Zombie Miners

“There is a theological debate that this is a carbon starved planet” -- Rep. John Shimkus (R-Il-20th)

This time last year I was in the middle of a volunteering obligation I had…well…volunteered for. I was helping a local charter school set up a collaborative document system for producing the written policies the state required of them. My first inclination, when talking about this, is to make it sound like it required a tremendous amount of technical expertise, but it did not. Basically I spent most of the couple hundred hours setting up one system, listening to why people did not like e-mail and “computer-stuff", and then setting up another system, and then listening to more luddite whining. There was a liberal amount of personally training people on systems and answering “I don’t like the way the font looks on my computer” questions. I also sat in policy meetings where single words had to be discussed at length; often through the process of protracted arguments between a particular individual and himself.

In order to facilitate my own activities I asked to be considered for one of the vacant board seats. I was told that I was “not the sort of person they were looking for” and each of the many board replacements made after that time were done only after closed session consideration. I believe that this was one of the signs that there was a concerted effort to make sure the board of this publically funded school remained entirely and eternaly Mormon. The control was targeted to produce a more specific goal than simply an all-Mormon board. The members of the board had to be a special brand of home-school-leaning-educational-separatist Mormons.

I was involved because the school had hired a director whose ideas about producing a learning environment were inspirational, and he had hired the best group of teachers I had ever seen in any Utah public school. When he was ostensibly fired (so a for-profit philosophically acceptable charter school direction company could come in) I resigned my volunteer position. Before the next school year started around 60% of the great group of teachers had also left.

At this point I believe some of you may be wondering why I started this entry with a quote from a congressman from southern Illinois. Others probably realize that I will get around to the quote, but flinch at the circuitous path I will probably take getting there.

Shortly after the new directors began to change direction the ire of the school’s parents was raised. There were apparently several heatedly orated meetings. After one someone apparently took it upon themselves to amateurishly hack and then vandalize the schools computer system. Part of the vandalism apparently consisted of someone taking one of the gold-painted shovels the board stored in the server room (the shovels were mementoes of the building’s groundbreaking) and smashing the server rack with it. Wires were pulled, a key logger was found, and probably other stuff, but I was never shown any actual report.

 For the record I think it would be much more effective to simply pour a coke on a server if you wanted to take it out. When I have seen this happen by accident it has worked very well. A truly evil person would rig something with string, two-liter bottles of soda, and Mentos mints. When the IT person walked into the server room she/he could witness the awesome destruction in process. But I digress….

After the server destruction several members of the board and the schools paid staff decided that I was a prime suspect. Their evidence consisted solely of:

1. The idea that I “knew about computer stuff”
2. That they were not forthcoming in why they refused to consider me for the board
3. That I had spent a lot of time around the school doing “volunteer” work.

Basically I had helped them by bringing in expertise they needed, and they had treated me poorly for it; all of which was true. What stunted emotional degeneracy goes into making this sort of connection, and how can one prove one’s innocence in the face of it?

Of course the allegations were not made to my face. They were relayed to me by four separate individuals who had heard them on more than one occasion, so I do not doubt them. The purpose, however, was to lay blame; not prosecute. Because of the hidden nature of my guilt it was a couple of weeks before I could point out that I was on a business trip more than a thousand miles away for the entire week during which this happened. Unfortunately this paltry alabi was not enough to prove my innocence. Apparently I did some of it remotely and my evil minions did the rest.

So now I run an evil empire bent on destruction. How did I amass this power? I did it simply by witnessing the collision between their deeply held belief system and reality.

As a side note to any board members who may be reading this blogg: YOU MAY HAVE FIGURED OUT THE SECRET TO SURVIVE THE TERRIBLE ONSLAUGHT OF MY ROBO-NINGA-FERRETS, BUT YOU WILL NEVER FIGURE OUT THAT IN ORDER TO APEASE THE INTRA-DIMENTIONAL EARWIGS THAT HAVE BEEN WISPERING SINFUL TEMPTATION INTO YOUR BRAIN AT NIGHT YOU MUST ANONYMOUSLY SEND ME LARGE SUMS OF CASH IN UNMARKED BILLS.

Here, of course, is where I suddenly shift course to talk about rep Shimkus. Check out this video from which I gleaned the quote I started this entry with. This film was taken during an actual session of an actual congressional committee on climate change.

What we are witnessing on this tape is the collision of a deeply held belief system and reality. Shimkus is a deeply believing member of a church within the Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod. One of the premises of this church (along with creationism and some other ideas I could go into, but which would make this already thousand-word entry too long even for me) is “amillennialism”. Which means that they know (somewhat) how the world will end, and that you must go to their church as a result of these things they know. This of course results in some significant conflict between the LCMS and other churches who know other things that require you to go to other churches because of.

As early as 1932 the LCMS adopted the following prophetic truth (which I quote here from their A Brief Statement of the Doctrinal Position of the Missouri Synod. Statement 43):

“As to the Antichrist we teach that the prophecies of the Holy Scriptures concerning the Antichrist, 2 Thess. 2:3–12; 1 John 2:18, have been fulfilled in the Pope of Rome and his dominion.” 

This is not taken too very kindly by several Roman Catholics I have spoken to. I can paraphrase the average response thusly: “No AOA…the pope is not the antichrist. Why do you care anyway? It is like asking if some person who you think lacks any potential spiritual significance is also not something you do not believe exists.”. I must admit that their observation about me has some degree of validity.

So what I think we are observing (in rep. Shimkis’s scriptural tirade) is a skirmish in an ongoing theological battle. Someone is going to pick up the proverbial golden shovel and smash things that should not be smashed. If there are people with Catholic upbringing on or near anyone working on global climate change that fact could serve as proof that GCC talk was a modern manifestation of some ancient evil. There may even be jews involved in GCC research. I’m not entirely sure what the LCMS would find wrong with jews, but I’m sure there is something wrong with jews…there always seems to be something wrong with jews in situations like this.

What of the evidence? Evidence is only fabrications to hide evil intentions. As long as one can create a story (credibility is optional) then there is acceptable proof. When the actual battle is between systems of divine knowledge then mundane matters take a back seat. The charter school’s board was motivated to place blame by the collision of their narrow divinely-inspired teaching concepts and angry parents who wanted the best learning environment for their kids. I just happened to be in the wrong place on that battlefield. Shimkus is waging his divinely inspired battle against iron-age evils, and GCC scientists are simply in the wrong place on his battlefield.

The really interesting question is: “What evil minions will the GCC scientists use to do their evil papal bidding?”. I think the answer can be found in the single visual aid that rep. Shimkus used. That’s right…Zombie Miners!

Think of those Chilean miners trapped for months underground. Who saved them? NASA that’s who! Did you see that miner who ran the NYC marathon cross the finish line? I’ve seen “night of the living dead”. I know what a zombie gait looks like!

“If I only had some BRAINS” -- Zombie Miners

Fear of Flying

Distractions come in many forms, and sometimes I think that I like most of them. Even contemplating the variety of forms they take, and the particular spectrums they might sparkle the announcement of their presence with, fills many moments with pleasant diversion. As my focus on a particular project narrows the number of distractions grows by displacement. A laser-sharp focus could create an entire universe of distraction.

“There is an art, it [The HGG] says, or rather, a knack to flying. The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss. Pick a nice day, [The HGG] suggests, and try it. The first part is easy. All it requires is simply the ability to throw yourself forward with all your weight, and the willingness not to mind that it's going to hurt. That is, it's going to hurt if you fail to miss the ground. Most people fail to miss the ground, and if they are really trying properly, the likelihood is that they will fail to miss it fairly hard.
Clearly, it is the second part, the missing, which presents the difficulties.” – Douglas Adams from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

The other night I remained awake till the earliest sounds of morning lulled me into a few hours late sleep. If not for the threat of a day spent paying for my night I would have fought harder to maintain my wakeful attention for those last few hours as well.

Some sleepless nights are forced on me by stressful circumstances. Sleep cowers in fear to avoid being contaminated by the mind’s obsessive replaying of the day’s events. Rejection, disappointment, disillusionment, heartbreak, inadequacy, embarrassment, cuts deep and shallow play over and over. I think once is enough for most hurts, but the sleep-deprived subconscious has some need to recapture the excruciating nuances of each hurtful moment. Tossing and turning like a fresh caught fish, and then –just as sleep tiptoes in- I am waken by some ill defined impact-like jolt.

The other night was something different. Sleep waited patiently as I explored the tactile potentials of exciting possibilities. Each imagined situation was assembled with interesting distractions from the day’s wanderings mixed with exciting ideas. When I focused on any element it would unfold in detail until it presented me with another comfortable situation to try out. The feeling of a saturating wellness was only slightly displaced by a free-floating gleeful expectation. It was a psychological equivalent of trying out overstuffed lounging chairs in an infinite showroom; a lovely saleswoman patiently waiting to take me by the hand and lead me to the next chair everytime I settled in.

When I woke I had an impulse to go shopping for a new queen-sized bed, but that sort of endeavor is best avoided on days following too-little sleep.

I often run to clear my mind of things. Troubles drive me out the door, and the fact that they wait for me extends my run. I will sometimes make a mental list of all sorts of troubling and annoying things just before going out for a run. This way I can load up the emotional hopper in preparation for the run. I sometimes imagine one of those trucks that empty porta-potties diving down the highway with a secret valve that allows its contents to leak out on the road open and spewing.

The other day I ran while recreating a series of awkwardly pleasant experiences in my mind. I caught myself laughing at spastically timed intervals. I said hello to strangers I passed with a little too much enthusiasm. I pictured myself as I was –the crazed giggling sweat-drenched middle aged waddling man- and laughed a couple more times. My pace-time sucked, but I would have kept going forever if my legs did not hurt as much as they do after a long run.

When I catch a pretty woman out of the corner of my eye while running I sometimes stumble. When I later recall the incident I usually smile a slight knowing smile. That does not mean I enjoy stumbling while out running.

Then again there is the possibility that if I stumble just right I will find myself flying.

Reason to Par-Tay

It was two hundred and seventeen years ago today, on November 10th 1793 (20 Brumaire, Year II), that the French revolution’s National Convention celebrated their “Festival of Reason”. In a move that makes indescribable sense to me the “Cult of Reason” persuaded Pierre Gaspard Chaumette to call for the instalation of a “Godess of Reason”. Chaumette was an unabashed male chauvenist who’s enduring quotes include many where he admonishes women to “know their place” (which was being domestic, and if they could manage it, pretty). Yet he viewed the personification of that reason he wished to genuflect before as female. In order to be entirely clear that reason was feminine Sophie Momoro (née Fournier) was chosen to personify her.

The party sounds like it was a blast. The medieval cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris was transformed into a modern “Temple of Reason”. An altar to liberty was installed over the old one, and the inscription "To Philosophy" was carved into the church facade. Contemporary accounts reported the Festival of Reason as a "lurid", "licentious" affair of scandalous "depravities".

Eventually Maximilien Robespierre would supplant the atheist-leaning Cult of Reason with a solidly Deist Cult of the Supreme Being. Robespierre’s parties were often much less fun.

Robespierre’s Solides jailed both Sophie and her husband, the later was guillotined. When the sentence of death was announced for her husband Sophie was broken. As she wept she was taunted: “The Goddess of Reason has not been at all reasonable during the day!”

Sophie was imprisoned from March until May of 1794. Even the Solides could not execute her for simply being beautiful. By the time she was released (destitute and alone) from prison she was so described: "This goddess is very terrestrial: she has only passable features, frightful teeth, and a clumsy form”.

Both reason and beauty, it seems, can be erased by the focused effort of man.