CERN!

Here are a couple pictures from AYD's summer trip to CERN.  And...yes according to AYD it was as awesome as it sounds.

ATLAS

AYD smiling in front of the detector called ATLAS.

CMS

AYD smiling in front of the detector called CMS.

summertime and the living is queasy

There are summer days in Washington DC when the sky is a grayish solvent in which clouds become soggy, and then completely disolve. The weight of this added humidity makes the air semi-liquid, and the surface of the Potomac River in summer looses definition as a phase boundary between liquid and gas. Gills might be better suited to breathe this air.

The skin of moist amphibians is permeable to both oxygen and carbon-dioxide. They can breathe through their skin. Mammalian pores that gasp for air in the Washington DC summer heat might be trying to recapture some vestigial respiratory function, but they just vomit forth constant streams of sweat. The sweat is seamlessly miscible with the humid air.

At any moment the air will abandon its vain attempts at standing on the gaseous side of phase-change. Instead of just licking surfaces it will condense into festering oily pools. The world threatens to become the worst Jacuzzi ever.

What better time for AYD and I to fly out to DC for a vacation. Yay!

We will visit the Nation’s Klansman.


National Klansman

 


Looking up at its pointy top I will relate to AYD how President Zachary Taylor (standing right where we happen to be standing) spoke at the groundbreaking ceremony for this great monument on July 4th 1850. Since I have no idea where ZT actually stood I will have no problem finding the exact spot. It was so hot that he eagerly slurped up a cool bowl of cherries and milk which happened to be poisoned. Five days later, at 10 AM on July 9th, ZT said “I’m ready to die”; then did.

“If it is hot enough” I’ll add pointing towards the White House “You can hear the echoing relief in President Taylor’s voice. Or the hint of guilt when he said ‘My only regret is for the friends I leave behind me.’ He knew they had weeks of DC summer heat yet to go”.

DC is so full of history. I should also be able to point to the tidal basin from the Washington Monument.

“There” I’ll say “Is where, at 2 AM on October 9th 1974, Fannie Foxxe jumped into the Tidal basin trying to escape both Wilbur Mills and the DC police. It wasn’t as hot in October as it was that August when, on the 8th of August 1974, Richard Nixon resigned.”

It is so interesting to talk of presidential history during the start of a presidential election cycle.

I think a lot of our trip will be spent flitting from air-conditioned metro-stop to air conditioned museum. I’ll point out the decay of artistic sensibility captured in the National Museum of Art’s historical collections. It is amazing to actually see firsthand through changes in art how abilities and skills simply evaporated when Christianity took over Europe. Maybe we will discuss Michelle Bachman at the same time.

We will also flit into air-conditioned Starbucks. The nearest Starbucks to my house is over 30 miles away. I plan to be amazed by their presence on every street corner; it gets me every time. I may even jack into the WiFi and do a blog entry or two.

Saga Dawa Duchen

I have been told that: “Buddhists are religious atheists” many times, but have yet to divine a good primary source for the saying. Most of the people who have said it to me were evangelical Christians so they meant it as a terrible insult. It is always important to know one's audience when delivering insults or punchlines.

A smiling TV corespondent with perfect hair decides to crack a little joke for the Dali Lama.
“OK, so, A guy walks into a Pizza parlor and says 'Can you make me one with everything'.” he says
“We can help you with that” Says DL.
“You get it...right?” asks the TV person.
“What is 'Pizza'?” asks DL.

Today's full moon marks the anniversary of Buddha Shakyamuni’s enlightenment at the age of 35 in Bodhgaya, India. It is a great day to go out, enjoy the summer's first real full moon, and circumambulate a stupa.

I will not be out circumambulating much of anything as I was savagely attacked by a dog last night, and have four deep puncture wounds in my left calf. The attack occurred over 18 hours ago, and the wounds no longer bleed whenever I stand up.

There are so many things I like about Buddhism that I find it easy to both ignore and focus on the things I dislike about it. I can ignore the unsavory elements because they are outweighed by so much non-theistic (should I say trans-theistic) practice. I can focus on them because they form a small enough definable subset that I can wrap my mind around them.

One of the things I can't swallow is the whole reincarnation thing. Though this concept is quite central to Buddhist philosophy it is rather ancillary to the details of much Buddhist practice. By this I mean that many practices can survive the substitution of more rational motivations for that of reincarnation, and retain significantly purposeful attributes.

I'm sure it can feel comforting to believe that a long-time-pet might “come back” as a human. Some folks even take their pets on long walks around stupas hoping that their clockwise “walkies” will translate to much needed pet-karma. I'm also sure there is some sort of severe karmactic penalty for not cleaning up after your pet on such walks.

When I had our feline-pet of several years put down a couple of springtimes ago I felt guilty. Perhaps if I had banked up a bunch of walking karma for our cat I would have felt better. However, our cat was never one for being taken for a walk, especially on a leash.

He was a particularly large black long-haired cat; we named him “Merlin”. He was a stray. We live at the edge of town, and every couple of days someone deposits a no-longer-cute former kitten near our house; the coyotes love this practice.

A couple of years into Merlin's residency with us he developed a condition called “mega-colon” which is a usually fatal progressively-severe blockage of the large intestine. It is probably due to a paralytic infection caused perhaps by a species of neurotoxic Clostriduium. Though it has been suggested that it could be Mycobacterial.

For several years Merlin suffered through monthly, then weekly, then (for the last few weeks) daily enemas.  I had never before considered the posibility of cat enemas, and would have told you they were imposible to perform on an unanesthetized cat if I had.  Finally he was reduced to being unable to walk more than a few steps before doubling over in pain.  Then he would announce his discomfort with a mournful wail that only a dying cat could muster.

AOD and I took Merlin to the vet. I think it is best to hire someone to put down one's pets. I think it is just a bit more civilized to not kill one's pet with the same hands that nurtured, stroked, and fed it.

I was worried about how the putting down would go down. We only had one other pet die in our household. It was a Chameleon named “Bob” that was little more than a energetic houseplant, and only survived a few weeks before kicking the bucket. Bob's funeral was a splendid affair. AOD said a beautiful eeulogy for Bob.  Everyone's eyes watered up.

We called the vet, and set up an appointment. Though we were not a minute too early they ended up not being ready for us, and so we waited with Merlin in the pickup for 45 minutes. He was more animated than he had been in weeks. He tried climbing from AOD's lap to mine. He pushed his head under our hands insisting into each stroke by arching his neck. When his damaged intestine caught up with his movements he would try to slip to the floor of the truck. He was strangely silent except for the now weakly purring motor that sputtered with pain.

“I think he is getting better” said AOD through hopeful tears.

He was limp from exertion when the vet was finally ready for us. I carried his unprotesting body into the examination room. He was calmly purring under my stoking as the vet explained that he would be injecting him with a lethal dose of tranquilizer.

Tears freely flowed from AOD's eyes. She was silent except when an inhale would catch unexpectedly on something invisible.

I think I remember Merlin responding to the hypodermic needle as it was inserted into his paw. The response was very small. Like his involuntarily flinch after I caught his ear wrong while scratching his head.

AOD said nothing till long after we got home.

Behind our house there are a couple of gamble oaks that have Tibetan prayer flags draped between them. Millennia from now someone will uncover a parcel of bones wrapped in non-biodegradable polyester blankets, and surrounded by a assortment of small seemingly random items.

Farther up the hill behind our house (several hundred feet of elevation gain farther up the hill) is a spot with a beautiful view. From high on the hill I can sometimes catch a glimpse of a fluttering red or blue or yellow flag. In the winter green seems easiest to spot. I bicycle up to it often. It is a strenuous climb. Yesterday AOD bicycled up to it for the first time with me.

Tooele Panorama

The mad rush downhill from the overlook is slowed by only a couple of dips. The trail becomes a paved road for a few blocks and dips through a small development with six custom homes. Then it veers off pavement for another almost mile of gravity fueled thrill before popping out a half-block from my house. My enormous gravitational advantage over AOD gave me a fifty-foot lead when the dog came out onto the road.

It was an old fat dog. I instantly knew I could outrun it, but if I did it would be on track to intercept AOD. The typical bike-dog interaction is one where the dog comes bounding off the porch and barks till you have passed out of it's territory Then it goes back to the porch confident that it has won. This dog was not barking.

I slowed down a little hoping that AOD would pass while the dog was interested in me. AOD slowed down also.

I think the dog was a little surprised to so easily catch me. It may have wondered for a second what to do. In my mind's replay I imagine tazing the dog at this moment,and avoiding what came next.

The dog latched onto my calf, and then began violently shaking its head trying to dislodge a mouthful of AOA meat. I dismounted (perhaps fell is a better description) jamming my hip, arm, and scratching the shiny new look of my not-month-old hardtail 29er mountain bike. I positioned the bike between the dog and myself, brandished it as a weapon, and began yelling in French. People miles away looked around in horror to see who was yelling at them.

The dog was confused by my transformation from lunch wagon to aggressive, armed, and very loud stranger. It was effectively channeling its inner Cujo, but I responded to it's bare-toothed lunges with deftly-wielded aluminum bike-frame.  It cowered, and I pressed my advantage.

I was not going to allow the dog to focus it's attention on the now horrified AOD.  A bike-frame is an awkward weapon.  I tried to identify cobble-sized rocks which could be used to severely wound the animal.

The irony of planning the violent putting down of someones aged pet in front of the same young woman who witnessed me facilitating the caring and protracted putting down of Merlin was lost on me till some hours later.

I was still yelling at the top of my voice when we saw a woman in a red shirt come out of one of the larger (probably 8,000 sq ft) houses and call to the dog. The dog wisely thought going to it's master was the best choice, and took off running.

I tried to sit down, but ended up on my side. Blood was pouring out of my leg at a rate that would have given me at least a half hour before passing out. I yelled to the woman's back for help. She disapeard. I continued yelling as I removed my jersey and applied pressure to the wound. For some reason I distinctly remember the sensation of my sock being wet; the wounds did not hurt.

AOD was shocked, but scared. I asked her to go to our house so that I could be taken to the hospital in the truck. I was drenched in sweat from overheating my way up the mountain, but I was cold now, and shivering. AOD began biking back up the mountain to a cutoff trail that was a shortcut for home. It was a technically steep trail, and I began picturing her also going to th hospital for injuries incurred during her mad dash home. I called her back. She bicycled back to me, dropped her bike and began running for home. She was running in the wrong direction. I called her back again. She was shaking too.

It looked like the pressure was stopping the free-flow bleeding. I continued to yell for help, but none came. I did not trust the idea of sending AOD up to these unconscionably uncivil people's doors to knock for help. I tied the jersey around my calf, and l limped home using my bike as a crutch.

By the time we got to the urgent care facility the swelling was pronounced. The wounds were also making up for their tardy messaging of my pain receptors.  Like all good point swelling we compared its extent to sports equipment.

“Ping-pong balls”

“No, they are all fused together into half a baseball.”

All dog-bites that require hospital intervention result in a mandatory police report. After we had picked up my antibiotics, and a question of jurisdiction had been resolved (The location of the attack was just outside the city limits) I was visited by the sheriff.

Ever noticed how an injury and hospital visit makes you smell weird? Since that was coupled with the sweat of the pre-attack hill-climb I was ripe. The doctor told me to avoid getting the wound wet for a while so I smell worse right now.

Still the young tattoo-ed sheriff took my statement, and went up to deliver a citation to the dog owners. It was around midnight.

Shortly after he left I got a call.

“You sure this is the right house. They say they don't have a dog.”

I said I would show him, then hopped in the truck, drove up, and pointed out the house. He went and knocked on the door again. After quite a while it opened. They spoke for a bit, and then he came back and asked if I was sure about the description of the dog.

“Was it a poodle?” he asked. 

“No, a old fat cream colored lab. Definitely not a poodle.”

He went back up to the dog owners, and after another 15 minutes of conversation the attacking dog appeared on a leash. I identified it, spoke to the sheriff a little more. Then went home.

The owners apparently “never heard nothin”. The dog was “Never out of the the kennel all day”. And of course “would never attack nobody”.

The moon that to some signifies the start of Saga Dawa Duchen was full by the time I went to bed. Supposedly this holiday is a dharma multiplier day. The karmactic effect of whatever one does is multiplied by ten million.

How auspicious!

106 Trombones

A couple of weeks ago, on July 24th, I attended an early morning parade through the streets of downtown Salt Lake City. Despite the fact that the parade celebrated an event (the “discovery” of the Salt Lake Valley in 1847 by Brigham Young) inexorably linked to the Mormon Church there were a few floats and groups that were not overtly LDS-themed. Among these were synchronized motorcycle police from each of the several police forces that utilize motorcycle policemen. One of the policemen was obviously a woman, but she wore a cute little fake mustache to fit in.

There were several borderline-LDS themed groups; the most irksome of these were our major elected officials riding by in convertibles. There was Senator Hatch showing that, despite his advanced age, he can still wave without visible life support machinery. Senator Bennet was smiling despite the fact that his re-election never made it out of the republican state caucus, and so he is gone. Then the honorable Governor Gary Herbert rode by.

Everyone was languidly clapping for everyone. The heat was threatening 100F, and the sky was cloudless. Herbert smiled a smile only possible after years of practice, and a little coating of Vaseline on one’s front teeth. I just couldn’t help myself; I started yelling.

I could have yelled many things. If I had known ahead of time that I would be yelling I would have thought up something profound, or at least sensible. I did the best I could.

“Global warming is real!”

The Gov looked over at me and his smile flickered almost imperceptibly. The men in cheap suits and little white spiral-wired earphones looked unamusedly in my direction; one may have almost grabbed towards something near his armpit.

“Get your head out of the sand (yes I DID say "sand") and do what is best for humanity!”

The governor turned away, but several people in the crowd stared at me as if they wished to catch flying insects.

“Don’t ignore global climate change!” I yelled in finality at his car as he continued on down the road.

Then I noticed AYD and AOD. They were not amused. AYD slunk off to pretend she did not know me.

“What are you doing Dad?” asked AOD. “You are totally embarrassing me!”

She then stamped off to join her sister.

Later, after they realized they would have to ride home with me or walk, I had them alone in the car. I looked at them and attempted to arrange my eyebrows into a look of understanding and fatherly concern.

“I hope you’ve learned a valuable lesson” I said.

“What that our Dad is a complete embarrassment and that we shouldn’t go into public with him?” retorted AYD. “We’ve known –that- for years”

“No” I said. “That you can voice your opinion in public without shriveling up and dying”

"Embarrassment will not kill you” I continued “But sometimes silence can. You have a right to be heard by people elected to public offices that represent your interests. Sometimes you are given an unexpected opportunity to exercise that right. It is often worthwhile to try and take advantage of unexpected opportunity.”

Atheists suck

My Awesome Oldest Daughter (AOD) came home from her middle school yesterday so distraught she assured me repeatedly that “NOTHING IS WRONG” and that she was “OK”. Apparently one of her BFF had been told by A BOY in her carpool that AOD was “not a member of the LDS church and therefore a satan worshiper” and added that BFF should have nothing more to do with AOD. I should mention that this BFF has been on AOD to “just come and try out” a mormon Sunday service. What sane middle school student wants to sit in a mormon church for three hours on a weekend afternoon. I half believe this is a manipulative conversion plot by the BFF since a Satan worshiper turns to dust on entering a church or something.

Which leads me to say that atheists SUCK. There is not one other atheist at her middle school that she can conspire with. In fact over 95% of the student body of her school is mormon. In 1996 the mormon prophet of god who speaks directly for god to the member of the church declared that "The new battle is one against atheism.". I guess that middle school children are the foot soldiers. Who is there to protect AOD? Should she convert to avoid continued harassment and to gain a measure of social acceptance. Those of you who do not remember middle school might think these things trivial. Those of you who remember realize that middle school children would sell their soul just to eliminate a few pimples.

With all the events and outreach programs and youth ministries and etc…. The world of fantasy and religion opens their arms to the emotional and, more importantly, social needs of middle school aged kids. What do atheists offer? As far as AOD is concerned just loving parents and other useless stuff.

There is a list that I have found great pleasure in. It is called “Hundreds of proofs of gods existence”. Yet it lacks so many that would only make sence to a middle school student:

“Argument from social calendar
1) Evolution supposedly took hundreds of millions of years and god made the earth in seven days.
2)It is seven days to the dance.
3) Therefore god exists.”

Or

“Argument by crush
1) God started with just one man and one woman.
2) [Insert name here] is the only [boy/girl] that exists for me.
3) Therefore god exists”

Or (most depressing)

“Argument from teen angst
1) Mom/Dad do not really really understand me.
2) Someone who says they believe in god says they really really really understand me.
3)Therefore god exists.”

Wheeler peak pictures

I recently found some pictures I took from wheeler peak in Nevada's Great Basin National park.  I started this particular blog to blend philosophical with mundane and I have since found little motivation to write philosophically.  Since I have not even finished accepting the ongoing first defining purpose post it makes this blog a bore to read.

There is an irony in a blog called "adult onset atheist" that is entirely blank.  

So I thought I would put up some of the more mundane.  So I would at least have something to look at.

























I made a panorama using Hugin with some of my pictures from the peak proper. I'm trying to use the IFRAME html tag to produce a low-tech panning window in this page.

It looks like it is working now.  In some browsers there is an auto-zoom feature that will make the picture "fit" in the frame and look very small.  You have to click on the picture for it to fill the frame and produce the desired effect.

Of course it probably does not even work in some browsers.

Most of my problems appeared to be in choosing the source for the picture.  I think I had chosen a virtual page for the picture that was simply a re-direct to the actual picture information.  When the browser tried to load it as a source it simply redirected the entire page to another location.

One of the great features of Great Basin National Park Is the paved road to the highest elevation campground in the NPS system.  I had to ride my roadbike up it.  a dozen or so miles of 8-10% grades puts it slightly out of my comfort zone, it was terrific.

There are ice-cold streams at the top.  Here I am after jumping in to one and while still deciding if I will have a heart attack or not.