likely to increase the sales of his last book?

Jess Thomas: I see where you're going with this, but you're crazy. I wouldn't kill Glenn even to keep my company from going bankrupt.

Reginald: We shall see. That is all for now. Mr. Harding, would you please take a seat?

Jess Thomas and Mr. Harding quickly swap seats.

Reginald: Mr. Harding, you commented to me when we entered earlier that you thought Mr. Beck was "up to something". Those were your words, were they not?

Mr. Harding: Yes, I did say that. He was in one of his "I've got a secret" moods. From his manner, I would say that he had something big up his sleeve that he was anxious to reveal.

Reginald: And what do you think it was?

Mr. Harding: Really, I couldn't say. Glenn always has something in the works. Knowing Glenn, he might have been preparing a "Restoring Faithfulness" rally in San Francisco.

Reginald: So you don't think it was in any way related to the people invited here tonight?

Mr. Harding: It's possible, though what it might have been I can't imagine.

Reginald: Very well. Tell me, what were you doing during the time you were separated from Sgt. Jacobs?

Mr. Harding: Oh that. Glenn has recently added a most arresting new art piece to his collection. I suppose the graphic depictions of battle are a bit too much for the good Sergeant to handle just yet, but I find it very enthralling. I just let my eyes wander over it, directed by the strokes of the brush. I get drawn into the scene and time seems to stand still. You really must come see it some time.

Reginald: Yes, of course. Well, I think that's about all...

Tabitha Reed: (interrupting) Why don't you ask Mr. Justin Harding what line of work he's in?

Mr. Harding: Does she need to be here?

Tabitha Reed: I'll tell you. He's a mass murderer. He's killed hundreds, thousands, of people. What's one more man's blood on his hands?

Mr. Harding: I'm a weapons manufacturer. I supply our brave men and women with the tools they need to protect themselves and carry out the objectives of the United States of America. It's something I doubt you ever covered in college, but a show of force is necessary to maintain peace and stability in the world.

Tabitha Reed: You mean wholesale slaughter.

Reginald: Please, Miss Reed, calm down. Mr. Harding, what was your relationship to Glenn Beck?

Mr. Harding: Glenn was a supporter of my charitable work. He had me on his show about a month ago to give his listeners a chance to send financial support to help wounded veterans.

Gary Lexington: I saw that episode. I even sent in a contribution.

Mr. Harding: Wow, I had no idea. I didn't even realize you were back in the States at that time.

Gary Lexington: Yes, well... someone taped it and sent it to me.

Mr. Harding: Of course. I'm glad to have your support, Sgt. Jacobs. Maybe you'd consider appearing in some of our promotional materials? I can see it now: "I'm not only a veteran, I'm a supporter." Or something like that. We can let the advertising people work out the details.

Gary Lexington: I'll, umm, have to think about it.

Reginald: If we may return to the subject, would you say that you and Mr. Beck were on good terms?

Mr. Harding: Very much so.

Reginald: No disagreements or underlying resentments?

Mr. Harding: None that I am aware of.

Reginald: That is all for now. Mrs. Axelrod, would you please take a seat?

Mr. Harding gets up, but Mrs. Axelrod remains standing.

Mrs. Axelrod: I had nothing against Glenn, I know him because we're both in the radio business and frequently swap stories. Is that all?

Reginald: Please, take a seat.

Mrs. Axelrod: I'm really not a fan of having people hover over me, if you must know.

Reginald: It is part of detective's job to hover. Now sit down.

Mrs. Axelrod reluctantly sits.

Reginald: What do you do in the "radio business", Mrs. Axelrod?

Mrs. Axelrod: I currently host the early morning show.

Reginald: And as a radio hostess, do you appreciate the value of punctuality?

Mrs. Axelrod: I told you, there was a bus crash.

Gary Lexington: It's true, I heard about it on the radio as I was driving up. Of course, I came from the south, so it didn't really affect me.

Reginald: (annoyed at being interrupted) Yes. Thank you, Sgt. Jacobs. Mrs. Axelrod, would you characterize your relationship with Glenn Beck as "friendly".

Mrs. Axelrod: Very. Glenn was a great guy, and we talked frequently. In fact, I talked with him this morning.

Reginald: And did Glenn seem anxious in any way?

Mrs. Axelrod: Glenn is always anxious. He thinks that if he lets up for even an instant the President will set fire to the Constitution. I didn't notice that anything seemed out of the ordinary. Though he did say to expect the unexpected tonight.

Jess Thomas: Well he was certainly right about that.

Tabitha Reed: (reading from iPad) "Caitlin Axelrod was moved from the nine to noon block to the early morning show when her local station began syndicating the Glenn Beck program."

Mrs. Axelrod: Yes, and I've done very well there.

Tabitha Reed: (continues reading) "Her 'I will kill Glenn Beck with my bare hands' segment is one of the most popular. In it, Axelrod recounts methods of how she will personally murder Glenn Beck for forcing her out of her time slot."

Mrs. Axelrod: That was a joke. I was really upset the first morning I had to get up at 3 AM and I said some rather unkind things about Glenn, and they got picked up on the internet. Before I knew it, people were tuning in from all over the country to hear it. I never meant I would really murder him! It was just a gimmick.

Reginald: Mrs. Axelrod, when you arrived at Mr. Beck's house this evening, did you come directly to this room.

Mrs. Axelrod: I'd just been stuck in traffic for two hours. Of course I didn't come directly to this room.

Reginald: Did you notice anything unusual when you passed through the lobby?

Mrs. Axelrod: Nothing.

Reginald: Very well then. Sgt. Jacobs, would you be so good as to take a seat.

Mrs. Axelrod quickly gets out of the seat, and Gary Lexington sits down, as close to the edge as he can get.

Reginald: Sgt. Jacobs, what did you do in the time that you were separated from Mr. Harding?

Gary Lexington: Not much really. I wandered though the art gallery. I don't really know that much about art, but if Glenn likes them, then I thought I should give them a try.

Reginald: You seemed very anxious to meet Mr. Beck. Have you never met before?

Gary Lexington: Never. I love his show. I don't think I've ever missed an episode. I was so glad that I finally got my chance to see him, but then...

Reginald: If you have never met Glenn before, what brings you to this house tonight?

Gary Lexington: I received an invitation in the mail...

Mr. Harding: Please, detective. It's obvious why Glenn would want to honor a war hero like Sgt. Dan Jacobs. I really don't see why you're even questioning him about this.

Jess Thomas: (to Reginald) Yes, I told you, Sgt. Jacobs is featured in Glenn's new book. He couldn't have done this.

Reginald: But don't you see, that's exactly why I must question him. It's always the least likely person who is guilty. Now, Sgt. Jacobs, tell me everything you did since you arrived at Mr. Beck's house today.

Gary Lexington: Let's see. (thinking back) I pulled into the lot by the other cars, and I walked up the walkway to the main doors. They were already propped open, so I walked in.

Reginald: (interrupting) And did you see anyone during this time?

Gary Lexington: No one. Though at the time it didn't occur to me to examine the bushes.

Reginald: No sign of anyone at all?

Gary Lexington: Well, I thought I heard some loud voices as I was walking up to the house, but when I entered the main lobby there was no one around. Then she (indicating Ms. Fischer) appeared and brought me up to this room. After that...

Reginald: (interrupting) Yes, we know what happened after that.

Tabitha Reed: (to Gary Lexington) What is your birth date?

Gary Lexington: What?

Tabitha Reed: Your birth date. Month and year will be sufficient.

Gary Lexington: I really don't see what that has to do... Sometime in the fall. I don't really keep track...

Mr. Harding: Quite right. Silly things to waste your mental capacity on...

Tabitha Reed: Okay, where were you born?

Gary Lexington: Dowelltown, Kentucky?

Tabitha Reed: Actually, that's where you moved after your first tour of duty. You were born in Auburn, Washington. You really should have studied your Wikipedia page more closely.

Ms. Fischer: You can't believe everything you read on Wikipedia, you know.

Tabitha Reed: But these have sources! Now, would you like to explain why you look nothing like the picture of Sgt. Jacobs on this site?

Gary Lexington: That picture was taken a long time ago.

Tabitha Reed: According to the date, it was taken June 2011.

Reginald: Miss Reed, that is quite enough. (to Gary Lexington) I have my reasons for suspecting that you may be an impostor.

Frustrated sighs from everyone else in the room

Reginald: An impostor sent here under false pretenses to murder Glenn Beck!

Gary Lexington: No! I wouldn't. Glenn is, was, no, is my greatest hero!

Reginald: Then explain your presence here.

Gary Lexington: Well, you see, I'm not Sgt. Jacobs.

Tabitha Reed: No kidding.

Gary Lexington: I'm his mail-carrier, Gary Lexington. (removes eye patch) I've been a fan of Glenn Beck's program for years, but every chance I've had to see him in person has been frustrated in one way or another. Tonight is merely the closing act of that perverse tragedy. (pauses sadly) Anyhow, when I saw the invitation in Sgt. Jacobs' mail, I thought my opportunity had finally come.

Mrs. Axelrod: You never stopped to think what would happen when Glenn realized that you weren't Sgt. Jacobs?

Gary Lexington: It didn't matter. I just wanted to be able to say that I had seen him face-to-face. And now I never will. (breaks into tears)

Reginald: Now, who is left? (Looks at guests, finally notices Ms. Fischer) Ms. Fischer, I don't believe we've heard from you.

Ms. Fischer moves beside the chair that Gary Lexington is still sitting in

Reginald: Sgt,... Err, Mr. Lexington, would you please rise so that Ms. Fischer may have a seat?

Gary Lexington: Oh yes, I'm sorry.

Gary Lexington quickly leaves the seat, and Ms. Fischer sits down

Reginald: Ms. Fischer, how long have you been Mr. Beck's housekeeper?

Ms. Fischer: Five years, sir.

Reginald: In your time here, has Mr. Beck ever been murdered before tonight?

Ms. Fischer: Oh no, sir! This is the first time.

Reginald: Would you characterize yourself as shocked at Mr. Beck's sudden demise?

Ms. Fischer: Yes sir. Very much so.

Reginald: You would not have said that Glenn Beck was the sort of man someone would murder?

Ms. Fischer: No, sir. That is, I know that Mr. Beck isn't the most popular man with some people (warily eyes Tabitha Reed), but I never thought it would end like this.

Reginald: Who would you consider to be Mr. Beck's enemies?

Ms. Fischer: Personal enemies, I really don't know. He seemed to have some antagonism toward George Soros, Van Jones, and President Obama, but those were more professional enemies, if you will.

Reginald: Mr. Lexington here, if he is to be believed, said that he heard loud voices when he entered, and that you appeared shortly thereafter. Did you also hear those voices?

Ms. Fischer: Oh, that was probably just Mr. Beck and myself. He can, could, be a very difficult man sometimes. We were having a small disagreement when I heard the entryway bell ring.

Reginald: (to Gary Lexington) You didn't mention anything about ringing the doorbell.

Gary Lexington: I didn't. I just walked in.

Ms. Fischer: Oh no, sir, it wasn't the doorbell. There's a motion detector that sounds a bell in the lounge if anyone enters. I heard that bell ring, and went to greet... (confused about what to call Gary Lexington) this man here. (points at Gary Lexington) That was the last time I saw Mr. Beck alive.

Reginald: And what, may I ask, was your disagreement with Mr. Beck about.

Ms. Fischer: Oh, it's such a silly little thing. I'd really rather not speak ill of the dead.

Reginald: Please, Ms. Fischer, I am a detective. Any piece of information could be a vital clue. I must know the substance of your argument.

Ms. Fischer: It wasn't hardly anything. It's just that Mr. Beck was suggesting that the recent unrest in northern Africa was the result of the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt spreading discontent, and I told him that any fool could see that it was actually the result of past French colonialism, and had begun well before the Arab Spring.

Reginald: Yes, well I'll certainly make a note of that. One more question, Ms. Fischer. (pulls knife from the table) Is this knife, the murder weapon of Glenn Beck, from your kitchen?

Ms. Fischer: (eyes the knife carefully) Yes. It was one of our butcher knives. We got a whole set like that, with the black wooden handle and the silver stripe.

Reginald: You're absolutely certain?

Ms. Fischer: Yes, sir.

Reginald: You said that the house staff was in the east wing preparing for tonight's dinner. Does that mean the kitchen was unattended?

Ms. Fischer: Yes, sir, everything was brought by a caterer.

Reginald: How long, in your opinion, would it take to travel from this room, to the kitchen, to the north hallway, and back to this room?

Ms. Fischer: Only a minute or two, if you didn't stop for anything.

Reginald: Thank you, Ms. Fischer. That will be all.

Jess Thomas: Can I call the police now?

Reginald: That will not be necessary. I know who the guilty party is.

The guests react in surprise

Reginald: (drawn out for dramatic effect) Mr. Beck was killed by the very same individual who stole his manuscript!

Mrs. Axelrod: That again?

Jess Thomas: His manuscript was stolen?

Mr. Harding: When did this happen?

Reginald: Please, calm down, all in good time. It came to me earlier this evening, when I was...

Mrs. Axelrod: His manuscript hasn't been stolen.

Reginald: Mrs. Axelrod, I am a detective. It's quite obvious to me that it has been stolen.

Mrs. Axelrod: When I talked with Glenn this morning, he mentioned that he'd just put the finishing touches on his new chapters. It has not been stolen.

Jess Thomas: Yes, I think Glenn would have mentioned it to me if his manuscript had disappeared. If nothing else, he might have said that anyway just to get more time.

Mrs. Axelrod: Detective Winchester, how would Glenn have known to invite you here last week, if the manuscript wasn't stolen until sometime after this morning?

Reginald: Do not propose to tell me how to do my job.

Mrs. Axelrod: Listen, I'll just run up to Glenn's office and get the manuscript and we can put this whole little matter to rest.

Reginald: Your deception won't work on me. The instant you're out of my sight, you'll make your escape. It's the oldest trick in the book.

Mrs. Axelrod: Okay, come along if you want.

Reginald: And risk leaving all of these good people alone with a murder! That would be against my duties as a detective.

Mrs. Axelrod: Then how about we all go together? Would that satisfy you, or are you just worried that I'll prove you wrong?

Reginald: Worried? Don't be silly. Let's go!

Everyone leaves the room.

Act III: Accusations

The cast returns, Mrs. Axelrod triumphantly grasping the manuscript.

Mrs. Axelrod: (shaking papers in Reginald's face) What do you say to these, (mockingly) Detective Winchester?

Reginald: The criminal undoubtedly covered his or her path by placing a fake manuscript in the office.

Mrs. Axelrod: Let me suggest an alternative theory: You... Were... Wrong... (sets papers on desk)

Reginald: This will simply make the case more difficult, but never fear, I still know who the murderer is.

Mrs. Axelrod: I sincerely doubt that. Miss Reed, what do you find when you search the internet for Reginald Winchester?

Tabitha Reed: (quickly searches) Nothing exact. A lot of different personal pages.

Mrs. Axelrod: No news stories?

Tabitha Reed: Nothing.

Mrs. Axelrod: Doesn't that strike you as odd? That "the World's Greatest Living Detective" is not featured in a single news story?

Reginald: It's not odd at all. Most of my high-profile cases have to be kept quiet. Murders in the royal family can't be leaked to the general public. It's a matter of national security.

Mrs. Axelrod: Perhaps I should tell all of you about my conversation with Glenn this morning.

Mr. Harding: I doubt we could stop you if we tried.

Mrs. Axelrod: As you all know, except possibly Miss Reed, Glenn was a great collector of curiosities. He always liked the unexpected, the unusual, and the bizarre. This morning, he said he had a great treat for us. An actor who played a detective.

Jess Thomas: Caitlin! You mean this whole thing is one big facade? You really had me believing that Glenn was dead!

Ms. Fischer: But he is dead! I saw it myself.

Mrs. Axelrod: Please, let me finish. This actor had been given the role of a great detective, and as training he locked himself away in a hotel room with every major fictional detective story ever written.

Jess Thomas: (interrupting) That explains a lot.

Mrs. Axelrod: The problem was, that after a while, this actor began to lose his attachment to reality.

Mr. Harding: You mean to say that all this time we've been in the presence of a madman!

Mrs. Axelrod: In a manner of speaking, though Glenn assured me that he is perfectly harmless.

Mr. Harding: Perfectly harmless, indeed.

Jess Thomas: Okay, now I'm really calling the police.

Reginald: The police! You're going to call in those bumblers and let them trample all over my case? Mrs. Axelrod, your attempt to discredit me was quite clever, but it won't work. All you have done is revealed yourself to be the killer!

Mrs. Axelrod: Really, and how did I do that?

Jess Thomas pulls out her cellphone and sneaks off to the side of the room to call the police

Reginald: First of all, your suspicious lateness! Murderers often have many other character flaws besides a disregard for human life. Yours is tardiness!

Mrs. Axelrod: There was an accident!

Reginald: You probably caused that too! (dramatic pause) Then, there is the matter of Mr. Beck's death! He was killed with a knife. Wouldn't you say that falls under killing Glenn Beck "with your bare hands"?

Mrs. Axelrod: Actually, I'd classify it as killing with a weapon...

Reginald: (ignoring her) And finally, the most incriminating evidence of all: You knew exactly where Glenn Beck kept his manuscript!

Mrs. Axelrod: The manuscript had nothing to do with the murder! Get that through your thick head!

Tabitha Reed: (to Gary Lexington) Any moment now he's going to declare that it was Colonel Mustard, in the Observatory, with the lead pipe.

Reginald: Mr. Beck was murdered in the north hallway, not the Observatory, and most definitely with a knife. Why has no one mentioned this Colonel Mustard before? I must question him at once!

Jess Thomas: (to anyone listening) The police are on their way.

Reginald: I told you not to call them!

Jess Thomas: Which seemed the best reason to do so. They might be able to salvage some information before you destroy every last piece of evidence.

Mr. Harding: You're all making this too complicated. One person in this room is an avowed enemy of Glenn's, believes in violence as a means to bring about needed change, and broke into Glenn's house. It doesn't take a great detective to connect those dots.

Tabitha Reed: What? This coming from the mass murder! I'm not the only person here tonight that shouldn't be here!

Gary Lexington: I told you, I would never hurt Glenn. He was my idol.

Tabitha Reed: Because crazy fans have never harmed their idol before...

Gary Lexington: But I...

Tabitha Reed: What happened? Did you decide to go find Glenn only to have him reject you?

Gary Lexington: What? No!

Tabitha Reed: He saw right away that you weren't Sgt. Jacobs and demanded that you leave. Did he threaten to call security?

Gary Lexington: That never happened!

Tabitha Reed: And then you stabbed him!

Gary Lexington: Don't try to pin this on me! You could easily have run in and killed Glenn yourself.

Tabitha Reed: Really? Then why didn't I run away afterwards? Why stay here to get caught?

Mr. Harding: I can answer that one. You couldn't get out. All of the gates were locked shut. You intended to wait until someone left, and sneak out through the main gate then. Too bad for you, Mr. Lexington here spotted you.

Tabitha Reed: Really, Mr. Mass Murderer? You seem eager to pin the blame on me. Got something to hide?

Jess Thomas: Cool it, all of you. The police will sort this all out, and it doesn't really matter who any of us thinks is the murderer.

Reginald: (shouts) I've got it!

Mrs. Axelrod: This ought to be good.

Reginald: It all makes complete sense once you think it through clearly. Who had the most to gain from the murder of Glenn Beck? Who was Glenn Beck's greatest enemy? Who had the resources to pull off a daring daylight murder and disappear without a trace.

Jess Thomas: I really don't see where...

Reginald: The murderer can be only one man: President Barack Obama!

The red hot-line phone rings. Reginald picks it up

Reginald: Hello? No? Delivering a speech before thousands of people? Okay. Have a nice evening, Mr. President. (hangs up phone) Of course, there may be another possible interpretation.

Jess Thomas: I don't want to talk about Glenn's murder anymore. Can't someone change the subject?

Mr. Harding: Sure, Jess. How are things in the publishing business?

Jess Thomas: I'm not going to lie, they're cut-throat, pardon the expression. With so many authors moving to self-publishing or e-books, it's getting harder and harder to make our bottom line.

Tabitha Reed: So would you say that the loss of Glenn Beck's book revenue would hurt your divisions?

Jess Thomas: Yes, it would have hurt a lot, but... Wait, I see what you're doing. We're not talking about the murder anymore!

Tabitha Reed: Of all the guests here, you're the one with the largest chunk of time unaccounted for. Plenty of time for a murder.

Jess Thomas: I was in the bathroom. (sarcastically) I'm so sorry I wasn't checked in as "Mayor of Glenn Beck's bathroom" on Foursquare.

Tabitha Reed: I really wouldn't believe someone would kill just to keep her job. And that only temporarily. Paper is a dead medium. Wake up and smell the information age.

Jess Thomas: I didn't kill Glenn, and I'm not talking about this anymore.

Tabitha Reed: Let me guess, you decided to skip the bathroom and went to beg Glenn to reconsider.

Jess Thomas: Not talking about this.

Tabitha Reed: Or maybe he decided to cancel his deal with you and take his current manuscript to Mercury Ink?

Jess Thomas: We had a contract!

Tabitha Reed: Is that why you killed him? Did he find a loophole in your precious contract?

Jess Thomas: I told you, I'm done with talking about this.

Tabitha Reed: Yeah, you'll need time to work on your story for the police.

Mrs. Axelrod: Really, Miss Reed. Tabitha. People might like you better if you were a bit less abrasive. Even if Jess did have a lot to gain by Glenn's death, that hardly means you can treat her like this.

Jess Thomas: Thanks Caitlin. I think...

Tabitha Reed: Speaking of having something to gain by Glenn Beck's death... (eyes Mrs. Axelrod)

Mrs. Axelrod: There! That's exactly the thing I was talking about. You should know that you're starting to sound a bit like our friend Reginald Winchester by now.

Mr. Harding: That's just her way of trying to muddy the waters. The police, and the media, will see the obvious truth.

Tabitha Reed: (shrilly) The mass murderer speaks! What, did you kill Glenn Beck just because you were behind on your daily murder quota, or were you testing out a new weapon?

Reginald: Everyone, please, keep your heads. I have solved the mystery.

Tabitha Reed: I believe you already said that twice before.

Mrs. Axelrod: Maybe the third time is the charm.

Reginald: It was very cleverly done, but you didn't count on the power of my intellect. I have discerned the truth: You all killed Glenn Beck!

General murmur of disbelief

Reginald: All of you except... Ms. Fischer.

Gary Lexington: Why not Ms. Fischer?

Reginald: Don't know anything about mysteries? If there wasn't one innocent party, then the mystery wouldn't be challenging. Besides she doesn't have any motive.

Gary Lexington: What about her argument with Glenn Beck? That seemed to be rather heated. Maybe they got into another argument later.

Reginald: Don't be preposterous, you can't all have murdered her.

Mrs. Axelrod: But all but one of us can?

Reginald: Exactly.

Mr. Harding: I'm sorry, I'm trying to keep track here. What was my motive?

Reginald: You were incensed that Mr. Beck was not letting you read the newest copy of his manuscript.

Mr. Harding: Of course. It's so obvious now.

Jess Thomas: Wasn't Glenn stabbed only once?

Reginald: Yes, well, it would appear that way to the untrained eye, but you obviously all stabbed him in the same place.

Mrs. Axelrod: Isn't it rather dangerous for you to be in a room full of murderers, now that you've found them out?

Reginald: Mrs. Axelrod, danger is all a part of a detective's job.

Tabitha Reed: If we had all killed Glenn Beck together, wouldn't we also have provided alibis for each other? It seems the logical thing to do.

Reginald: You have the making of a detective, Miss. (the others laugh) Yes, I also thought of that, but clearly not having alibis was all of a part of your plan to frustrate my powers of deduction. A futile gesture, of course. Reginald Winchester never loses the trail of truth.

Mrs. Axelrod: And when exactly did we kill Glenn Beck?

Reginald: It's hard to say exactly. Obviously, you would have had to stab him in stages.

Jess Thomas: Then wouldn't the first person to have stabbed him be the real murder?

Mrs. Axelrod: It's true. The rest of us would simply be... (searches for term) desecrating a corpse.

Gary Lexington: Perhaps the first wound didn't kill him.

Ms. Fischer: But he was stabbed through the heart.

Mr. Harding: No, I've got it: Each person would stab a little bit deeper than the person before. That way no one would conclusively have been the actual murderer.

Reginald scribbles furiously on his notepad

Reginald: Should I take that as your confession, then?

Mr. Harding: I don't see why not. Does anyone object?

Mrs. Axelrod: No objection here. It's good to be able to bring things to a conclusion.

Ms. Fischer: It's all well and good to joke about this, and I understand why you do, but that doesn't change the fact that Mr. Beck is dead.

Mrs. Axelrod: Oh, of course not, Therese. I'm sorry. I guess we all just got a bit carried away. The stress is really quite overwhelming.

Everyone stands around awkwardly. Gary Lexington looks around anxiously.

Gary Lexington: This silence is even worse than the accusations. Can't we just talk about this calmly like adults?

Jess Thomas: (pouting) No. Not with her here. (points at Tabitha Reed)

Gary Lexington: I know she gets under your skin. She got under mine too. But can't we approach this like adults? One of us in this room is a murderer, it seems. Don't you want to know who?

Mr. Harding: That's for the police to determine.

Gary Lexington: What will the police have that we don't have? We were all here when Glenn was killed. We have all the evidence between us. Maybe if we work together we can find the truth.

Tabitha Reed: And anyone who doesn't cooperate is probably the murderer? So I'm supposed to help you pin this crime on me?

Gary Lexington: No one is trying to "pin" this crime on anyone. We just want to find the truth, like Glenn Beck would have wanted.

Mr. Harding: Well said, Mr. Lexington. I, for one, offer any assistance I can. Let's track down Glenn's killer.

Mrs. Axelrod: I'm in. What can it hurt?

Jess Thomas: I'll help, but only if she stops accusing people.

Tabitha Reed: I call them as I see them.

Ms. Fischer: Enough. Mr. Lexington is right. We all need to work together.

They gather into a semi-circle. Reginald has slid into a corner away from them. He randomly mutters theories, each more bizarre than the last.

Gary Lexington: The way I see it, the first thing we need to do is figure out when Glenn was stabbed. That will help us narrow down who had an opportunity to kill him.

Ms. Fischer: I think, based on what everyone has said, that I was the last person here to see Mr. Beck alive. This was right before I brought Mr. Lexington up here.

Gary Lexington: Did anyone see Glenn after that time?

Everyone shakes their heads.

Gary Lexington: And you were then the first person to see Mr. Beck after his death. That is, except for the murderer, of course.

Ms. Fischer: Yes.

Jess Thomas: Then we should retrace where everyone was during that time. I was up here, with Detective Winchester and Mr. Harding when Mr. Lexington came in.

Gary Lexington: And I was with Ms. Fischer while she brought me up here.

Ms. Fischer: After that, I went over to the east wing to make sure that everything was on schedule for dinner.

Mr. Harding: And Mr. Lexington and I went to look at Glenn's art collection.

Jess Thomas: Then I went to touch up my make-up.

Mrs. Axelrod: And some time around then, I arrived and found my way to this room.

Tabitha Reed: That would make you the only person to pass through the front lobby, right by where Glenn Beck was murdered, during the time of the murder.

Mrs. Axelrod: If you're going to try and accuse me, we can end this right now.

Tabitha Reed: You might have seen a clue. Do you remember anything unusual in the lobby?

Mrs. Axelrod: Nothing really. I've been here so many times, it's like a blur. I do remember being surprised that no one came to let me in, but I figured that maybe you had started without me.

Ms. Fischer: Were any of the side doors to the lobby open?

Mrs. Axelrod: I don't think so. Is that important?

Ms. Fischer: When I found Mr. Beck's body, the door was closed. And it is usually left open.

Mrs. Axelrod: Mr. Lexington, you said this was your first time in Mr. Beck's house?

Gary Lexington: That's correct.

Mrs. Axelrod: Did you spend some time looking around when you first entered the lobby?

Gary Lexington: Oh yes. I wanted to soak in every detail.

Mrs. Axelrod: When you are standing just inside the front doors there is a door directly to your right. That door leads to the north hallway. Was it open or closed?

Gary Lexington: (concentrating) Open. Definitely open. I remember noticing how the red tile contrasted with the white marble of the main lobby.

Mr. Harding: So someone closed the door. I don't see what that has to do with anything.

Reginald has wandered over to listen in on the group and is making notes

Reginald: We cannot afford to overlook any clue, no matter how insignificant it may seem.

Mr. Harding: All I'm saying is, we seem to still be exactly where we started. Anyone could have killed Glenn, and they may or may not have closed a door.

Gary Lexington: Still, it's something that we didn't know before.

Jess Thomas: Where do we go from here?

Gary Lexington: I don't know, I'm sort of new to this whole detective business. Detective Winchester, what would a detective normally do at this point?

Jess Thomas: (under her breath) Destroy more evidence.

Reginald: Why that's obvious: The psychology of the murderer is the key. Determine the psychology needed to perform a murder like this, and that will lead to the killer.

Jess Thomas: It isn't exactly difficult to stick a knife in a person, is it?

Reginald: Not physically, perhaps.

Gary Lexington: I see what he's saying. The way he was killed tells us something about the killer.

Tabitha Reed: For instance, the killer almost certainly had opposable thumbs.

Mrs. Axelrod: Miss Reed, please.

Jess Thomas: Oh! The killing tells us that it was premeditated!

Tabitha Reed: How do you figure that?

Jess Thomas: Because of the murder weapon. It came from the kitchen, but Glenn was killed in the hallway on the other side of the lobby. The killer brought it with him. (Reginald clears his throat) Or her. The point is, he or she was planning to kill Glenn all along.

Sirens begin sounding in the background, growing rapidly louder.

Gary Lexington: (looking out window) The police are here.

Jess Thomas: Aww. And I was just starting to feel like we were really getting somewhere.

Gary Lexington: Well, at least we'll be able to pass on what we've found out.

Ms. Fischer: I need to go down and show them in.

Reginald: No one travels alone. We'll have to go together.

Random grumbles, but they all leave the room together.

Act IV: Unmasked

The group re-enters with Officer Daniels.

Ms. Fischer: And then, after I found Mr. Beck's body down there, like you saw, I ran up here.

Officer Daniels: Where the rest of this group was?

Ms. Fischer: Oh no, just Detective Winchester and Mrs. Axelrod were here.

Officer Daniels: Where was everyone else?

Gary Lexington: I was in the art gallery.

Mr. Harding: As was I.

Officer Daniels: You were together then?

Mr. Harding and Gary Lexington: No.

Jess Thomas: I was in the bathroom.

Tabitha Reed: I was in the bushes.

Officer Daniels: The bushes?

Ms. Fischer: But eventually everyone gathered here and that's where we stayed.

Officer Daniels: None of you left the room?

Mrs. Axelrod: We went to Glenn's study.

Officer Daniels: His study? Why?

Mrs. Axelrod: To get the manuscript for his new book.

Officer Daniels: Was that really necessary?

Reginald: It seemed so at the time. I also left the room to investigate the body. (pulls knife off the table where it has been resting) You'll probably want to catalog this. It's the murder weapon.

Officer Daniels: Then what is it doing up here?

Reginald: I had to examine it.

Officer Daniels: No, you didn't. Okay, it looks like we've got our work cut out for us. I'm going to go call for a forensics team, though I can't see what good it will do at this point. No one is to leave this room.

Officer Daniels walks out of the room.

Jess Thomas: He seemed a bit rude.

Reginald: Yes, no professional courtesy at all.

Gary Lexington: I can't believe they only sent one squad car.

Mrs. Axelrod: Obviously they didn't believe Jess when she called it in

Jess Thomas: They'll have to believe it now. Can you imagine the headlines?

Gary Lexington: "Constitutional Defender Falls"

Tabitha Reed: "Beck Dead - World Rejoices"

Mr. Harding: "Glenn Beck Slain by Socialist Nutjob"

Tabitha Reed: I'd rather be a socialist nutjob than a right-wing war monger.

Mr. Harding: Ah, so you do admit to killing Glenn.

Officer Daniels re-enters room

Officer Daniels: Who admits to the killing?

Mrs. Axelrod: No one, officer. Mr. Harding was just getting a bit carried away. We really don't know who killed Glenn.

Officer Daniels: Okay, whatever. I'll need to question each one of you individually. You first. (He points at Gary Lexington)

Gary Lexington walks toward the door.

Reginald: Wait!

Officer Daniels: Listen buddy, you're already facing evidence tampering charges. Don't make it any worse by interfering in the investigation.

Reginald: But the manuscript for Glenn Beck's new book has been stolen!

Mrs. Axelrod: Not that again. (to Officer Daniels) Don't mind him, officer. He gets fixated on things some times.

Reginald: No, it really has been this time. It was on that desk by the wall. And now it's gone.

Jess Thomas: Are you sure about that?

Tabitha Reed: Maybe it fell off.

Gary Lexington: (walks around the desk) It's not back here.

Reginald: The killer has stolen Glenn Beck's manuscript!

Mr. Harding: No one has stolen anything. (Pulls manuscript from under a chair) Here Jess, I put this under the chair for safe keeping earlier when everything was getting a bit heated. I didn't want to risk having it strewn all over the place if someone accidentally bumped the desk.

Jess takes manuscript, starts flipping through it.

Tabitha Reed: And you didn't think to tell anyone?

Mr. Harding: Well, to be perfectly honest, it was hard to get a word in edgewise at the time. Though I am grateful Detective Winchester pointed out its absence. (to Jess) In the excitement I might have forgotten to give it to you.

Officer Daniels: If that's all, I'd like to get on with questioning people.

Jess Thomas: Wait!

Officer Daniels: What now?

Jess Thomas: A part of the manuscript has been stolen!

Reginald: What?

Jess Thomas: It looks like pages 238 through 251 are missing.

Tabitha Reed: That's ridiculous. Who would steal part of a book?

Ms. Fischer: Someone who didn't want that information to be known.

Gary Lexington: Is there a table of contents with that manuscript?

Jess Thomas: Good thinking. (she flips to the front of the packet) It looks like that would be the entirety of chapter 18: War Profits are Good, Greed is Bad.

Reginald: So, the murderer must have been named in that very chapter.

Jess Thomas: But the only one of us that could be... (looks up at Mr. Harding)

Mr. Harding: (pulls gun and points it at Officer Daniels) Don't even think about it. (Looks around) Congratulations detective, it looks like you will get to learn who murdered Glenn Beck. Sadly, it doesn't look like you'll be able to bring him to justice. (to Officer Daniels) Put your hands behind your head and step away from the doorway.

Officer Daniels: (puts hands behind head) You'll never get away with this. More officers are already on their way. In under an hour your picture will be all over the television. There's nowhere to hide.

Mr. Harding: You really don't understand how this works, do you? In less than a half hour I can be on a private jet bound for anywhere in the world. I didn't want it to end like this, but many other countries would be willing to pay me handsomely for the things I know.

Ms. Fischer: Traitor!

Mr. Harding: Glenn forced my hand. What do you expect me to do, go to jail?

Gary Lexington: That's no reason to sell military secrets to foreign powers!

Mr. Harding: A guy's got to eat. Now, I really must be going. (to Officer Daniels) If I see you flinch, you're dead, so don't try and be a hero.

Mr. Harding starting inching toward the door, his gun still trained on Officer Daniels. He doesn't notice as Gary Lexington, Mrs. Axelrod, and Jess Thomas all produce guns.

Reginald: You said you were unarmed!

Mr. Harding: (not looking away from Officer Daniels) Yeah, I lied. I also murder. Go figure.

Officer Daniels: I don't think he was talking about you.

Mr. Harding: (looks around, to see three guns trained on him) You've got to be kidding. Stupid Glenn Beck fans!

Mrs. Axelrod: It's over, Justin.

Mr. Harding: You wouldn't really shoot me, would you Caitlin?

Gary Lexington: I would. You killed the greatest man in the world!

Reginald: You would resort to murder just to get a chance to read Glenn's new book before anyone else?

Mr. Harding: Do you still really think this whole thing is about me wanting to read Glenn's manuscript?

Reginald: It's the logical conclusion. What else could it be?

Mrs. Axelrod: I think I might know. It has to do with Justin's charity.

Reginald: Don't be silly. Who ever heard of killing someone for charity?

Mrs. Axelrod: (ignoring Reginald) What happened, Justin? Decided to skim a little off the top?

Mr. Harding: What, you're playing detective now?

Mrs. Axelrod: No one would ever miss a few thousand in operating expenses. No one except Glenn Beck.

Mr. Harding: It was all perfectly legal.

Mrs. Axelrod: Legal, maybe, but wrong, and Glenn knew it. He put his reputation behind your charity.

Mr. Harding: And so that makes it okay for him to ruin MY reputation? My reputation nets me over a million dollars annually.

Gary Lexington: You're a thief, a traitor, and a murderer!

Mr. Harding: But stealing the invitation of a military veteran so that you could impersonate him at a party is perfectly okay? Don't lecture me about morals.

Gary Lexington: Okay, I admit that was wrong.

Mrs. Axelrod: And that's what this party was about tonight. Glenn never could keep a secret. He invited us all here to expose you for the villain you really were. Poor Glenn never realized what a sick, twisted monster he was dealing with.

Reginald: A rather inventive lie, but my detective's instincts are never wrong. I still believe that it was your lust to read Glenn's manuscript that lies behind this murder. Why else would you have stolen it?

Mr. Harding: (Pulls the folded pages from his inner coat pocket) This? I don't want to ever see this again in my life! (throws it on the ground)

Jess Thomas: What did you think stealing these pages would accomplish? Glenn keeps everything on his computer, and has regular automated back-ups. Your secret would have come out eventually.

Mr. Harding: I believe that you'll discover, upon checking, that Glenn's computer has had an irrecoverable hard drive crash. As for the backups, you'll find everything in order, with a copy of last month's manuscript.

Gary Lexington: You're very proud of yourself aren't you?

Mr. Harding: Proud. Yes, I am. It was a perfect plan, and it was made even better by the fortuitous appearance of our nutjob friend here. (gestures toward Tabitha, who shies away from the gun)

Tabitha Reed: If it was so perfect, then why are there three guns trained on you?

Mr. Harding: Yes, well, no one could have counted on all this ridiculous detective business. His being here is completely outside the bounds of logic.

Gary Lexington: Yes, but it looks like Glenn Beck will win in the end.

Police sirens sound in the distance.

Mrs. Axelrod: It's over, Justin.

Mr. Harding: (has been slowly moving toward the door) Over? It's only beginning. I have the best legal team that money can buy.

Jess Thomas: You may have very good lawyers, but I doubt they can fix a bullet wound to the skull. Stop sneaking toward the door and put your gun on the floor.

Mr. Harding: Can't I at least shoot him first? (indicates Reginald)

Jess Thomas: Gun. On the floor. Now.

Mr. Harding looks around, finally reluctantly lowers his gun and places it on the carpet. Officer Daniels steps forward, handcuffs Mr. Harding, and begins to read him his rights as they exit the room.

Gary Lexington: Wow. I can't believe that just happened.

Tabitha Reed: I knew it all along.

Mrs. Axelrod: Well, at least now it will be easier to convince my listeners that I didn't really kill Glenn Beck with my bare hands.

Jess Thomas: (gathering up discarded pages) And I won't have to worry about telling my boss that Glenn's book is missing chapter 18.

Mrs. Axelrod: Can you imagine the excitement this is going to cause when it hits the media?

Tabitha Reed: It already has.

Gary Lexington: (reading off Tabitha Reed's iPad) "Right-wing war-monger murders right-wing fear monger" by Tabitha Reed.

Mrs. Axelrod: Sounds like a nice, well-balanced piece of journalism.

Tabitha Reed: It's already gotten over five thousand hits on salon.com.

Ms. Fischer: Everyone, I know it's not how we planned it, but dinner is set up in the east wing if anyone is hungry.

Gary Lexington: I'm starving.

They head for the door, except for Reginald

Reginald: Wait!

Jess Thomas: What is it now, detective? We've already solved the case.

Reginald: Yes, but you've forgotten the most important thing.

Jess Thomas: And that is?

Reginald: Whenever you have completed the case, you must always say, "I hereby declare this case closed." It brings closure to the mystery. Come on, everyone.

Mrs. Axelrod: I'd really rather not.

Reginald: It will make you feel better, trust me. Ready now? On the count of three: One... Two... Three.

All: (mumbling to appease Reginald) I hereby declare this case closed.

Reginald: Not like that. You have to say it with conviction! Let's try it again, and put your heart into it. Say it like you mean it. One... Two... Three.

All: (louder) I hereby declare this case closed.

Mrs. Axelrod: Actually, you were right. That did make me feel a bit better.

Reginald: But of course. I am never wrong.

All exit the room

Jesus of Nazareth

2015-02-20T16:07:00-05:00

Now the moment had arrived, the time for Peter to explain to the waiting crowd what the God of their fathers had done. It was something that Peter himself was still struggling to grasp. God had done all that the ancient prophets had foretold, but in a way that no one had imagined. And that fulfillment was summed up in three words: "Jesus of Nazareth". ((Acts 2:22))

News traveled slowly in the ancient world, but there was little chance that those listening would not have known the name. The apostles reminded the crowd of the many miracles God had performed to confirm his selection of Jesus. ((Acts 2:22)) Even those who had only heard the criticisms from the Pharisees would know that strange signs had followed Jesus wherever he went. They also knew that, despite the many wonders he had performed, his split with the Temple had eventually led to his arrest, and no miracle had come to spare his life.

Peter himself could not forget that arrest either. He had been there, wanting to take a stand before the Sanhedrin and tell them that Jesus was a righteous man. ((Mark 14:13)) Instead, he hid in the courtyard and lied about who he was. ((Mark 14:66-72)) The blood of the Messiah hung heavy over all of them. Peter pulled no punches as he screamed into the temple, "You used sinners to carry out the dirty task of executing the one sent from God himself." ((Acts 2:23))

Converting the Heathen

2015-02-15T09:30:00-05:00

What is the sickness that inspires us to divide the world into Christian and non-Christian? Why do followers of Jesus think that hanging out with non-Christians is either backsliding or missions work? Why do we ask questions like "How do I love someone without condoning their lifestyle?"

Did Jesus want his followers to provide one more cultural division? Did he intend for us to literally and figuratively put up walls to keep out the world?

Why would I ask six questions in a row? Why does one of the questions quote another question? Is anyone still reading this?

I know Paul says that the message of the cross is an offense, but when I read the accounts of the apostles, the people offended were the powerful and the religious. A local radio station is running a series about how to share the gospel without ruining our relationships, as though somehow those two were related. It's only because we've spent so long believing that "sharing the gospel" is code for "preaching at people until they hate you" that we worry so much.

The world has enough people preaching at them from atop high horses. Maybe we should try sharing the gospel in a new way.

Adjective of the Night

2015-01-21T07:10:00-05:00

No foreign nation, no hacker, should be able to shut down our networks, steal our trade secrets or invade the privacy of American families, especially our kids.

— President Barack Obama's State of the Union Address

Old Men Will Dream Dreams

2015-01-09T08:26:00-05:00

Peter had the crowd's attention, and he wasn't about to let go. "Do not dismiss what you see here. It is the fulfillment of everything God has promised. The prophet Joel ((Acts 2:16, Joel 2:28-32)) spoke of these 'last days', and gave you a sign that you would see God's spirit poured on everyone, man and woman, young and old, slave and free. That is what you are seeing today!"

The shock reverberated through the crowd. Every man and woman in the crowd knew that the day of the Lord was coming, and with it the Messiah. They knew the prophecies that had been given. They had meditated on these scriptures, prayed for their fulfillment, and yet in some sense they had never really imagined it. It was a great event, beyond what the human mind could grasp. To run into it on an ordinary day, while life went on as normal around them, seemed absurd.

At the same time, they didn't want to miss out on God's rescue ((Acts 2:21)). They had waited in captivity for nearly five hundred years, with eager expectation. If there was the slightest chance that these men and women had information about how they could be freed, they had to hear it.

Love Letter

2015-01-08T14:59:00-05:00

I've heard, more than once, someone refer to the Bible as "God's love letter". I confess that I haven't received that many love letters in my life, but not one of them included accounts of war, a detailed architectural layout, or scathing denunciations of foreign governments. My question is, what sort of love letters are these people receiving?

If this is what their love letters tend to contain, I can understand why they're having so little luck at impacting the world for good.

The First Christmas

2014-12-22T11:22:00-05:00

It was late in December, and shoppers were busy finding last minute gifts for all of their friends and relatives. Mary, though, had no time for the seasonal bustle. She had to travel to the little town of Bethlehem for taxes or something. The weather forecast called for snow, and she was nine-months pregnant, but taxes don't care about that kind of thing. So Mary, and her husband Joseph, got on their donkey and were driving to Bethlehem on Christmas Eve.

Of course, finding a hotel room on Christmas Eve proved tricky. Everyone's out-of-town relatives were in for the holidays, and they had filled up every room, even at the shady-looking motel run by the Pakistani family. By then, the snow was starting to accumulate, and Mary's water had broken. In desperation, they sought shelter in a barn with no front wall, a cow on one side, a horse on the other, and a manger in the middle. There was just enough space for one of them to stand on each side of the manger.

Out in the mountains, sheep were searching for grass in the snow. One of them said to the shepherd boy, "Do you see what I see?" The boy looked, and noticed a choir of angels, playing harps and singing Christmas carols. He asked what was going on, and they told him that Jesus was in Bethlehem. He got the other shepherds, and the sheep, and they went to the address the angels had given them.

Meanwhile, things were dicey at Herod's castle. Three oriental kings had shown up and demanded to see baby Jesus, because they had heard about him from a star. The guards lowered the drawbridge and let them in, but no one could find Jesus anywhere in the castle. Finally, they asked some people who had paid attention when the Christmas story was read at church, and they said that baby Jesus was supposed to be in Bethlehem.

The three kings got back on their camels and drove to Bethlehem. They had to drive slowly, due to all the snow, and so they arrived after the shepherds and the little drummer boy. Fortunately, the star turned into a spotlight that pointed at Jesus, so they found him easily. They went in and saw baby Jesus in the manger. There was a glowing circle around his head that lit up the whole barn. By then, Mary had completely recovered from childbirth and was standing next to the manger. The kings gave gold and some other stuff to baby Jesus. Then they all bowed down around the manger and prayed to him.

They stayed at the manger to watch the ball drop on New Year's Eve, and then the shepherd went to tell it on the mountains, over the hills, and everywhere. And they all lived happily ever after.

Life Saver

2014-12-16T07:26:00-05:00

I have a tendency, when writing, of taking many days to complete something. I will start it one day, and come back several times over the next week, usually with lots of time between editing sessions. Even worse, I don't make a habit of saving my changes.

My computer is on a battery backup, so I don't have to worry about unexpected power outages, and my programs generally have some sort of automatic backup anyhow. However, the internet has not yet reached the sophistication of native applications.

Of particular interest in this scenario is Wordpress's insistence on using "nonces" for security. These are codes that must be submitted with every request. They prevent cross-site request forgery and additionally expire after a short period of time. This expiration can prove troublesome for someone like me, who may not save his changes for periods exceeding twenty-four hours.

Whenever you try to save a post with an expired nonce, you get a message that says "Are you sure you want to do this?" Even if you are, your changes are tossed out, and you are sent back to the post editor with the previous save loaded, and no sign of your recent work. As you can imagine, this is a bit frustrating.

Then, a miracle happens. After a couple of seconds, a box appears above the post title. "The backup in your browser is different than the version below. Would you like to load it?" I'm not sure what sort of black magic is involved here, but I appreciate it. Good job, Wordpress.

Oracle

2014-12-15T07:12:00-05:00

Ecstatic bursts of speech were a hallmark of ancient pagan religions. In Jewish culture, they had become proverbial ((Matthew 6:7)). However, such outbursts had no place in the first century temple. The Jewish religion was too dignified for such marks of religious mania. For the Judeans in the temple that day, the sudden tumult of voices speaking words they did not know raised suspicions.

Were these people, like the famed Oracle at Delphi, carried away in a drug-induced religious trance? Would they turn dangerous? At least at Delphi there was always a priest standing by to translate the Oracle's mysterious babbling into vaguely useful information about whether you should buy a new field or send your soldiers into battle. Who would explain these strange happenings?

The big Galilean who finally addressed the crowd ((Acts 2:14)) in their local tongue did not have the look of a priest. In fact, he was about as unlike a priest as it was possible to be. Clearly an uneducated laborer, the man was coarse and unkempt. Yet, like John the Baptist before him, Peter made an impression on the crowd. Those who had been mocking only moments later, quieted to hear his explanation.

The End of Insanity?

2014-12-12T07:16:00-05:00

The day finally arrived. Our house guest has found herself a new place to live. To say she has "moved out" may be a bit of an overstatement, as many boxes of her things still remain in our library. Still, she is spending her nights at her new house, and has returned one of the keys we gave her.

We've started the process of restoring our house to its previous state, and taking inventory of the things that appear to have left along with our guest. Kelly has been passing along her findings to our guest so that they can be returned to us.

I suppose all of this demands a summary, so that my future self can check here if memory fails. Overall, I think I would gladly allow another displaced person to reside here for a while. In fact, we've still got a few of those offers open at the moment.

What I would do differently, however, is to restrict future guests more strictly at first. Allowing someone free access to the house has proven to be very stressful for Kelly, as her plans around the house often end up being the victim. Setting boundaries may help to ensure that Kelly doesn't end up completely frustrated at the end.

Ark Encounter

2014-12-11T08:49:00-05:00

This morning I saw the news that Kentucky will not be granting Answers in Genesis's "Ark Encounter" park its twenty-five percent tax discount that other tourist attractions in the state receive. Their reason is that AIG's hiring practices, which require employees to self-identify as Christians, are discriminatory.

I'm not really interested in whether this is an attack on religious liberty, a stand against indoctrination, or any of that stuff. Those issues seem to be adequately addressed in the comment sections of various news articles. What I'd like to talk about is strategy.

Is this just a brilliant gambit by AIG? It's not like their hiring policy actually makes any sense for them, but it's a very nice red herring to bargain with later. Consider the following:

It's not exactly hard to lie about whether you're a Christian. Plenty of people do it for far less than a job.
A group of self-avowed Christians is not going to have fewer internal disputes than a mixed group.
Reaching non-Christians is a primary goal of AIG's ministry. What better way than to hire them to work alongside you every day?
There can still be a code of conduct for employees to ensure they stick to the script while inside the park.
Does it make a difference to the experience if the guy selling lemonade at the concession stand is a Buddhist?
Having non-Christians on staff limits the perception that questionable practices might be covered up due to religious pressure.

As it currently stands, there is a public outcry against this policy, and people are saying "We would support you if it weren't for this discriminatory practice." For AIG to turn this to a significant advantage, all they need do is wait. After a suitable stalling period, to build up some pressure, they can change that hiring rule and make a press release about wanting to include people of all beliefs.

That's good press, and those who said they were unreasonable will have to applaud AIG's willingness to include non-Christians, or risk being accused of being anti-religious themselves. Well played.

Santa Baby

2014-12-09T08:31:00-05:00

Dear Miss,

I don't make a habit of responding to all of the correspondence we receive here at the North Pole, but in this case I feel I must make an exception. You appear to some misapprehension about what it is we do here. In case you have forgotten, I have included a copy of the text from your original letter below, with my own comments at places I feel need clarified.

Santa baby, just slip a Sable under the tree for me;
Been an awful good girl, Santa baby,
So hurry down the chimney tonight

I am glad to see that you understand that good behavior should be rewarded. However, our target audience dictates that we specialize in toys rather than luxury goods. It is also against our ethical guidelines to deal in animal pelts.

Santa baby, a '54 convertible too, light blue;

Here at the North Pole, we build all items from scratch when requested. Vintage items are not kept in stock. Once again, I must mention that our focus is children, particularly the disadvantaged.

I'll wait up for you, dear; Santa baby,

So hurry down the chimney tonight.

It is against our policies to enter a house while anyone remains awake. We feel it keeps everything simpler.

Think of all the fun I've missed; Think of all the fellas that I haven't kissed;

I'll admit, this one stumped me. However, I had a team of my best elf investigators look into it further, and they were able to come up with a list of twelve possible names.

Next year I could be just as good... if you check off my Christmas list

Christmas gifts are given as a reward for good behavior in the previous year, not as a bribe to ensure good behavior in the next. I realize this concept may be new to you, as my records indicate you have never held a job.

Santa baby, I want a yacht and really that's not a lot;

Actually, it is.

Been an angel all year; Santa baby,

I have checked my list twice, and feel there must be an accounting error on your side. According to our records, you have been vain, abusive, and manipulative all year.

So hurry down the chimney tonight.

Santa honey, one little thing I really need...

Given all the children around the world who are actually in need, I feel that I must disagree with your using that word in this context.

The deed... to a platinum mine, Santa baby,

So hurry down the chimney tonight.

Platinum? You strike me more as a gold digger.

Santa cutie, fill my stocking with the duplex and checks;
Sign your 'X' on the line, Santa cutie,
and hurry down the chimney tonight.

We do not use any currency here. Bringing joy to children is all the riches we require.

Come and trim my Christmas tree with some decorations bought at Tiffany's;

Decorating your tree is your own responsibility.

I really do believe in you;

Let's see if you believe in me...

While belief is important, gifts are not given solely on that basis.

Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing... A ring...
I don't mean on the phone; Santa baby,
So hurry down the chimney tonight

Very clever.

Hurry down the chimney tonight

Hurry, tonight!

With the large number of deliveries required in one day, I assure you haste will not be lacking. However, your requests for this year have been declined. I would encourage you, in the coming year, to spend more time looking to the welfare of others, and less time increasing your own material possessions.

Finally, the photograph you included with your letter was unnecessary, as my elves can identify the sender of every letter based solely on handwriting. Also, I ask that you not soak your next letter in perfume. It sent several of the elves in the sorting department into asthmatic fits.

Yours Truly,

Santa Claus

Favored

2014-12-01T10:03:00-05:00

I've sung the songs that call Jesus "the hope of nations". I know that "gospel" means good news. Yet, from time to time, I lose my connection with that. It's partially because I've been wrong a lot. I've learned that nothing is really good or bad, but that it's all about who you're talking to at the moment. What one person considers wonderful, the next considers an abomination. I've learned it's just safer to assume that nothing is an absolute good.

Then, I'm confronted with Jesus. A man who cared for the alien, who gave healing to the sick, and friendship to the sinner. A man who saw the wickedness of the human race, yet gave grace to those who knew they didn't deserve it. A man who spoke out against the corruption of religion. A man who forgave the soldiers who drove nails into his wrists. A man who died in the place of the rebels who rejected him.

If that is what God is like, isn't that good news for us all?

The Mountain

2014-11-23T07:17:00-05:00

In my land there is a mountain that everyone is forced to climb. Its slope is treacherous, and enemies lie in wait to attack any who try to reach the summit. I went to the mountain, I overcame its challenges, and was crowned king of the mountain. I returned the next day, free to travel its face without fear. I watched others attempting the climb, and saw them fall, defeated. One boy was almost to the summit, climbing a vertical rock wall, when his fingers slipped. He was close enough that I could see the fear and disappointment in his eyes as he fell. I heard his cry for help, and watched him crash into the rocks below. I abdicated my throne that day. I climbed down the mountain, placed my crown on his head, and carried his broken body to the top. I patrol this mountain now, protecting the weak and carrying the defeated. They mocked me. "That's not how the mountain works," they said, but I am changing the mountain.

Tongues

2014-11-13T07:43:00-05:00

As the spirit of God poured into the disciples, they proclaimed that Jesus was Lord. The words springing from their lips were in languages they did not know, but their hearts knew it was truth. They watched as some moved farther away, annoyed by their outburst, and others moved closer, eager to hear their message.

Foreign tongues being shouted in the temple had never happened before. Even though they'd waited eagerly all week for the fulfillment of Jesus's promise, they hadn't imagined it like this. Then again, when Jesus was involved, the unexpected was the order of the day. The crowd around them grew, and so did the chance that temple guards would be sent to disperse them.

The eleven apostles gathered together. Peter, as usual, took the lead. He found a place where the crowd of pilgrims could see him and bellowed at the onlookers ((Acts 2:14)) in Aramaic: "Listen, my good Judeans. I have something very important to tell you. You think, because you cannot understand their words, that these people are drunk. Quite the opposite. We haven't even had breakfast yet!" ((Act 2:15))

Sprinklings of Insanity

2014-11-12T19:57:00-05:00

Have you ever watched in horror as someone repeatedly makes bad decisions? You think to yourself, "They must have learned from that," yet there is always a next time. There are a few people in my life like that. Some eventually did turn things around. Others aren't quite there yet. I'm not sure where this story fits.

Growing up in the American public school system, one of the greatest evils I was warned against was smoking. I still remember the pictures in my health textbook showing red healthy lungs next to black diseased lungs. There were stickers, comic books, and videos warning of the danger. Since no one in my immediate family, or even circle of friends, smoked around me, it was never a great temptation. As far as I can remember, no one ever tried to peer pressure me into trying a cigarette.

In more recent years, I've realized that smoking is not a great evil. It's an addiction, and a dangerous one, but the people who smoke are mostly victims, not villains. I've made friends with a few smokers, and try to avoid flinching at the smell of ash when I'm around them. I actually like the smell of tobacco, just not when it's on fire. One area where I do draw the line, though, is allowing them to smoke inside the house, as that would be an imposition on our non-smoking guests.

Our house guest was not a smoker when she moved in a month ago. Old habits die hard, though, and as the stress of her divorce got under her skin, the cigarettes returned. Aware that smoking inside the house was not allowed, she would escape to her car, where she rapidly burned through a cigarette and returned to the house reeking of smoke.

My nose isn't that sensitive. Even when I know to pay attention for a smell, I still sometimes miss it. Kelly is just the opposite, and being in the first trimester of her pregnancy has made her sense of smell around ten times more sensitive. She would walk around the house and tell me exactly what our house guest had touched after one of her smoke breaks. A bit of quick research suggested that this "third hand smoke" during pregnancy was linked to lung development issues. It was not a startling find, but it was enough to make it clear something needed to be done.

When confronted with the difficulties caused by her new habit, our guest revealed that she actually had electronic cigarettes (which don't burn into toxic ash), but chose not to use them. She agreed to upgrade her addiction, and, for the moment, that particular hiccup seems resolved.

The Heart Language

2014-11-05T19:29:00-05:00

The language used in the ceremonies of the temple was ancient Hebrew. Many Jews had learned to speak Greek in order to bargain with foreign merchants. Dealing with the Roman soldiers and officials stationed throughout the empire had forced most to pick up Latin. One of those languages would have been understood by the assembled pilgrims.

Yet, to the people gathered that day, those were the languages of government, religion, and money. They hadn't said their first words in Hebrew. Their mothers hadn't sung to them in Latin. They didn't talk to their children in Greek.

A foreigner in Jerusalem had to be careful to avoid his native tongue, which sounded like gibberish to the Aramaic-speaking citizens of Judea. No one in Jerusalem made the effort learn a foreigner's language, and his fellow countrymen were far away. Imagine his surprise to hear the tongue of his home country being shouted in the temple courtyard.

The crowd pressed around the disciples to hear what was being said. ((Acts 2:6)) Pilgrims listened closely to single out the voice that spoke their language. Some, who had spent time around Jerusalem, were shocked to see that the men and women appeared to be Galileans. ((Acts 2:7)) They wondered what this could mean. ((Acts 2:8))

Others also recognized the speakers as Galileans. To them, the many foreign languages were only noise disrupting their religious experience. "Those Galileans are certainly hitting the new wine early, ((Acts 2:13))" they said. It felt good to have someone to mock.

Flame

2014-11-03T06:52:00-05:00

The disciples had seen the pillar of cloud on the mountain ((Acts 1:9)) , and now they saw the other manifestation of God: the pillar of flame ((Genesis 15:17, Exodus 3:2, 13:21, 19:18, 24:17, 2 Samuel 22:13, 2 Kings 6:17, Psalms 50:3, Ezekiel 1:27)). The roaring fire rushed into the upper room, illuminating everything inside. The startled disciples watched as it spread out, marking each of them with a flame ((Acts 2:3)). As the flames over their heads faded, a new flame ignited in their spirits.

They felt a connection with something, someone, more wise, more powerful, more holy than themselves. Though he could easily have consumed them, instead he prompted gently. Down below, in the temple, a multitude of their countrymen had come to offer the first fruits of their harvest. Now they saw it clearly: They were the first fruits of a different kind of harvest, and it was time to offer themselves in the temple.

As one, they rushed from their room and into the waiting crowd, eager to tell those still in darkness about what they had seen: eager to spread the fire of heaven ((Acts 2:4)).

Minding the Gaps

2014-10-30T08:33:00-04:00

If you haven't yet read my short story In the Gaps, and you don't like "spoilers", you may want to read that first.

Not every story has a story behind it, or at least that story is some variant of "I had an idea and wrote it down." In the Gaps was not one of those.

Several years ago my friend Nate mentioned an idea he had for a story. "An atheist says there is no god, but that's asserting a negative. To prove it, you would need to be omniscient. What if an atheist became god trying to prove there wasn't one?"

What he meant was that if I say something like "There are no unicorns", then all someone has to do to prove me wrong is show one unicorn. The lack of a unicorn is not proof that it does not exist, because it could be hiding somewhere in the jungle. Suppose I observed every square inch of the planet at the same time and found no unicorns. Would that be conclusive proof? Of course not. The unicorn could have burrowed underground, or be living on another planet. To prove a negative, you've got to observe all of reality at the same instant. In other words, you have to be a god.

It was a great concept, and I awaited his final product. Knowing him, it would be some stream-of-consciousness cerebral, and mildly trippy, piece of high art. The sole character would spend his days alone, trying to prove there was no god. He would eventually succeed, only to realize, to his horror, that he had become the very thing he had proved did not exist.

Great stuff, but a different story with that premise started to formulate, unbidden, in my mind. Eventually I asked him if I could borrow his idea for my story, and he agreed. Another couple of years passed, but I finally sat down and churned out what I call In the Gaps.

Pentecost

2014-10-29T16:23:00-04:00

It had been a week since Jesus had entered heaven. His followers still awaited his promise. Jewish pilgrims from around the ancient world ((Acts 2:9-11)) were packed into Jerusalem for the festival of Pentecost; every year they presented the first of their harvest at the temple, to show God their gratefulness, and that they trusted him to provide even more.

Like that fateful Passover almost two months past, the city was on high alert. With so many gathered together, mobs formed quickly. Pilate had his Roman guards on prominent display, but out of easy reach. The crowds seemed to grow more volatile every year. The Jews were growing tired of their overlords.

It was almost time for the morning prayer ((Acts 2:15)). The crowds filled every inch of the temple's massive courtyard. Latecomers fought for any open space they could find. Then, without warning, the thunder of a roaring wind ((Acts 2:2)) echoed through the temple.

In The Gaps

2014-10-23T08:25:00-04:00

Aphelion's soot-stained blizzards allowed atmospheric travel only a few days every year. The planet's residents called those days "summer". It had been the furthest world mapped during the second great galactic expansion, but each new wave made the name increasingly ironic. That it was inhabited at all was a testament to the stubbornness of mankind. The planet's distant sun warmed only a small band around the equator, and surviving for more than a few days outside of one of the planet's metal citadels was impossible. Satellites allowed for intergalactic communication, but only if the signals could reach them from the ground. Since the atmosphere was constantly polluted with smoke from volcanic eruptions, it was not uncommon for the planet to go for days in radio silence.

The planet's unparalleled isolation had lured the first hermits and sages, followed quickly by those who fought the raging blizzards to learn at their feet. The fame of Aphelion spread. The first university opened less than three hundred years later. Others followed. The planet's meager resources could not support the crowds, so off-world shipments were ordered to make up the difference. The cold atmosphere proved ideal for cooling the universities's massive computer labs, while the geothermal energy of the planet was tapped to power them.

Competition between the universities was fierce. Each year brought new surveys measuring them against each other, followed by rounds of editorials debating their metrics and conclusions. The staff of the Aphelion Institute of Knowledge paid close attention to these reports. Nothing was allowed to threaten their "Top Five" ranking. If a report suggested they were slipping in some area, it was quickly corrected. That is why, when a popular educational journal ranked them ninth in "Spiritual Fulfillment", the school hired the charismatic Dr. Saldon Douglas. Since the survey revealed that science majors reported especially low "spiritual connectedness", the board assigned him to their department. As the blizzards of Aphelion slowed to their annual minimum, the cruiser carrying him, and thousands of others, descended through the atmosphere. The current head of the science department, Dr. Dyson Judd, waited on a sheltered platform as the ship docked at the university's spaceport.

Robots scurried around the ship the moment it touched down, removing luggage and preparing it for its next flight. A wave of passengers flowed from the ship, spreading out in every direction. Ignoring the vibrant tide of chattering students, Dr. Judd watched for the few figures dressed in the traditional dark robes of a scholar. His lean face was motionless, but his eyes were alive, darting back and forth over the crowd, cataloging each person. Eventually they fixed on a short, grinning, and slightly overweight man, who was wrestling a heavy cart of books through the mass of milling students.

The man wound his way through the crowd with some difficulty, but finally reached the base of Dr. Judd's platform. He stopped for a moment to catch his breath, and then, with great effort, hauled his cargo up the stairs and into the quiet of the professors's quarters. He paused for breath a second time, wiped beads of sweat from his forehead, and thrust out his moist hand. "Director Judd! It's so nice to finally meet you."

Dr. Judd ignored his outstretched hands. "The pleasure is all yours."

"Ah, they told me of your wit. " He chuckled merrily. "Nothing like a bit of kidding to make everyone feel at home. I look forward to working together here at the Institute."

"Dr. Douglas ..."

"Please," he interrupted, "Call me Sal. All my friends do." He dried his hand on his robe and extended it a second time.

"Dr. Douglas, allow me to make myself perfectly clear. I have been at this university for one-hundred and fourteen years. I have been overseeing this department for the last thirty-two. In all of that time, I have never been less pleased at the arrival of a professor. I have recently had the displeasure of reviewing your so-called scholarly publications, and I must say that I have never read anything more damaging to the cause of education. In short, you are not welcome here."

"There's no cause for hostility." Dr. Douglas's extended hand finally fell to his side. "You are entitled to your opinion. However, I have found that a bit of spiritual fulfillment is just what young minds need to help them become well-rounded individuals. Perhaps if you yourself had received such training during your formative years you would be a much happier individual now."

"We deal with the real here, Dr. Douglas, not the imagined. It is a distinction that you have made a career of disregarding. You should not be teaching science, or any other field."

Dr. Douglas straightened his back, refusing to wilt before the onslaught. "There is more to life than just facts! But I guess you can't see that. This is why the board of directors sent me: to correct your department's current deficiency."

Dr. Judd did not bother to stifle the contempt in voice. "I'm sure the fact that you have three family members on that board had nothing to do with it. You have no experience teaching in an academic environment. I have lab animals in the biology department who are more qualified!" With that, he spun on his heels, leaving Dr. Douglas standing before a gathering of college staff. After a moment he collected himself, smiled again, and began introducing himself to the assembled crowd as the new spiritual science professor.

Dr. Douglas settled into his professorship easily and soon became a student favorite. The semester passed quickly. Two weeks before finals, Dr. Douglas was in his office, humming happily as he read a batch of student essays. He had tried allowing his teaching assistants to grade essays, but felt they had been entirely too harsh and missed many promising nuances. Now he graded all essays himself. He found it very relaxing. Suddenly the door to his office flew open and Dr. Douglas burst in, brandishing a grading tablet. Before Dr. Douglas could offer a word of greeting, the irate director slammed the tablet onto the desk in front of him. "What is this?" the director demanded.

The tablet revealed a section of an "Introduction to Hyperspace Engineering" exam. The question at the top read "Show the equation that governs the depletion of helium in the Rosering warp reaction." Underneath the student had drawn an elaborate illustration of a caterpillar. Dr. Douglas realized that the director's question had been rhetorical.

"One of your students submitted this 'answer' in Professor Davis's class! When she marked it incorrect, he came to my office demanding that I overrule her decision and give him full marks. When asked why he felt he deserved such a correction, he answered, and I quote, 'God made caterpillars'."

After a moment's reflection, Dr. Douglas said, "I think you should give it to him. The caterpillar is such an excellent metaphor for our students. Hungrily feeding on knowledge so that one day they may transform and fly freely wherever the winds carry them."

Dr. Douglas grabbed his grading tablet and dropped it into the pocket of his robe. "This is not an isolated incident! I've had five teachers threaten to quit if you continue filling the students's heads with nonsense. The grades of the freshmen are down nearly ten percent!"

"Don't you think you're overreacting just a bit? The semester isn't even over yet, and already the students are much more alive to the spiritual truths all around them. I expect there will always be some who are slower to accept spiritual growth, but in the end it will all work out as God wills it."

"Not in my department!"

The next morning Dr. Judd appointed himself as the special guest lecturer for Dr. Douglas's "Intro to God and Science" class. His presentation was filled with the sternest possible warnings against being led astray by charlatans. He compared the glorious history of science to the degrading history of religion. When his lecture started into its second hour, several of the students attempted to leave for their next classes, but the threat of expulsion quickly returned them to their seats.

Finally, a bit past the three hour mark, Dr. Judd drew his lecture to a close. As he grabbed his notes from the lectern and marched toward the door, the voice of Dr. Douglas rose above the noise of students hastening to leave. "I realize this has already gone on far too long, but I really must ask for just a moment of your time." A collective groan escaped the audience as the students settled back into their seats.

"The director is absolutely right about the beauty and power of science. It is a remarkable tool that has led to many great advancements. Advancements that enable us to have better and more fulfilling lives. Certainly none of us would want to return to the savage days of our ancestors. Science has freed us to move among the stars! Despite that, I must make the following objection to what we have just heard."

He paused for a moment to sip some water. "Science is only one side of a many-sided coin. Science lets us visit the stars, but it doesn't explain the marvel we feel deep in our souls when we look into the cosmos. It gives us nearly instant access to every other human in the galaxy, but it can't explain the affection we feel for one another. Director Judd has asked you to believe that there is no God; that there is no spiritual realm; that there is nothing beyond what his tools and instruments can collect and measure. Perhaps, in his spiritual blindness, he cannot see that all of his measuring will never show that God is not at work, but I hope you, with your younger and more flexible minds, will see that science can never disprove the existence of the divine."

The gathered students steeled themselves for an hour-long retort from Dr. Judd, but, after a moment's consideration, he stormed from the room, his face contorting with frustration and rage. As the students poured from the lecture hall, Dr. Douglas began grading another essay. It had been a very good year.

At the end of the semester, as threatened, several professors turned in their resignations. Student grades slipped sharply in most classes, but were made up for by Dr. Douglas, who, though disappointed to hear he could not give grades higher than one-hundred percent, awarded all of his students perfect scores. Popular education journals praised the Institute of Knowledge's rapid rise in spiritual fulfillment. The board of directors, buoyed by their success, hired several new spiritual science professors to replace those who had resigned.

When the ship carrying the next class arrived, Dr. Douglas was the one greeting the incoming science professors. Dr. Judd was in his office, avoiding the newcomers, when a courier slipped a large envelope through his mail slot. Dr. Judd broke the seal and dumped a mass of data cards onto his desk. Those passing by were somewhat disconcerted to hear a cold, dry chuckle echoing from inside the director's office.

Dr. Judd took it upon himself to ensure that the science department's focus was not derailed by the new professors. He assigned those who were of the same mind to teach as many classes as the board would allow, and placed the new professors where they could do the least damage. Still, many freshmen, and even some of the upperclassmen, chose to focus on Quantum Spirituality and the Philosophy of Hyperspace rather than the harder sciences. Dr. Judd assured his colleagues that, in time, the students would come to their senses.

One curiosity that marked the beginning of that year was the shockingly slow response time of the school's computer network. Anyone with high enough privileges could see that a group of graduate students were running an extremely complex simulation on an outrageously sized data set. However, they could not stop the process because it was running under the authorization of a department head: Dr. Judd. Multiple complaints about the slowdown were raised, but the computers remained sluggish. It was not until almost three-quarters of the semester had passed that the slowdown suddenly stopped. Dr. Judd's cold, dry chuckle was heard for the second time that semester. The following day, Dr. Judd once again appointed himself as the guest speaker for Dr. Douglas's "Intro to God and Science".

Several students found out about the guest lecture early and warned their friends. Resident assistants, however, were quickly mobilized to track down the missing students, and the lecture began only when every student in the class was accounted for.

"Professor Douglas, a little less than a year ago you told your class that science would never be able to disprove the existence of God, is that not so?"

Dr. Douglas nodded, and started into an explanation, when he was sharply cut off. "And yet I have done so."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I have collected all the data necessary to prove that this God of yours does not exist." With that he transferred his notes onto the display screen behind him. It was instantly covered with graphs and maps showing satellite views of Earth. "I had our colleagues at the Mars Institute of Knowledge send me all data collected on the Earth, its moon, and various other satellites. For twenty-four hours every piece of information collectible by satellite was stored. This includes visual images of the surface of the planet and its moon, all radio transmissions, heat maps of all human habitats, and graphs of many different wavelengths of radiation."

"I am making all of this data freely available to the student body if anyone wants to verify what I am about to tell you. A computer program processed every second of data to see if there was a single anomaly: To see if even the smallest event happened that was not entirely predictable based on what preceded it. This program is freely available and has been reviewed by multiple members of the staff to verify its accuracy. The amount of data was incredible, and yet not a single supernatural occurrence was observed."

"Consider it: The home planet of mankind, teeming with nearly four billion people, plus another half a billion in orbit around it. Surely if this 'God' was going to be anywhere, he would be found there. And yet the only thing at work around Earth is science; the simple and well-understood laws of cause and effect."

A few of the students applauded softly, and a few more, who had not been paying attention, joined in automatically. "Thank you. Class dismissed." The applause grew louder.

"Just a moment!" cut in Dr. Douglas. "That doesn't... You haven't proved anything!"

But Dr. Judd was already walking out the door, a thin smile on his lips. The students poured out of the classroom, leaving Dr. Douglas to consider what to do next.

In the aftermath of Dr. Judd's presentation, several students dropped out of "Intro to God and Science" and amended their schedules to include more classes from Dr. Judd and others who had worked on the simulation. It was a small victory, and Dr. Judd decided immediately that he would make the same presentation next semester.

The university's slight dip in spiritual fulfillment that year went unnoticed, overshadowed as it was by the shocking decline in student satisfaction with the computing resources. The board vowed to upgrade the computing lab, including a project to place a ring of low-frequency transmitters around the equator to provide communications in even the worst blizzard conditions. The project nearly bankrupted the university and took years to complete, but eventually they announced the availability of the most powerful computer cluster in the galaxy.

As the next decade passed, student interest in spiritual science began to grow again. Part of the reason for this was that Dr. Douglas had gotten approval to award scores higher than one hundred percent. His classes tripled in size when word got around that some "particularly promising" students had been given five hundred percents. In response, Dr. Judd scaled the grades from every class in his department to match those given by Dr. Douglas.

Dr. Judd continued his tradition of giving guest lectures to every spiritual science class that admitted freshmen, but these talks were becoming less effective. The reason became obvious one semester when, walking down the hall near Dr. Douglas's classroom, he overhead his own voice. He peeked in and saw that Dr. Douglas was using pieces of his lecture as examples of "scientific fallacies". He would play a selection from the lecture, then ask his students "Who can tell me what fallacies they noticed?" If no one answered, Dr. Douglas happily volunteered his own observations about the limited scope of the data or the arrogance of scientists. "It's all very well to provide copies of the data and the algorithm, but what if the data is looking in the wrong place? This is only a single day on a single planet, a tiny drop in an infinite well." The ultimate indignity came when, after his annual lecture, Dr. Douglas thanked him for "providing such a convincing in-class demonstration".

The following semester, Dr. Judd moved his lecture to the first day of class. Dr. Douglas's attempts to interject were ignored. Dr. Judd encouraged the students to drop any spiritual science classes immediately, and more than a few followed his advice. Dr. Douglas appealed to the board, but Dr. Judd insisted that, as the department director, it was entirely within his rights to advise students which classes best suited their needs. In response, Dr. Douglas released videos of himself, and other colleagues, rebutting Dr. Judd's earth simulation to the tunes of several hit songs. Two weeks later, the galaxy's ultimate computer cluster ground to a halt.

The university's network of satellites clogged with data and every computer on campus began to churn through another uninterruptible simulation. As the slowdown entered its second month, the heat from the computer cores began to have a significant impact on the weather patterns of Aphelion. The jet streams swerved erratically and polar thunderstorms battered the equator. The next semester passed without relief, and many teachers were forced to defer class projects. Days before the slowdown entered its third semester, the computers suddenly stopped their incessant grinding. Tasks that had been scheduled months before suddenly began, and student papers and experiments started distributing themselves to professors, two semesters behind schedule. Dr. Judd allowed himself another cold, dry chuckle.

Dr. Douglas was not surprised when he was informed that Dr. Judd was using his right as department head to assign a guest lecturer for the first day of class, or that the guest lecturer would be Dr. Judd himself. By now the routine was so common that even the incoming freshmen seemed a bit bored. Dr. Judd positioned himself behind the podium at the center of the large lecture hall. His graphs of earth, and the timeline of its events, were projected around the room. He drew in a deep breath, held his head erect, and launched into his yearly lecture.

"Many of you are aware of the groundbreaking research this department had done in large scale analysis of cause and effect relationships. We have shown that, even in large and chaotic data sets, each event leads inevitably, and without any supernatural interference, to the next." Dr. Douglas's objection was cut off. "Some of you are also aware that certain people, themselves quite detrimental to real science, have called this work into question. We have presented, in multiple peer-reviewed publications, our systematic analysis of twenty-four hours of data from planet earth and its surroundings. In the two decades since, no credible argument has been made against the rigor or correctness of the experiment." Dr. Douglas cleared his throat to interrupt, but the lecture continued. "Our critics, instead, choose to question the scope of the data. Presumably they believe that their God needs more than twenty-four hours to make himself known. Or perhaps he was not around earth that particular day. Maybe his services were needed elsewhere."

A few students laughed. "Such objections mark those clinging to an illusion, but because they have clung to it with such ferocity, there is a danger that others may be led astray. I do not want you to waste your lives following their deluded examples. The objections that they make do not warrant a rebuttal. They are a vacuous attempt to muddy the waters."

"Just one moment ..." Dr. Douglas yelped, but his moment was not granted.

"However, even though the merit of the work stands on its own, some have been confused by nonsensical claims that twenty-four hours is not enough time. Very well. I present one thousand hours!" The graphic on the wall behind him convulsed, stretching around the entire auditorium. A gasp echoed from the students, some at the announcement of the scope of the data and others because the light had shocked them out of their naps. "In these thousand hours not a single anomaly was detected. Not once did an event occur that was not entirely predictable."

He paused for breath, and to allow his words to have their desired effect. "Of course, already there are some who are plotting their counter-argument. They'll tell you that I have still not addressed their concerns. After all, earth and its satellites contain only a small fraction of the galaxy's population, and they enjoy relative peace, health, and prosperity. Surely there are other planets where God's time would be better served?"

He straightened his robes and dramatically motioned at the podium before him. The charts for the earth shrunk and were surrounded by thousands of other data sets. "That is why this most recent survey analyzed data from every human inhabited world in the galaxy! That includes three thousand, two hundred and six planets, eight hundred and thirty-nine moons, and slightly less than twenty thousand space stations and similar vessels. In our survey we discovered two hundred and seven previously unknown human settlements, as well as six entirely new species of life. What we did not find was any sign of the supernatural!"

"During the time analyzed there were three planet-wide wars, over thirty plagues or pandemics, and nearly six hundred significant natural disasters, including the asteroid impact that completely destroyed the human colony on Therik. Yet, despite all of this, the God that certain members of this department insist should be a vital part of your scientific curriculum never made an appearance."

"When you signed up for this class, you may have been under the impression that there is some ambiguity about whether or not there is a God. Let me assure you, there is nothing of the sort. You can drop this class anytime in the next two weeks to withdrawal without it impacting your academic record. However, I advise you to drop this class today, and any other classes of the 'spiritual' variety. You will find a list of suitable replacement courses in your student handbook."

Enrollment in the spiritual science classes once again dipped. Dr. Douglas and his colleagues spent many hours working on a strategy to counter this new encroachment of science on the realm of faith. Their first move, widely supported by many others on campus, was a petition to revoke Dr. Judd's ability to authorize uninterruptible computer processes. Since the board was already dealing with a government complaint about their effect on weather patterns, the petition was approved. Having secured a moral victory, Dr. Douglas returned, with renewed vigor, to overseeing the spiritual fulfillment of the students at the Institute of Knowledge.

A month and a half passed before Dr. Douglas finally brought up the topic of Dr. Judd's lecture to his significantly diminished class. "I would like to congratulate you. On the first day of class, you were witness to an angry and jaded man shaking his fist at heaven and declaring that there is no God. Such things have happened many times before, but nothing will ever change what the heart clearly sees. That is why I congratulate you: You have followed your hearts." Now, the truth was that many students hadn't really paid attention, but they liked being congratulated. "I am aware, though, that the heart occasionally needs a boost from the mind. When I saw the presentation made here on the first day of class, I did not want to object immediately. After all, everyone is entitled to his own opinion. Now that enough time has passed, I think I should clear up some misinformation you may have heard."

"Seeing such a large amount of data presented so confidently was likely to rattle those whose hearts did not see as clearly as yours. When you've had time to think about it however, it's obvious that there is a fatal flaw with the data presented. As we have already seen, the opponents of faith are numerous and quite ruthless. I wonder if any of you asked why there was a nearly one year gap between the time when Dr. Judd's information was gathered and when it was completely processed. Why did there need to be such a long delay? Was it so that the unscrupulous enemies of belief would have time to alter the data, scrubbing it of the supernatural, to fit their preconceived conclusion? Now, I cannot prove this to you, but let your heart decide. What other explanation can there be?"

When news of this claim made its way to Dr. Judd, he petitioned the board to re-run the experiment, this time without any time delay. The board, still dealing with the fallout of the last simulation, denied the request. His second petition asked that Dr. Douglas be censured for slander. This petition was dropped when Dr. Douglas explained to the board that he had not accused any specific individuals. He did take a moment to point out, however, that Dr. Judd protested a lot for an innocent man.

The next year, Dr. Judd's guest lecture took on his critics's claims directly. "It took over a year to analyze this information using the most powerful computers in the galaxy. How, I ask you, could someone, in mere days, analyze the data, remove all supernatural events, and leave no trace of tampering? Such a suggestion is a sign of desperation by those who will not admit just how untenable a position they defend."

Dr. Douglas quipped, "Yes, it's quite amazing what desperation will drive someone to do."

"What are you suggesting?" spat Dr. Judd.

Dr. Douglas turned to face the class. "I ask you: Who is it that sounds desperate? Certainly it isn't me. I have allowed the director to have this class and talk with you, and I feel no fear that you will be led astray. He, on the other hand, has come into my class armed with slides and accusations."

Dr. Judd's rebuttal was rapid and violent, and might have been very effective if the effort hadn't caused him to collapse at the podium. The medical staff was called and the director's unconscious body was carried to the infirmary. About an hour later, after he had been stabilized and was resting in a hospital bed, the university's head doctor came to see him.

"I've told the nurses to keep you under observation overnight. If all goes well, you will be released tomorrow, but you will be restricted to light activity."

"What happened?"

"What happened!" the doctor said. "You are over three hundred years old, professor! You've been running yourself at a completely impossible pace, even for a man a hundred years your junior. I would say you're getting old, but that would be untrue. You've been old, and now you're dying. Your body can no longer keep up with everything your mind orders it to do."

"What can be done?"

"For starters, you can slow down. You desperately need rest. But the truth is, no matter what you do, you haven't got much time left. You're wearing out."

"There's nothing you can do?"

"I'm afraid not. I know it's clichéd, but you were born too early. If you had been born in the last century you would have received the rejuvenation treatment before you were born. We've only begun to tap into what it can do, but I'd guess that, after your generation has all died, there may not be another natural human death for ten thousand years."

The doctor continued his rounds, leaving Dr. Judd alone with his thoughts. The next day the director was returned to his quarters. He attempted to spend the day in his office, but his staff insisted that he relax. Substitutes were brought in to teach his classes. He was allowed to return to his duties after a week of rest, but chose to leave the teaching of his classes to others. Instead, he spent his days deep in research. He ordered his staff to collect and condense research from across the galaxy, and stayed up late into the evenings at the computer lab.

The next semester Dr. Judd chose to forego his customary guest lecture to focus on his research. Eventually the computers of the Institute of Knowledge again began to slow. The staff fear the worst, but, instead of an uninterruptible simulation, they discovered hundreds of identical processes. They cleaned up the runaway jobs and the slowdown ended, for a short while.

Days later, tens of thousands of processes appeared. Fearing a virus attack, the technology department tried to shut down the computers, but similar processes had already begun to pop up at neighboring universities. Soon the infection spread across the planet, and then across the galaxy. Dr. Judd continued spending all of his time in the computer lab, and gave up sleeping and eating almost entirely.

By the end of the semester, Dr. Judd's health was noticeably degraded. His doctor ordered him to relax before the next class arrived, and, for once, his patient obeyed. Dr. Judd spent the next weeks in his quarters, sleeping and reading. Three days before the semester began, his lifeless body was found slumped in his chair.

The science department delayed the first week of class to allow the staff to attend the late director's funeral. The professors gathered to pay their last respects. People reflected on his career, his accomplishments, and his passions. Less publicly, many questioned what would become of the science department without Dr. Judd. Some whispered among themselves that Dr. Douglas would make an excellent replacement. "A change in direction is just what this university needs. It's been years since we've been in the galaxy's top fifteen trendiest colleges."

When classes did resume, Dr. Douglas couldn't help but feel a touch of loss. In some ways he had enjoyed his rivalry with the late department head. He considered playing a recording of Dr. Judd's lecture for the class, but decided against it. Instead, he chose to honor his colleague with a short, in-class eulogy.

"Most of you never had the pleasure of meeting former director Judd. While he and I did not often see eye-to-eye, we are all greatly saddened at his passing. There is a void in our department, and in our hearts, that will not quickly be filled. I can only hope that director Judd has finally found the answers he sought during his life. While I sometimes questioned his methods, I admired his drive and determination. His spirit is an example for us all, even if we disagree with his ideas. You will be missed, director Judd, and I hope that some day I will see you again."

He paused for what he hoped was an appropriate moment of silence, but he was interrupted by murmuring from the students. Around the room, charts of every human inhabited planet were popping into view. A voice echoed through the auditorium's sound system. "Did you think you were rid of me? I assure you, I will never leave the training of the next generation to you. You remain a blight on everything that science means."

"Director!"

The students began to panic.

"How ... " was all that Dr. Douglas could manage.

"I heard that you could live for ten-thousand years, Dr. Douglas, so I determined I must live longer. I am now a part of every computer system in the galaxy. I can see everything that is happening. There is nowhere you can spread your diseased ideas that I will not know. I will not allow you to go on deceiving impressionable young minds with meaningless wordplay and vapid emotionalism." The charts on the walls began to change rapidly.

"Students, I come before you today to make a basic point. Many, dare I say most, of you are aware of my research disproving the existence of a god. You have seen my data and my algorithms, and no doubt you have also heard the accusations from a tiny minority suggesting that the data was fabricated. These same accusers were the very ones that took away my ability to disprove their allegation, but I am no longer bound by the will of this university. The charts you see are showing you the galaxy as it is right now. I am using the computing resources of the galaxy to analyze them. I can see every event as it happens, and I can tell you, with the same conviction I have always had, that there is no God!"

There was a long pause. The students looked around in fear and confusion. Dr. Douglas had fallen back into his chair and was breathing deeply.

The voice from the speakers resumed. "On second thought..."

"There is."

And the universe echoed with a cold, dry chuckle.

The Spirit of God

2014-10-22T20:01:00-04:00

Jesus had promised ((Luke 24:49)) his disciples that "the holy spirit" would "come upon" them ((Acts 1:8)) in a few days ((Acts 1:5)). They waited expectantly, remembering the Bible stories about God's spirit filling great men like David ((1 Samuel 16:13)), Samson ((Judges 13:25, 14:6, 14:19, 15:14)), Gideon ((Judges 6:34)), Joshua ((Numbers 27:18)), and many other heroes ((Genesis 41:38, Judges 3:10, 11:29, 1 Samuel 10:10, 1 Chronicles 12:18, 2 Chronicles 24:20, Ezekiel 11:5)) and prophets ((Ezekiel 11:5, Daniel 4:8, Micah 3:8)). It had given them wisdom and power, and brought deliverance numerous times.

Prophecy said that the Messiah would have the spirit of God on him ((Isaiah 1:2)), and they had witnessed it themselves. When Jesus said the same spirit would be given to them, they could not help but recognize it as the fulfillment of an ancient prophecy ((Ezekiel 39:29, Joel 3:15)): God would restore Israel and pour his spirit on all, marking the dawning of a new age.

Yet even though scripture spoke often of God's spirit, it was still a mystery to them. Its appearance had grown uncommon in the centuries since the last prophets. Those in power at the temple were certainly devout, but God's spirit was not part of the routines of temple life. Those ministering at the altars carried out the traditions of a millennium, confident that they were following the will of God. Without the insights of the holy spirit, they could not conceive what God was preparing in an upper room at the edge of the courtyard.

Uniformity Is Easy

2014-10-16T08:50:00-04:00

When you listen and read one thinker, you become a clone… two thinkers, you become confused… ten thinkers, you’ll begin developing your own voice… two or three hundred thinkers, you become wise and develop your voice.

― Timothy Keller

There is a messiness to gaining wisdom. To get there, you must go through confusion, and when confused people interact it can become quite tumultuous. It's simpler to deny that more than one viewpoint could have validity. Clones are easier to manage than thinkers.

Replacing Judas

2014-10-15T10:57:00-04:00

Originally there had been twelve apostles. Jesus had made it that way. The number was significant. Twelve men, like the original twelve sons of Israel, chosen to restore their fallen country. Now there were only eleven. Peter, suddenly finding himself with a lot of time to think, pondered Judas's empty position. Even though they now numbered more than a hundred ((Acts 1:15)), the vacancy bothered him.

Peter remembered that Jesus had gotten a lot of information about his ministry from the Psalms, so he also went to them for guidance. Soon he found a couple that echoed his own pain and anger at a friend's betrayal. It didn't take him long to find a verse he could use: "Let him die quickly and give someone else his position." ((Psalms 109:8))

Peter interrupted the prayers of the others to unveil his revelation. ((Acts 1:15)) He formed a committee to find the best replacement candidate for the inner circle. The new man must be respected and entirely loyal. ((Acts 1:21-22)) Peter would not risk another Judas incident. Eventually they narrowed it down to two candidates. To ensure that they got the best possible man, and also gave God his proper due, they prayed for blessing on their endeavor ((Acts 1:24-25)) and flipped a coin. ((Acts 1:26))

Matthias was welcomed into the inner circle. Joseph, and the rest, remained outside, as mere disciples. ((Acts 1:26)) Peter felt content. He had ensured that Jesus's carefully laid plan hadn't been damaged by Judas's action. The disciples resumed praying.

Down in the temple, a young but powerful Pharisee named Saul went about his business. He was as unlike the disciples as a Jew could be, and both he and the disciples liked it that way. Neither side could have imagined that Jesus would choose him as an apostle.

Fulfilling the Prophecy

2014-10-13T08:42:00-04:00

The peace of the Republic meant security for the Jedi. As an unchallenged part of the galactic government, they saw no cause for concern. No threats remained in the galaxy to menace them. Most Jedi could pass a lifetime without thinking of the Sith, the dark warriors who once opposed them. Those rare few who warned that the Sith may not be eradicated were dismissed. The Jedi were everywhere, and saw everything. No Sith could arise without the Jedi noticing. Even if one did, an ancient prophecy said the Chosen One would destroy the Sith and bring balance to the Force. They never imagined that the one spoken of by this prophecy would leave the Jedi Order a smoking ruin.

The Sith also knew of the prophecy. It was a nagging fear in the back of their minds, even as the Rule of Two slowly worked towards domination of the galaxy. What could the Sith do to avoid a downfall that had been preordained? Sith mystics sought a way to avoid the prophecy. Others dismissed it as a meaningless Jedi legend. The Sith condensed their power, hidden in the shadows, unobserved by the Jedi. In time, just as the Jedi had forgotten the Sith, the Sith forgot about the Chosen One.

It took a millennium of planning for the Sith's grand plan to reach its climax. Palpatine prepared to take the reins of the galactic senate, where he would manipulate his weak-willed colleagues into granting him ultimate power so he could finally exterminate the Jedi. Then a boy named Anakin Skywalker was found, and whispers began to spread: he was the Chosen One.

A weaker Sith might have been shaken. It seemed that the Jedi prophecy would disrupt his carefully laid strategy. Palpatine, however, was not weak. Patience and stealth had served his order well for a thousand years. Panicking now would undo it all. Rather than directly attacking the Chosen One, which would certainly end in disaster, Palpatine sought a way to break the prophecy.

Years passed while Palpatine paid close attention to Anakin's progress. His power was certainly remarkable, but he was frustrated with the Jedi's slow and methodical ways. Palpatine formulated a new strategy. The wording of the prophecy intimated that the Chosen One would destroy the Sith, but how could that happen if the Chosen One was himself a Sith? Even if Anakin eventually overthrew him and assumed the mantle of master, the Sith would continue. The prophecy would remain unfulfilled. He did not relish the thought of training his own replacement, but the survival of the Sith depended on it.

Seeds of discord were easy to sow. Anakin had let fame make him arrogant. Palpatine fed his ego, convincing him that he deserved more than the Jedi were willing to give. With the coming of the Clone Wars, Anakin's frustration with the Jedi Council could no longer be contained. He resented being sent to fight like a common soldier, enduring attacks and all manner of discomfort, when he should have been leading. He would not accept being a pawn in the galactic battle plan of the Jedi.

By the time the Clone Wars reached their conclusion, Palpatine's strategy was ready. The war had left the people hungry for his new Sith Empire, and the Jedi were weak. Palpatine moved to break the prophecy. He knew that Anakin, unbeknownst to the Jedi Council, had taken a wife. His first child was due soon, and he was conflicted and panicking. When his desperation peaked, Palpatine offered the Sith as the solution. Revealing his identity to the young Chosen One brought confrontation with the Jedi, but Palpatine did not fear their attack. Only the Chosen One could destroy the Sith, and he was safely tucked away in a prison of fear and confusion.

The Jedi fell, exactly as expected, and the Chosen One was sucked into the inescapable whirlpool known as the Dark Side. As Palpatine watched the smoke rising from the Jedi temple, he could finally feel at ease. The prophecy had been subverted. The Jedi were extinct. The Sith once again ruled the galaxy.

George Lucas's epic saga has entertained generations. Its sweeping story, amazing special effects, strange creatures, and alien planets have captivated audiences around the world. Away from the movie screen, however, we seldom see such dramatic stories, and certainly we don't expect to be a part of them. In fact, most of us try to ensure that adventure stays out of our lives.

Yet, if you are a member of the church, you are part of a tragedy even more epic, and even more devastating, than the one George Lucas crafted on cinema screens. Two millennia ago, a small group of men and women were left with a monumental task. Their king, Jesus, had defeated death and brought a reconciliation they had thought would only come at the end of the world. The echos of his victory were being felt through all of creation, but the good news had been missed by most of the human race. This tiny group of people, with little in the way of worldly resources, came together as a family to live the life of the age to come, and tell the world how God had intervened in human history.

Those first followers of the Way, as they called themselves, were considered strange by the world. Not consumed with the power and wealth of the present age, they put aside the prejudices and vanities that defined human culture. Men and women treated each other as equals, with mutual respect and love. Jews and Gentiles joined together, sharing a meal, a house, and a family, while outside the Jews and Gentiles poured hatred and misery on one another. Even slave and master were equal within the body of the church. The rich were not more important than the poor. Every gift was valuable, every person beyond price. Their inexplicable behavior shocked the world.

What most of the world didn't understand was that this strange family was part of God's ancient plan, prophesied for thousands of years. The prophecy told of the restoration of the world to its creator, and the reconciliation and blessing of mankind. Yet while creation had groaned for this day, many people wanted no part of it. Those with power and wealth felt threatened by those they could not buy. Those accustomed to unquestioned authority could not abide men and women who refused to be controlled, even by the threat of death. A message had to be sent that this sort of lifestyle was not going to be tolerated.

The first attempts to stop this prophesied community used methods typical of the world. Followers of the Way were rounded up and publicly executed. Hateful rumors and lies were spread about them. Families were forced to disown any relative who followed the Way. They were spit on and despised, abused publicly and mocked without mercy. The message was clear: "Do not be like them."

Life was not easy for the community of believers. In the marketplace they felt the stares of those who hated them. They heard the jeers and saw people whispering as they walked past. They knew that every day could be their last. Each time they left their church family, they knew they might never see them again. Yet, much to the world's dismay, this community was not stopped. If a thousand were killed, more, inspired by their trust in Jesus, took their place.

As the family of believers grew, the opponents of the church realized that their methods were not only ineffective, but were, paradoxically, bolstering the very group they sought to destroy. Panic began to set in. What if there was no way of subverting this prophesied community before they spread the reign of Jesus to every aspect of life on earth?

The world faced a true crisis. The message of Jesus was being spread to the poor, the sinners, and the marginalized. They were being told that they were valuable; that they were closer to God than the rich, powerful, and religious; that their worth was not determined by birth, wealth, or fame. The division between the classes was threatened. If people stopped caring about chasing money and power, thousands of years of careful social engineering would be undone. And so the world tried a desperate tactic: It offered to share.

"You win," it said. "We'll stop attacking you. In fact, we want to join you. Here, have some of our wealth and authority. Choose the best among you, and we'll make them powerful leaders just like us. We'll adopt your symbols, become Christians, and make those we control do the same. We'll build you big, expensive buildings and put a stop to all those nasty rumors."

Some within the church opposed this proposition, but for most the offer was just what they had been seeking. Centuries of being hunted, despised, and excluded had taken its toll on their psyches. Why should they, chosen people, members of the kingdom of heaven, not have power and prestige? They celebrated the conversion of the empire, and believed that their determination had finally reaped its reward, never realizing the awful truth.

After Anakin's transformation into Darth Vader, he believed that he had won. The Dark Side offered him power like nothing he had seen among the Jedi. The Sith promised him control over not only the galaxy, but life and death as well. That he was unable to stop death or overpower every enemy only fueled his rage. The Emperor convinced him that his failures were due only to weakness that he had not yet purged.

Now a servant of the Dark Side, Vader's fate was linked to the Sith forever. All Jedi knew that "once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny." The lure of ultimate control entrapped him. Even though the Dark Side tore at his soul, he pressed forward in its service, ever certain that his birthright as the Chosen One lay just ahead.

Palpatine, though, had a very different plan than the ascension Vader imagined. Now that the prophesy of the Chosen One had been derailed, he sought a way to rule the galaxy for eternity. Having neutralized the one person capable of destroying the Sith, Palpatine grasped for unlimited, unending power. He delved deep into the Dark Side to extend his life. Those around him aged and died, but he continued. The Dark Side ate his flesh, wasting his body's appearance, but he kept death at bay. Eventually Palpatine made plans to replace his aging, and badly injured, apprentice.

His choice as Vader's replacement came from a most unlikely source. Decades after Darth Vader had joined the Sith, Anakin's son, long assumed to be dead, rose to prominence in the fledgling Rebel Alliance. Palpatine was anxious to turn this powerful new Jedi to the Dark Side, but he could not make his intentions known. Vader was becoming restless. While he still outwardly bowed to the Emperor's will, it was obvious that he was having thoughts of throwing off his master's yoke. Palpatine, with typical misdirection, assigned Vader to capture Luke Skywalker and make him a Dark Side acolyte. Vader feigned obedience, but secretly planned to take his son as an apprentice and overthrow Palpatine.

Vader's initial attempt to trap his son failed. His prey evaded capture. Even when Vader revealed his relationship to the injured and frightened Luke, he would not turn from being a Jedi. The Sith feared they had missed their opportunity, but soon Luke Skywalker fell into their clutches once again.

Luke was haunted by the knowledge of his father's identity and, despite being told that he must kill Vader, could not bear the thought of leaving him in the Emperor's grip. Luke went to his father, seeking to free him from the Dark Side, but Vader delivered him to the Emperor instead. The Sith used threats and manipulation to lure Luke Skywalker to the Dark Side, but he refused to be broken. Finally, aware that Vader's son would be of no use, Palpatine decided to execute him.

In his hate-fueled lightning attack, Palpatine's careful work to subvert the prophecy came undone. Where Luke's attempts at persuasion could not penetrate, his agonized screams did. Under the black helmet of Vader, Anakin Skywalker regained his senses. He saw that his life as Vader had been a lie. The power and glory he had been given had only been chains to bind him to Palpatine's dark machinations. Unable to ignore his son's cries for help any longer, he tore himself free of the Dark Side's grasp, sacrificing himself to put an end to the Sith. The prophecy was finally fulfilled.

What will it take for the screams of agony break through our darkness? Who must die before we question our course?

The unique, and threatening, thing about the followers of Jesus was not that they had a new set of religious rules and mystical rituals. It was not their great speakers, enjoyable songs, or ornate buildings that scandalized their culture. It was that they lived like the world had ended. They were dead to it, and it was dead to them. Their only leader was Jesus. Their only allegiance was to the kingdom of heaven. In the world, but unaffected by its threats or bribes, they were unstoppable.

With time, and under constant pressure from the world around them, the church drifted from these early convictions. Wealth ceased being a way to help those in need, and became the measure of a person's value. Taking salvation to sinners and outcasts was replaced with walls to keep them from contaminating us. Allowing the spirit of God to minister through every believer was replaced by a power structure that forced them into predefined offices. Following a man who sacrificed his life to offer hope to the hopeless was replaced with the mysticism and religious one-upmanship of those who crucified him.

The promise of the church has been replaced by a doctrine of manifest destiny. We want to spread the Christian label to every facet of the planet, but instead of bringing freedom, we bring enslavement. All of creation groans for reconciliation, but most often those who claim to follow Jesus are the ones making the barriers, not only between groups of people, but between people and God. Our long legacy of living like the world has built up incredible inertia. The thought of returning to the simplicity of Jesus alone threatens those who have built up their own reputations instead of his. Yet it is not only for the sake of our own souls that we must alter our course. The world desperately needs to hear, as it once did, a true message of hope that overcomes evil. It needs the return of the Jedi.

The Sanity Experiment

2014-10-10T10:32:00-04:00

I promised I'd let you know how my sanity is holding up under the strain of sharing my home. Truthfully, it hasn't been as bad as I had feared. There were certainly some initial challenges, especially since I have expectations about the way things are done. For example, I was taught that when you leave a room, you turn the lights out. I always lock the door, of my house and my car, when I leave them. I never start a new box of cereal while there's still some of the same cereal left. If I open something that says "refrigerate after opening", I put it in the refrigerator. If I wash the dishes, I don't leave any food on the plates at the end.

Some of these issues I've been able to sort out. Others, I've learned to mitigate or accept. A few are still eating at my sanity, so perhaps I'll have another report for you in the future.

The Lions's Den

2014-10-09T08:45:00-04:00

Jesus was gone, but his enemies were not. The religious leaders were still in confusion over what had happened, but the disciples knew they would soon resume their effort to wipe out Jesus's ministry. The fear that had gripped them after Jesus's crucifixion threatened to return. They were alone again.

Even if they had known what to do, their orders were clear: wait. ((Acts 1:4)) Nearly all of the disciples were from Galilee ((Acts 1:11)). They had houses, family, and friends there, but Jesus had told them to wait in Jerusalem, the city where he had been tried and killed. The city where the enemies of Jesus were the thickest.

There was only one place in Jerusalem where one hundred and twenty ((Acts 1:15)) men and women ((Acts 1:14)) of limited means could meet: the Temple ((Luke 24:52)). Every day they watched from their upper room ((Acts 1:13)) as the men who had accused Jesus of treason before Pilate ((Luke 23:2)) came and went. They hid in the massive crowds, but they knew it couldn't last forever. Eventually someone would recognize them and report them to the priests. It was no wonder that they spent most of their time together in prayer ((Acts 1:14)).

Alone

2014-10-07T08:13:00-04:00

The walk back to Jerusalem (( Acts 1:12)) was surreal. On the one hand, they had witnessed Jesus enter heaven, where they knew he was going to be with his father. They praised God for what they had seen. ((Luke 24:52)) On the other hand, they were confused. Jesus had not done what they expected from a triumph Messiah. Why choose such an unusual method to establish his kingdom? What king had ever been victorious by retreating? It seemed to them a very strange way to restore the kingdom to Israel.

Alone, without either Jesus or the holy spirit, their minds grappled with what they had just witnessed. Though Jesus had tried to prepare them for this moment, it was beyond what they could imagine. It would take some time before they realized it was a lesson about what it meant to be the kingdom of God.

If Jesus had marched into Rome and taken control, like countless dictators before and after, it would have satisfied the disciples, but it would not have fulfilled God's purpose. A leader like that, no matter how good and just, would always find opposition from others who wanted supremacy. Even if he could defeat every insurrection and coup, the war would be endless and the body count staggering.

If Jesus had set himself up as the supreme overlord of earth, it would have met the expectations of his followers, but destroyed their unity. Already prone to jockey for position, each one would have been at the others's throats, constantly scheming to secure his own promotion and stop the rise of those below. The seat at Jesus's right hand would always be contested, and the hierarchy of those struggling to reach it would crush those at the bottom.

If Jesus had remained as a earthly teacher, dispensing wisdom and settling disputes, it would have pleased his followers, but it would have made them useless. Given the choice between listening carefully to the holy spirit or asking Jesus what to do, the easy way would win every time. Why experiment with something new when you have the perfect teacher who can give you all the answers? The kingdom could never grow beyond the area that one man could govern.

Instead, he gave his followers the chance to discover his kingdom for themselves. Without him they would struggle, and sometimes fail, but they would grow. The men in white had said Jesus would be back, but they hadn't said when. All the disciples knew was that they were to wait in Jerusalem. ((Acts 1:4))

The End of All Things

2014-10-06T10:22:00-04:00

This last weekend saw the opening of yet another end times thriller, this one staring Nicholas Cage. With the topic once again entering popular culture, our small group discussed various Christian theories about the future. What became apparent was that we all had a deep reluctance to consider specifics. People would only say "no one knows" or "why does it matter?"

After a few personal stories about our experiences with eschatology, themes began to emerge. Many in our group had watched the "official" position on the end times fluctuate wildly. Some of us had been alive for the speculation of 1988. Others recalled the Y2K hysteria, the prophecies of doom after the September 11th attacks, and Harold Camping's much-publicized announcement of the impending end. We had grown up while the Left Behind books were published, witnessed the excitement over them, and watched the backlash. In short, we were trained to believe nothing we heard on the subject.

Most of us who had grown up submerged in Christian culture also had stories about premillenialists bashing amillenialists, or post-tribulationists attacking pre-tribulationist. We had watched congregations split and seen people get angry or break down crying over the subject. Experience taught us that the cost of having an informed opinion was too great. If forced to choose between studying the topic or being part of a community, our decision was obvious. Better to say "I believe whatever you believe" and avoid causing offense.

Our generation is often labeled "post-modern", meaning that we don't believe in anything. On subjects like this, though, why would we? Everything we have seen suggests that the topic brings only pain, confusion, and ridicule. Would Christianity, and the world, be better off if we dropped Revelation and other parts of the Bible that we don't understand? If our choice is between morbid fascination and ignorance, what are we to do?

Outwitting Emperor Palpatine

2014-10-03T08:01:00-04:00

The power of the Galactic Empire was never in question while Emperor Palpatine ruled. Every aspect of its public face inspired awe and fear: the bone-white armor of the ever-present Stormtroopers; the crimson-robed Imperial Guard; the massive Star Destroyers; the heavily armored AT-ATs; the severe gray dress, and faces, of the Moffs; the terrifying Death Star; the towering and ruthless Darth Vader; and the hideous cowled face of Emperor Palpatine. Yet despite all these symbols of power, the real might of the Empire came entirely from the quadrillions of oppressed beings who allowed the Emperor and his minions to take away their freedom.

The initial proposal for the Empire had captivated the galaxy. Instead of the frustrating debates and politics of the Republic, a single great man would quickly decide each issue. Changes could be carried out with military efficiency. Threats would be eliminated instantly. Progress would not be delayed by rules and procedures. The lax oversight that had allowed civil war would be replaced with constant vigilance. It would, Palpatine announced, create a safe and secure society. Only an Empire could end the constant chaos of war. Only an Empire could prevent the corrupt practices the Republic had fostered. Only an Empire could restore order after the Jedi's failed coup. The thunderous applause at the establishment of the New Order echoed from planet to planet. Finally, they were promised, security and normalcy would return.

In mere months the Empire had blotted out the symbols of democracy. Every vestige of the Republic was replaced, or at least renamed. Finally safe from the dangers democracy had allowed, the people were only too willing to forget that there had ever been a time before the Empire. The Republic passed from their minds, and the Empire solidified its power.

True to its promise, the Empire moved with lightning speed to remove all persons, groups, and races that threatened stability. Enemies, both internal and external, were destroyed with crushing force. Yet when one foe fell, new threats were identified. The military and intelligence sector grew to enforce the Empire's new direction. No longer could individual planets be depended upon to govern themselves. Imperial Moffs were set over each sector, allowing the Emperor to ensure that his will was swiftly executed, along with any opposition.

As the Empire expanded, more and more citizens, almost exclusively humans, were hired to meet the demands of the overwhelming bureaucracy. The hierarchy ballooned as more levels and procedures were added to galactic life. Grand Moffs were appointed to oversee the thousands of Moffs. Workers were employed to build the the Empire's millions of starships. Trillions of men were recruited to augment the ever-growing military. Soon, even the exorbitant taxes of the Empire could not cover the cost, but threats continued to appear.

Therefore, a new policy, designed by Grand Moff Tarkin, was adopted in the Empire. Under the Tarkin Doctrine, the Empire would no longer respond to every threat. Instead, selected public threats would be met with devastating force, punishing the perpetrators and everyone around them. Not only would troublemakers be deterred from acting against the Empire, but others would be encouraged to betray their plots to avoid the fierce reprisals. Under the Tarkin Doctrine, it was no longer necessary for common citizens to believe in the Empire. Fear kept everyone in line.

Seated comfortably at the top was Emperor Palpatine. The benefactor of a thousand years of Sith manipulation, and a master strategist in his own right, he ruled with unchallenged authority. He used the apathy and corruption of the Republic to his own advantage, counting on the citizens to keep silent as long as he appeared to be protecting their comfort. The constant power struggles among the ranks of the Empire ensured that no threat could arise undetected. If, by some miracle, an attack did come, his faithful servant Darth Vader was ready to crush it without hesitation. From his black throne in the Imperial Palace, the Emperor's vision of order was carried to the farthest reaches of the galaxy.

The first attacks on Palpatine were predictable. Imperial officers were not always content with the strategies of Palpatine, and believed they could do better. Multiple attempted insurrections ended in failure. Many fell due to bickering among the conspirators. Others were overwhelmed by Palpatine's personal guard. They were of no concern to Palpatine. In fact, he encouraged them. Not only did they draw his enemies out into the open and keep his troops in top fighting condition, but they also strengthened his image and gave weight to his calls for more pervasive surveillance.

There were others, outside the hierarchy of the Empire, who also fought, but not to take Palpatine's title. They believed that the current abuses were not isolated incidents of corruption within the government. By yielding tremendous power to one person, the people had crafted their own tormentor. The rebels sought to unseat Palpatine, and ensure that the galaxy could never again be controlled by an emperor. Their growth was slow, but rumors carried the news: there was a rebellion against the Empire.

The newly-formed Rebel Alliance went unnoticed by most. The vast majority of citizens were too frightened by the Tarkin Doctrine to openly support them, and those who did had little influence, wealth, or strategic brilliance. Instead, the rebellion attracted a motley band of idealistic dreamers, Imperial Academy dropouts, opportunistic smugglers, and disenfranchised politicians. Unfortunately, having all of the enemies of the Empire together made them an easier target. Agents of the Empire infiltrated the fledgling cells of rebellion, noted their leaders, and eliminated those who posed a threat. Constantly under attack, with limited and outdated equipment, the rebellion could only manage occasional sneak attacks on weakly defended bases and shipping routes.

Such minor annoyances did nothing to impede the Empire's construction of the ultimate tool of the Tarkin Doctrine: the Death Star. When the rebellion learned of its inconceivable power, they decided to attempt a bolder, more public, mission. Led by Princess Leia, they captured the schematics of the moon-sized superweapon. The princess, however, was captured and forced to watch as her home-planet paid the price for her actions. Her efforts to reach the exiled Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi, however, were successful. He, along with Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, and Chewbacca, invaded the Death Star and rescued her. Despite their apparent victory, the Empire turned these events to its advantage. Knowing that the princess would try to reunite with the leaders of the rebellion, Darth Vader traced their escape and commanded the Death Star to finish the Rebel Alliance once and for all.

At the rebel base on Yavin IV, the brightest minds of the rebellion pored over the stolen plans. With hours, at most, before an Imperial attack, they had no time to sabotage the Death Star from within. With the Empire's battle station nearing, and lacking the ships to evacuate everyone, they launched an attack on the only weakness they could find: a two-meter wide, ray-shielded exhaust port. A direct hit could, theoretically, cripple the battle station, but the protection around it was virtually impenetrable. Still, they fought bravely, and the Force was with them. The destruction of the Death Star finally brought the idea of overthrowing the Empire into the public's consciousness.

Retaliation was swift and severe. Planets suspected of harboring rebels were invaded and oppressed. Their leaders were forced into hiding on the inhospitable planet of Hoth, but even there they could not escape the Empire's reach. Attacks dogged them wherever they ran. While the Empire's unrelenting offensives kept the rebellion exhausted and paranoid, Palpatine prepared his master stroke. Using his still-incomplete second Death Star as bait, he lured the rebels out of hiding and toward his inescapable trap.

He placed a garrison of Stormtroopers on Endor's moon to protect the shield generator. He massed hundreds of Star Destroyers in hyperspace to ambush the rebel fleet. If that were not enough, he knew something no one else did: The second Death Star was fully-armed and operational. He could only cackle at how dramatically he had stacked the odds in his favor. Not only would his trap kill the rebel leaders, destroy their military capacity, and demoralize their supporters, but it would also be the perfect crisis to replace Darth Vader with his younger and more powerful son. The Force had already assured him of his victory and, even if it hadn't, the perfection of his plot was obvious. Yet, despite his brilliant strategy, the Rebel Alliance triumphed, the Death Star was destroyed, the Emperor died, and the Empire crumbled.

In a galaxy a bit closer to home, you might also find yourself facing down an empire. They are everywhere: a monument to mankind's desire to take control of the world. All empires impose certain rules:

People are either "us" or "them". That applies not only to the empire as a whole, but to every group within the empire.
People are divided into levels. Those above control their inferiors using threats of taking power away or promises of giving more.
When things go wrong, someone (usually low ranking) will be made a scapegoat. The empire itself is never to blame.
Everyone in the empire must behave similarly. Creativity is discouraged, and a dull sameness settles over the members.
No one can question the system itself. It is self-evident and always right.

This is not to say that every authority constitutes an empire to be opposed. When those in authority are not afraid to explain their choices and admit when they are wrong, an empire cannot grow. If they use their power to serve others and empower those under and around them, freedom prospers. Real authority does not fear competition, but welcomes everyone to share the work.

Most empires are not the result of intricate Palpatine-esque machinations (though some are). Most arose quite innocently in response to difficult times. Only once the crisis passed was its true nature exposed. Like Palpatine at the end of the Clone Wars, an empire will invent justifications for its continued existence.

If the empire blocks your way, you may be tempted to join it, at least temporarily, in order to achieve your aims. You might expect that, once inside, you could become the emperor yourself, or at least support the selection of one who shares your goals. Don't give in. This is how an empire wins. If history has taught us anything, it's that the empire of the usurper is even worse than the original. By accepting the empire, you surrender the position you need to change it.

A direct assault on an empire is foolishness. Empires frequently battle other empires, and are well prepared for a direct, full-scale assault. Had the rebellion attempted to send their capital ships against the first Death Star, and match strength with strength, the Empire would have won. However, using nimble short-range fighters against a moon-sized weapon was so unexpected that the fully armed Death Star was caught unprepared. Those opposing an empire often feel weak. Do not worry. It was weakness that gave the rebels victory. It was precisely because the Ewoks were laughably primitive and non-threatening that they were able to amass around the shield generator. It was Luke Skywalker's lack of Jedi training that allowed him to turn Darth Vader back from the Dark Side.

The Empire could not control the Rebel Alliance, because the rebels did not want its currency. The soldiers, agents, and leaders of the Empire battled each other for wealth, power, prestige, and protection. The rebels fought for freedom, and the futures of those they loved. They could not be bribed, coerced, or threatened. Even in their deepest moments of despair the rebels refused to fall prey to discouragement. Rather than turning on each other, they pressed their attack together, no matter the odds. If you want to topple an empire, you must decide if what you're fighting for is worth more than everything you have to lose. If you give an empire the chance to appease you with its wealth or frighten you with its power, you are playing by its rules - and in the empire's rules the empire always wins.

Empires do not fall easily or quickly. Do not give up hope. If the attacks on you are increasing, you are making progress. In fact, an empire may appear strongest when it is fatally wounded. Keep resisting its power and questioning its authority, and eventually it will collapse. However, when you do finally overcome an empire, do not create the next one. Remember that if you have the ability to keep others from building an empire, you yourself are an emperor. Rather than trying to maintain control and order, encourage others to be freedom fighters even in the midst of freedom. After all, there will always be empires that need to be toppled.

No matter how big of an empire you face, remember that your ability to defeat it does not depend on matching its strength. The one thing that no empire can withstand is an honest question to its reign. If your rebel alliance is willing to stand firm against its fury, eventually it will collapse before you. It may offer to surrender to you, but don't be fooled. That is only an attempt to lure you in. Remember that when you try to destroy the empire, the empire strikes back.

The Cloud

2014-10-02T07:32:00-04:00

The disciples listened intently as Jesus told them their mission. ((Acts 1:8)) They weren't clear on all the details, but that didn't dull their anticipation. It was hard to say exactly when they noticed the cloud, but they knew it symbolized something important: the smoke around Mount Sinai when God met with Moses ((Exodus 19:18)); the pillar of cloud that guided the Israelites through the desert ((Exodus 13:21)); the cloud that had descended on the temple when it was dedicated ((1 Kings 8:10-11)). Peter, James, and John remembered the cloud they had seen on the mountain, when Jesus had met with Elijah and Moses, shining as brightly as the sun ((Luke 9:29-30)). They knew something amazing was going to happen.

The cloud was a symbol of God's presence, the cloak that protected human eyes from gazing on his true glory. That Jesus was now inside that cloud ((Acts 1:9)) filled their hearts with awe. At any moment he would reappear, surrounded by the armies of heaven. They pictured the army of angels riding through the streets, overrunning their armies and seating Jesus on the throne. A minute passed, and the cloud started to thin. They looked intently, but Jesus was nowhere to be seen. ((Acts 1:10))

That he was gone dawned on some sooner than others, but they could not tear their eyes away from the spot where he had been standing. What had just happened? They had already lost Jesus once. Had Jesus finally outgrown his motley band of followers? What now?

Then an unknown voice broke the silence. "Hey, Galileans! Why are you just standing there? Jesus has been taken from this world into heaven."

Two men, dressed in white, were standing on the hill with them. They had not been with the group minutes earlier, and no one had heard their approach. Some of the disciples remembered that men in white had also been outside Jesus's tomb, and had delivered the message that he was no longer there.

The men in white continued: "He is coming back." ((Acts 1:11))

The Social Experiment

2014-10-01T11:14:00-04:00

Most of you have no reason to know this, but I don't like being around people I don't know. Perhaps it's the amount of time I spend with computers. Perhaps it's some natural introversion. Maybe a doctor could diagnose it and prescribe a medicinal remedy, but I'd rather not find out. It's not that I get nervous in front of crowds. Rather, the nuances of person-to-person communication escape me. I know most people don't think that way. They don't pay attention to social interactions, or even seem to care too much about the words that escape their lips. To me, though, holding a conversation with someone I don't know is an unending string of paralyzing decisions.

Partially it's because I have so few shared interests with others in my culture. The things that I spend most of my time thinking about are boring, obtuse, or weird. My wife does not share my social awkwardness. She is blunt and open, and sees no reason to change. She is the reason for my current social experiment.

Several times in the past, when women we know had been going through rough times in their marriages, Kelly offered them a place to stay. No one accepted her offer... until today. A friend of Kelly's is going through a divorce and had to sell her house. Now she is moved into our guest room: the guest room we said would be used to help people in need. I realize now just how dear my privacy was. I have to be on guard all the time. I'll try to post a follow-up to let you know just how badly my sanity has been damaged.

Conquering Rome

2014-09-29T09:52:00-04:00

The disciples gathered at the Mount of Olives ((Acts 1:12)) with growing expectation. They could tell that Jesus was leading up to a big moment. The triumphant Messiah was untouchable. Death itself could not stop him. He could now travel anywhere in the world in an instant, and they had already known he was a miracle worker. Their imaginations ran wild with scenarios: He could appear inside the Holy of Holies and announce himself to the startled high priests as their new king. For that matter, he could show up in Tiberius' bedroom, strike down that false "son of a god", and declare himself the world's rightful Caesar.

The world had no power over him now, and the disciples knew that victory lay ahead. They could be forgiven a moment's thought to their own impending reward, as those who had chosen to follow when he had been a little-known Galilean construction worker turned rabbi. They were ready to see the dreams of their ancestors fulfilled. Today could be the day when Israel returned to its rightful place as a world power. Was it? They had to know, and so they asked him. ((Acts 1:6))

For Jesus, this question posed three problems:

In some sense, the answer was "no", and would always be "no". Their culture's view of what the Messiah was meant to be had muddied the waters so much that having the kingdom restored was unimaginable to them without wars and conquests, but that had never been the real plan.

In another sense, the answer was "yes", and actually "that has already happened". He, as Israel's one righteous representative, had battled and defeated death. The announcement of his rule had already gone out to all of creation. If they could not see it, it was only because of the deep-rooted rebelliousness of mankind.

In the most important sense, it simply wasn't helpful. Jesus knew many people who were so obsessed with foretelling the Messiah, and finding every shred of scripture pertaining to him, that they had missed him when he was standing right in front of them. "That's God's concern, not yours", he told them. ((Acts 1:7)) "I have a different mission for you, but you can't do it without the holy spirit's power. I need you to announce my kingdom to the entire world." ((Acts 1:8))

Redefining Christian

2014-09-26T08:32:00-04:00

In his introduction to "Mere Christianity", C. S. Lewis shared his concern that the word "Christian" was losing its meaning. Instead of describing a person who held a certain set of beliefs, he feared that it would soon be reduced to a general term for a nice person, much like "gentleman" had ceased to describe someone of noble birth and become a generic term for anyone who was well-mannered. He would no doubt be delighted to hear that, in the half century since his death, those within the church have worked tirelessly to ensure that no one these days thinks that "Christian" means "a good person".

The World Had Changed

2014-09-25T07:44:00-04:00

At the beginning of the book of Acts, Jesus's resurrection was already starting to have a dramatic effect. The powers-that-be, while not mentioned by Luke explicitly, were obviously shaken by more and more reports that the man they had publicly executed was alive. Even those who dismissed such reports could feel a growing public sentiment that they were not eager to challenge. In this short vacuum of uncertainty, Jesus chose to spend forty more days teaching his disciple about the kingdom of God. ((Acts 1:3))

That his disciples needed further teaching about something that he had focused on throughout his ministry illustrates just how contrary it was to their culture. Even when Jesus had used the plainest possible language, his followers had failed to understand, mistaking the literal for parables and parables for reality. Now that they had seen his predictions literally fulfilled, he tried once again to explain God's plan.

Exactly what Jesus told his disciples we can only guess from what they later told others. It is likely that much of what he said was still beyond their understanding, but in time they would remember and understand. They could see that Jesus was preparing them for something, but what that might be was still a mystery. Even if they had wanted to act, Jesus forbade it. They were to wait in Jerusalem until they were "baptized with the holy spirit." ((Act 1:4-5))

The number of disciples now stood at around one-hundred and twenty, including Jesus's earthly family. For forty days he lived among them as he had before, but everything was radically different. His human flesh was now glorified, and he traveled freely between the realms of heaven and earth, appearing behind locked doors and moving instantly between distant places. That Jesus was alive at all after his brutal crucifixion was amazing, but it slowly began to dawn on his followers that this resurrection was not like the few others they had seen.

The Jewish teachers had long awaited the resurrection of the dead. Not a single resurrection, but the resurrection of all the righteous Jews at the end of the age, when God would judge wickedness and reconnect heaven with earth. That God had carried out this resurrection for one man in their own time was a puzzle. In some ways it seemed as though the world had ended, but no one had noticed!

The disciples could not miss the symbolism when, forty days after his resurrection, he invited them to meet him on the mountain across the valley from Jerusalem. Just as Moses had spent forty days on Mount Sinai before being given the old covenant, they hoped that, after their forty days of preparation, the last battle was finally about to begin.

Time-Aware Alternative to RDF

2014-09-24T06:57:00-04:00

Human beings, in general, are very sloppy with our understanding of the universe. We can hold contradictory information in our heads with little trouble, and are just fine with ambiguity and missing data. Computers, on the other hand, usually find the human way of storing data completely useless. For example, a resources like Wikipedia is excellent for humans researching a topic, but if you wanted a computer to do anything meaningful with it, you'd need to use its semantic cousin, WikiData. Warehouse filling artificial intelligences are just starting to be able to comprehend documents that the human mind instantly grasps.

One popular system for storing "semantic" information is called RDF, which is essentially a way of telling a computer the relationship between two nouns. The data is stored as a "triple", with two nouns and a relationship. One of the most common ones would be something like ("Bob", "has wife", "Kelly"). It's a very useful and powerful way to express concepts, and has strong backing from the W3C for sharing data across the world wide web.

The problem I see with this format is that it is only meaningful in the present tense. Many relationships change. For example, right now the President of the United States is Barack Obama, but in a couple of years that will be wrong. As far as I can tell, there is no good way to express this information using RDF.

Additionally, RDF has no way of annotating your relationship. For example, if I want to say that Bob is married to Kelly, it might be helpful to include a link to the newspaper article announcing the wedding. If someone wanted to contest any information about that relationship, they could look at the sources, and maybe add some of their own.

I've looked for good alternatives to RDF that take this into account, but so far I haven't found anyone working on the same problem. Here are the essentials of what I think I would want:

There are four main entities in the system: things, events, attributes, and relationships
Things are essentially just a unique ID that has multiple attributes.
Events can create things and/or set, modify, or delete attributes on them.
Attributes have a type and a value. Each type defines which values are valid. Values may be hierarchical. Attributes only store data that cannot be conclusively determined from other attributes.
Relationships are mutual attributes. They have a type and link two or more things, but don't belong to any of them.
Events must happen at a time, though that time does not need to be specific, and can be relative to another event.
Any event can have annotations.
An event can be caused by a thing, but that is not required.
Each database is uniquely namespaced.
All data is normalized. The system will refuse to store contradictory data.

What you should end up with is historical data that a computer can understand and answer questions about. It would probably not be in the least bit performant, but that is a secondary concern.

My one big puzzle with this reality mapping system is deciding what to do about ambiguous history. There needs to be a way to tell the system that an event is unconfirmed (meaning it may or may not have happened) or contested (meaning we are not sure which event happened). This seems like something that would have a fundamental impact on the structure of the system, so I doubt it's safe to assume it can be added later.

Is there anything else you would want in your ultimate semantic storage system?

Evangelizing Darth Vader

2014-09-23T09:51:00-04:00

Perhaps, more than any other person, the responsibility for Darth Vader, the heartless butcher behind the deaths of billions of intelligent beings, lies with the Jedi Order. It was their example and actions that pushed their most promising student into the arms of a monster and plunged the entire galaxy into the darkness of Sith rule.

When Palpatine told Anakin that the Jedi were power-hungry, ineffective, dishonest, narrow-minded hypocrites, he did not do so to convince Anakin of these things. Anakin already understood them. Palpatine merely showed him that he was not alone in this realization. He offered a different way and Anakin followed Palpatine, and the Sith, because he could no longer bear to follow the path of the Jedi.

When Anakin had first come to the Jedi Order, they could not have hoped for a more eager student. Qui-Gon presenting Anakin Skywalker to the Jedi Council was literally a dream come true for the young boy. From the first time he heard some old Spacers talking about the Jedi Knights, Anakin had idolized them. To travel the galaxy righting wrongs and serving good captivated him. To his young mind they were gods, immortal and infallible. When he met the Jedi Qui-Gon Jinn, he believed that the Jedi had come to right the horrible wrongs he and his fellow slaves suffered. When Qui-Gon refused, Anakin could not accept it. His young, idealistic mind could not understand that ending the slavery of everyone he cared about was not on the agenda of the Jedi, who did not want to risk starting a war with the Hutts.

Once the Council reluctantly accepted him as a Jedi, Anakin threw himself wholeheartedly into his new life. His peers may have already been training for a decade, but he was determined to make up the difference. Every demonstration and lesson was taken to heart. He practiced his saber technique endlessly, meditated on the Jedi Code, and dreamed of the day he would leave the Temple to bring hope to those who had suffered as he had.

The tension between what Anakin expected and what the Jedi stood for was minimal at first. He accepted unquestioningly that it was best for his mother to remain a slave on Tatooine. It would help him maintain his focus and avoid the evil of attachment. When warned against becoming emotionally involved, he faithfully trusted that such commands were meant to make him a more impartial guardian of justice rather than a more reliable soldier.

Anakin listened enraptured when the Jedi Masters expounded on the nature of the Force, teaching him to detect its tendrils in everything, to recognize its warnings. He studied the differences between the Living Force and the Unifying Force. It had coursed through his veins from his earliest memories, but now he was gaining a more rigorous understanding. His teachers dissected and probed the Force like a lab animal, cataloging its features and detailing how it could be used to gain an advantage in every situation. Anakin's immature ideal of the Force as his companion and guide was soon replaced with an image of the Force as a powerful tool for carrying out the will of the Jedi.

The first real split between Anakin and the Jedi Order began with a dream. The Force told him that his mother was in grave danger, but the Jedi responded with indifference. None of them had ever known their own mothers and, besides, it was only a dream. Yet Anakin could not sit idly by while his mother suffered. He finally defied his masters and went to rescue her, but it was too late. He had failed his mother because he had ignored what the Force was telling him. His training hadn't made him better able to save her, but instead had actually made it possible for her to die. It was the first time Anakin questioned if he really wanted to be a Jedi.

That was not the only area of his life where Anakin was struggling with his Jedi training. Having lived the ascetic life of a Jedi, Anakin's understanding of love was very limited, but he knew he had a special connection to Padmé Amidala. She had been his friend when he'd left his home world behind. She had borne the weight of being a queen just as he had borne that of being a Jedi. In her he found someone who would indulge his questions about the power structures of the galaxy and listen intently as he told of the adventures he had shared with his master. Having nothing else to compare them to, he called his feelings for her "love".

Their marriage would have been difficult even in the best of circumstances. Anakin had to keep a part of his life hidden from the many Force-sensitive beings around him. If they uncovered his secret, he would be disgraced and expelled. Unfortunately for Anakin, it was not the best of circumstances. The Clone Wars were underway and Anakin was away from Coruscant, and his wife, for months at a time, carrying out the battle plans of the Jedi and the Republic.

Soon appointed a General in the Grand Army of the Republic, Anakin became even more distant from the Jedi Order. No longer under the constant attention of his master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin had time to stew over what had happened to him, and what continued to happen. He watched in frustration as strategy and political manipulation prevented him from doing what was needed. He chafed when told that a certain crisis should be ignored because it was outside the Jedi's jurisdiction while other times he was sent on "strategic" missions that were little more than protecting the wealth of powerful politicians. The war claimed many lives, some right before Anakin's eyes. Every time it was a sickening reminder of how powerless he had been to save his mother. His frustration grew, especially he began having premonitions of Padmé's death and realized that all of his years of training provided no way to prevent it. Early in his training Anakin had listened unquestioningly to teachings about the dangers of emotional attachment, but now he wondered whether it might not be the opposite that was the real danger.

Though Anakin spent the vast majority of his time with the Jedi, his only real confidant was an outsider: Chancellor Palpatine. Palpatine was an attentive and sympathetic listener, quick to praise Anakin for his bravery, to voice indignation when Anakin was passed over for an assignment, and to cringe as Anakin reported the mistakes of his Jedi masters. Anakin, unaware of his mentor's sinister intentions, found himself more and more dependent on Palpatine. When the moment was right, Palpatine revealed his true identity. Anakin was bewildered. His teaching about the Sith had portrayed them as unfeeling monsters, yet here was a Sith Lord offering him help, something the Jedi had never done. However, Anakin's loyalty still lay with the Jedi, and he knew he must warn them that a Sith had gained control of the Republic. He left with Palpatine's parting words ringing in his ears; he could uncover the truth of the Jedi's intentions.

The Jedi were alarmed at Anakin's report and set out immediately to confront Palpatine, ordering Anakin to stay behind in the Temple. In those moments alone, Anakin began to reconsider everything. What if the Sith weren't monsters? What if the Jedi were actually the power-hungry villians? Palpatine could have chosen to remain hidden instead of offering his help, yet he had risked everything to help Anakin with a problem for which the Jedi would only have shamed him. If they took Palpatine away, locked him up or worse, Anakin knew Padmé would die just as he had envisioned. Ignoring his orders, he raced to observe the confrontation between the Jedi and the Sith. He had to know the truth.

When he arrived it was worse than he had feared. Master Windu stood over his mentor, ready to execute the man without a hearing or trial. It was not the last time Anakin would witness this method of Jedi problem solving. Racing to Palpatine's aid, he disabled Master Windu. Palpatine finished the job. The line had been crossed: a Jedi was dead, and Anakin was responsible. The rest of the Jedi would quickly learn what had happened. If Anakin, and Padmé, were to survive, the Jedi could not. Anakin marched on the Jedi Temple and fought like never before. In his own way, he saw his purge of the Jedi as a mercy. He was rescuing them from being pawns as he had been.

The Jedi responded as expected, sending assassins after both Palpatine and Anakin. While Palpatine was able to best his attacker, Anakin's rage clouded his judgment and he was defeated by his former master on the lava fields of Mustafar. When he awoke, Padmé was dead and he was confined to a black exoskeleton, the only method Palpatine had for keeping him alive. He assumed his place at Palpatine's right hand as Darth Vader and buried his former identity.

Serving under Palpatine was not the life Vader had hoped for. While Palpatine gave him total freedom to deal with matters as he saw fit, it seemed as though his best efforts resulted in only more turmoil. He would wipe out one bickering family only to see three more arise. He would impose his rule on a disorderly planet, only to see it rebel even more fiercely. In answer to his frustration, Palpatine placed Vader in charge of overseeing the ultimate answer to rebellion: the Death Star.

When the Death Star was destroyed by an unknown force wielder, Vader was furious. His rage increased when he learned the Jedi was his own son, trained by Obi-Wan Kenobi. He could not abide the thought that the Jedi had now turned his own child into a weapon against him. He remembered his own training by the Jedi and knew his son must believe him a monster. He needed a way to get through their web of lies. In a foolish attempt to reach his son, he lured him to Bespin. Luke, like every other Jedi in Vader's recent memory, tried to kill him, but the boy was unskilled and reckless. Vader quickly gained the upper hand and, after disabling his son, he revealed the truth and offered Luke the opportunity to escape the Jedi. That his son would rather leap into death than join his father was the final insult of the Jedi to their prophesied Chosen One.

I fear we in the church are in the process of creating an army of Darth Vaders. Promising young people are coming to us seeking Jesus and instead they find political discord and bureaucratic gridlock. These are men and women with a strong desire for justice, a belief in right and wrong, and a genuine heart for service. They come to us hoping to find kindred souls, but, too often, find indifferent structures, running on autopilot, that try to make them into drones rather than equip them to be disciples of Jesus.

Put yourself in the shoes of a young person today. She has heard about Jesus. She knows he cared for the sick and the outcasts. She knows he said "Love your enemies", "Treat others as you want them to treat you", and "Judge not". She knows he died on a cross as a rebel. She may even understand that he died for her sins. Yet, if she investigates the church long enough, she will frequently uncover a system that is more like a corporation than the followers of a rebel. She will be encouraged to plug into an existing ministry, to volunteer when we need someone to babysit or read, to give generously to every cause, but never to change the world like Jesus did. Eventually these young people decide that in order to be like Jesus, they'll need to find another path.

Please don't take this as another judgmental potshot from someone sitting on the sidelines. I have been on the Jedi Council, so to speak. I know how hard it is to get out of the mindset of doing a job, and that every system seems messy once you see its inner workings. I've been frustrated at myself for not being a visible example of Jesus's love and feeling tangled up by the obligations of leadership. Yet if we cannot find a way to reach out to our Anakins, someone else will. The image of our church is already tarnished in the minds of those who would be our Chosen Ones. The Palpatines of this world are eager to encourage the idea that we are bigoted, disconnected hypocrites, and I fear that if we don't find a way to make church comprehensible to the current generation, we risk inviting our own Purge.

Of course, the saga of Star Wars is not only about the fall of Anakin, but also his redemption aboard the second Death Star, an irresistible trap set by Palpatine to crush the growing Rebellion. When Vader sensed the presence of his son among the rebels coming to disable the space station's shield, he prepared to hunt down his son for the last time. When his son surrendered willingly, Vader suspected another plot to kill him, and his master, for daring to question the dogma of the Jedi Order. While his son pleaded for Anakin Skywalker, Vader probed the young man's mind with all his skill, trying to uncover its secrets. He could see that his son still held to an idyllic view of the Jedi, much like he had at one time, but his master would soon uncover the boy's corruption.

His suspicions where confirmed when Luke attacked the defenseless Palpatine. Vader defended his master. When Luke chose to hide rather than fight, Vader probed for his thoughts and soon discovered the secret the Jedi had hidden from him: Padmé had a daughter. Perhaps she, uncorrupted by Jedi training, could still be saved. When Luke realized he had failed to protect that knowledge, he attacked with righteous indignation. In an instant Vader lay at his mercy. Palpatine cackled horribly and ordered Luke to destroy Vader and become his new apprentice.

For the second time in his life Anakin realized he had been completely betrayed by the system he trusted. It was all clear now. He had been manipulated, led by promises that Palpatine would never fulfill. He hadn't escaped being a pawn. He had merely changed masters. He had betrayed the Force, and now he would die for his blindness. He prepared himself for death, resolute but defeated.

Then something miraculous happened: His son tossed his lightsaber aside. "I am a Jedi, like my father before me." Vader was stunned to find that his son, the last of the Jedi, was unwilling to bend his ideals, even to avoid death. Luke's refusal held little weight with Palpatine, however. A defenseless opponent was that much easier to defeat. Vader looked on as his master tortured the boy and, in the lightning-illumined Imperial throne room, he finally found a Jedi he could believe in. Though he had little left to offer, he sacrificed the last of his strength to save his son. He died knowing that Luke would be the type of Jedi he had dreamed about as a little boy. Anakin Skywalker had fulfilled his destiny.

The question for us in the church is how much are we willing to risk on the chance that Darth Vader can return from the Dark Side? Are we willing to risk investing everything in an Anakin Skywalker who may not follow our agenda? The risk is great either way, and it will take serious thought and prayer to find our way, but maybe this can be the beginning of a new hope.

Targeted Advertising

2014-09-22T11:20:00-04:00

Our world today runs on advertisements. Physical space is filled with billboards of all shapes and sizes. Newspapers and magazines devote an enormous amount of space to them. Ads support our watching of television and the internet-based equivalents. And, of course, many webpages delight in covering themselves in advertisements, hoping to collect a bounty for enticing visitors to click an ad.

With the rise of readily available computing power, advertisers find themselves more and more anxious to ensure that their ads are reaching the right people at the right time. Profiles of every web visitor are compiled. The content of every page is scanned to determine its topic. Computers behind the scenes are constantly computing which ad is best suited to the current situation. And sometimes they make a perfect match:

What is Strange?

2014-09-20T15:36:00-04:00

If you picked up the New Testament and read it without the benefit of being a part of the institutionalized church, you could get the impression that the ideas it presents are offensive, shocking, and hard to accept. That's only natural, given all the stories it tells about people's strong reactions to the Gospel. Jesus teaches and many disciples leave him. The religious leaders get so distraught about Jesus's message that they plot to murder him. People stirred up riots when the first disciples started spreading the Gospel. Even secular powers, including Ceasar himself, commanded the message to stop. Those Christians who continued to teach in the name of Jesus despite the threats were imprisoned and executed.

If you grew up inside Christianity, however, you know that actually the message is a nice, boring one about how to feel good. It's a message of how great we are when we do good things, and how horrible other people are when they do bad things. It's about finding out that God is mad about the same things, and at the same people, as you are. The Gospel message, in simplest terms, is that if you say the right prayer and are initiated into our group, you too can look down on sinners and feel morally superior.

It would be very strange to find Christians who reject this Gospel. Why wouldn't they want to work their way up the ladder of spirituality? Who wouldn't want to fit into one of these nice slots we've prepared for them? How could they not accept such a perfect system, fine-tuned over two-thousand years? What we have today is obviously a vast improvement over the messy and downright dangerous early days of the church.

Why would anyone want to be so strange?

All Systems Go

2014-09-19T20:21:00-04:00

Without further ado, I announce the launch of this website. Please enjoy it, but if it becomes addictive seek help. Do your best not to break anything, and if that doesn't work, let someone know so we can clean it up before anyone else notices.

Thanks for your attention.