I tried to post this yesterday and it completely mucked up my site.  I ended up having to delete the post,  go to a different design for the page to get it to work again.

Anyway . . .

I actually had a Saturday off during the summer.  This is unusual for me.  (((Wife))), (((Boy))) and I decided to spend the morning watching some sports cars careen up a mountain road in a 102-year-old event called the Giant’s Despair Hillclimb.  It’s a one mile climb up a 20% grade with multiple off-camber very tight turns.  Anyway, here are some of the photos I took:

 

 

 

 

This heavily modified MG (I think it’s an MGB) looked absolutely tiny compared to some of the other road cars.

 

 

 

 

My vote for the prettiest car of the day — a Jaguar Saloon car.  I really admire the Brits — they have a special car just to go to the bar.  We stationed outselves at a corner right where the heavy grade started.  Great view, and not nearly as many well-lubricated racing fans (keep in mind, the event started before 9:00am (and some of those guys were already drunk)).

Of course, not all of the cars were really hot.  This ancient FIAT (stands for, I believe, Fix It Again Tony) made multipe runs.  It was loud, slow, and not quite cute.  The most pathetic car (though it had class) was an ancient SAAB with a two-stroke three cylinder engine.  It never made it to our corner because of a bad clutch.

 

 

 

 

We saw this Mini Cooper prior to the race at the Sheetz at which my son works.  Regular liscence plates and (if I could get into it) a car I would love to have.

 

 

 

 

This little Triumph TR4 (?) was another cute (and fast) car.

 

Another Triumph (this one a Spitfire) rolling through the corner.

 

 

This used to be a Karmann (or Dual (not sure which)) Ghia.  The front looks pretty good, but the back end has a squared-off box over the engine.  Spoiled a smooth looking car.  I came close to buying one of these in high school (without the wing or the box) but got a VW Microbus instead.

We stayed until about 1:00, hiked down, and drove home.  (((Boy))) went to work, and (((Wife))) and I stayed up watching the NASCAR race (and I find the passing just as exciting as the wrecks — even without the wrecks, NASCAR is fun (which most likely puts me in a minority)).

The hillclimbs make for an inexpensive way to enjoy racing — especially with the older sports cars.

The winning time was a car driven by a member of the Danko family (they run a local LP Gas company) — an ex-Indycar racer which haled from the Rahal stable.  He made it up the run in about 50 seconds (last year in 38 seconds).  I think (((Wife)))’s minivan will do the same route in four or five minutes.

This really shouldn’t surprise me, but it still does.  We are, after all, a capitalist country.  If something will sell, someone will sell it.

I turned on Spike TV to watch some CSI reruns with (((Wife))).  The show is fun, and not too offensive.  The problem with a minor cable network is advertisements.  In this case, one that I found offensive.

Liberia is releasing a $20 dollar Liberan coin certificate in silver to celebrate (sorry, commemorate) the 7th anniversary of the terrorist attacks.  On one side, it shows the New York City skyline with the twin towers standing.  On the other, the New York City skyline with the new ‘Liberty Tower’ in place.  It’s even already discounted. Apparently it has now been long enough since the attacks that cheesy commemoration has become acceptable.

My gut reaction was one of surprise.  Specifically, offended surprise.  Then I had to start wondering:  why does this offend me?  I think of myself as a rather open-minded person.  I have nothing, generally, against capitalism.  I understand the necessity of commercials.  So why do I feel offended?

It was a gut reaction.  Oddly, though, the same gut reaction comes about every single time anyone attempts to make a profit from this crime.  Or any crime.  Doesn’t matter if it’s an alarm company making hay out of a local crime.  Doesn’t matter if it’s a politician using the memory to argue against civil rights.  Doesn’t matter if it’s a right winger using the memory of that day to argue that all Muslims should die (yes, I have (sad to say) had that conversation).  Part of my upbringing (of course, this was a liberal atheistic upbringing) included this bizaare idea that no one should make a profit from a crime.

The other part of it is, how many of these profiteers were there?  I got called on the 13th and was sent down to New York City for three weeks to provide security for the Incident Management Team which supported the search and rescue teams.  I spent three weeks checking IDs, searching trucks for bombs, and wondering.

I’m not trying to say that my service down in NYC (and on multiple occasions to ground zero) gives me any special rights.  It doesn’t make me special.  But (whether justified or not, whether I have the right or not) it offends me at a gut level (not an intellectual one) when people do this. 

I am a rationalist and a naturalist.  I seek rational and non-supernatural explanations for  events.  It bugs me that I have this irrational and unreasonable reaction.  It bugs me, but I can live with it.

How many more times will people use the events of 9/11 to make a profit (material or political)?  I cringe at the upcoming campaign.  I have a sinking suspicion that the McCain campaign will use the terrorist attacks to scare us.  My question for the McCain campaign is:  “What did you do after 9/11 to help?”  And advancing Bush’s attack on personal rights is not helping.  Blocking health screening for rescue workers is not helping.  Implying that Bush’s political opponents are unpatriotic or even traitors is not helping. 

To me, the right-wing’s use of 9/11 and it’s memories for political gain is actually more offensive than the Liberian mint’s 9+11=20 joke currency.  The only thing that Liberia is trying to do is get some US dollars (they should insist on being paid in Euros, though).  The right wing, though, will try to scare Americans into voting for an authoritarian candidate so thoroughly sold out to big business that the middle class doesn’t stand a chance.

I know I have a tendency to harp on bumper stickers.  Usually in an extremely negative context.  However, while at the Giants Despair Hill Climb (photos tomorrow) watching sports cars and full-blown race cars roar up a 20% incline, I spotted the back end of an old car with wonderful bumper stickers.    Click on the thumbnail to get the full effect.  I especially like the “Cheney & Satan ‘08″ one.  This is also proof that theism and progressivism are not (despite the attitudes of Dobson, Falwell et al.) mutually exclusive.

Progressive Bumper Stickers with Attitude.

A few weeks ago (back before I went to the fire), a tornado slammed through a Boy Scout camp in Iowa, killing four.  The next day, one of the news networks (CNN, I think) carried an interview with a surviving scout in which he said that God must have wanted to call home these four because they were such good people. 

While down in Virginia, I overheard a conversation at the next table (I was not eavesdropping, I was reading All My Sins Remembered by Joe Haldeman and they were talking LOUD!).  They were discussing a mutual acquaintance who had apparently died only a few days before.  They were discussing his ’sinful’ life:  co-habitating and having two children with his mate, not attending church, and voting for Democrats.  One of the women said, “Yes, he’s dead.  God punished him for his sins.”

I remember when AIDS first reached the public consciousness (and the press) many conservative pastors insisted that this was God’s punishment of homosexuals.  I have heard soldier’s families state that God has brought their son/daughter home.  Christian groups have been urged by their leaders to pray for the death of ‘enemies’ - imprecatory prayers.  A high school graduate dies while swimming during a thunderstorm and the parents and friends console each other by suggesting that God loved him so much He couldn’t wait any longer before taking the boy to heaven.

Sheesh!  Make up your minds, Christians!  Does God reward good people by killing them and taking them to heaven while at the same time punishing sinners by smiting them?  So what does that mean for the rest of us?  Are we neither evil enough to be smote nor good enough to be brought to heaven early?  Sound hinky to me.

Human beings tend to seek patterns and meanings.  We look at random landforms on Mars and see ‘Jesus’ face’ in the shadows.  We play our birthday in the daily numbers.  We see faces in tree stumps, toast, oil stains and spackle.  We try to find something that makes our life and death meaningful.  I’m guilty of it myself.

In 1988, my sister Amy was killed while visiting friends in Arizona.  She, along with everyone else in the Jeep, was drunk.  The driver was drunk.  No one was wearing a seat belt.  When the Jeep rolled, she landed on a rock, smashing the back of her head.  She was dead instantly, but her body took a long time to realize it.  Her corneas, tendons, lungs, heart, liver, kidney, blood vessels, damn near every salvageable organ or tissue found its way into the transplant flow.

I know that she died due to her bad decisions.  But I can console myself that parts of her live on in others.  Some good came from her death.  How’s that for a major rationalization?  I can’t picture her living forever in heaven, but I know bits and pieces of her live on in strangers.  God didn’t call her home;  stupidity contributed heavily to a fatal accident.  It took me around ten years to fully recover from her death.  Prozac helped, as did counseling, as did my wife.  A theist friend suggested that acceptance of God’s plan would heal me faster.

So if I accept that either Amy was a sinner who was smote by an angry and vengeful God or that she was so good an pure that God couldn’t wait another fifty or seventy years to have her by His side, I will feel better.  Bull Shit!  This incredibly divisive coping mechanism allows believers to ignore needless suffering and death — suffering is either deserved punishment or a test, and death is either a reward or a punishment. 

So why, theists, why does God (the Abrahamic God of the Old and New Testaments, the Q’uran, and the Book of Mormon) use the exact same method to reward and to punish?  Too good?  Kill ‘em.  Too evil?  Kill ‘em.  Or maybe, just maybe, there is no God and death is a matter of chance, modified by personal decisions.  Maybe it really is random.  If God is removed from the equation, the result remains the same — chance.  There is no overarching plan, no pattern (except that bad decisions increase the chances of death), and no supernatural meaning to our lives.  Good or bad, our lives are governed by chance.

On Tuesday, 17 June, I went down to the local library for their annual used book sale.  I got some classic science fiction (Dickson, Herbert, Clarke, Dick) and one history book (Flyboys (which turned out to be a well written treatise on the selectivity of war-crime trials)).  When we got home, I walked up the street to move my car back in front of our house (Tuesday is street sweeping day) while (((Wife))) went in to see if (((Boy))) was up yet.  As I came around the block, (((Wife))) was waiting on the sidewalk telling me to call work.

I called work, called the agency travel agent and rented a vehicle (the orders specified four-wheel-drive vehicle), had a quick lunch, grabbed my red bag (and my ‘new’ books), went to the airport to pick up my vehicle (Ford Explorer (quite comfortable and I averaged just over 22 mpg for the two weeks)), went to work and got a copy of my resource order (SECM to South One Fire, GDR, VA), stopped at home and picked up a few things I forgot, and was on the road to Virginia by 4:00pm. 

As I passed Gettysburg, I was sliding through radio stations and caught something which sounded interesting.  I like most kinds of music and the snippet I heard sounded like a Broadway Musical number.  As I kicked back to it, I heard children singing (and this is approximate):  Jesus loves me; Jesus watches me; He follows me to school; He follows me home; Jesus loves me, Jesus watches me; He watches me day and night; He loves me and watches over me.  Again, these words are approximate, but capture the gist of the song.  So Jesus is a pedophilic stalker?  Yikes.

I spent the night in a hotel in Virginia and watched the Celtics play a team that didn’t show up (Yeay, Celtics).  The next morning I drove down to Suffolk and the Great Dismal Swamp.  The area was flat (really flat) with a checkerboard of farm and woods.  I checked in and then went for a drive with one fo the local refuge officers (which is when I saw the bears (see photo in previous post)).  I checked into my hotel (home for the next two weeks), took a nap, and showed up for night shift - 1800 to 0930 - and settled into the routine of a fire.

For a southern rural/small town area, I saw very few bumper stickers, and I saw no strange or offensive messages or quotes.  I did see some positive things.  While waiting for an NS train to finish some switching (about 15 minutes), I was idling next to a cheeleader school in an old storefront in a run-down part of town.  Some six to eight year old girls were being dropped off by their parents.  The girls were white, African-, Asian- and Hispanic-American.  As each girl was dropped off, there were giggles and hugs (all the things little kids do before they learn to be embarrassed).  I smiled, thinking that, even twenty years ago, the racial and ethnic mixing at such a personal, friendly, level, would have been extremely unusual in the South (or in many other parts of America).  Looked like progress to me.  Of course, the fact that the girls were attending a cheeleader school rather than playing baseball may be a step back, but . . .

The days (sorry) nights dragged by.  It was hot (days in the 90s, nights in the 60s or 70s (though two nights it never dropped below 80) and wet (a dew point of 60 is considered dry down there).  The food was plentiful, if unimaginative (plus, I had to keep asking if anything had wheat in it (the au gratin potatoes did)) and heavy on the carbs.  The insects were impressive.  A female wolf spider hung out in one of the buildings (she was a uniform dark gray/brown and was a good two inches across).  Luna moths, as well as tiger moths, were plentiful;  one moth was bright white with patterned black spots across the wings and body.  Yellow flies, mosquitos, biting gnats, and chiggers were also plentiful.  I have a great deal of sympathy for the slaves forced to dig canals through the Great Dismal Swamp in the years before the Civil War.

The drive home was 11 hours of heavy traffic (especially past DC and through Harrisburg) in 90 degree plus weather.  Yuck.

I had plenty of time to think, and will be posting some of these over the next few days.  But mostly the assignment was quiet (and when you’re in security, quiet is good) and I got to see some new parts of the country.  Tomorrow, (((Wife))), (((Boy))) and I are heading over to the township for the 102nd Giants Despair Hillclimb.

I have returned from my assignment at the South One fire on the Great Dismal Swamp National Wildlife Refuge.  I worked night shift, so I saw very little of what was actually happening on the fire (the photos enclosed were taken while I was getting the lay of the land (flat (and wet))).  The burned area reminds me of photos I have seen of the area around Ypres, circa 1914 to 1918.

I am now getting acquainted with a shot of scotch (Chivas) and will now get reacquainted with (((wife))).

I have been called for a forest fire and will be gone for about two weeks.  I leave you with this quote:

We must respect the other fellow’s religion, but only in the sense and to the extent that we respect his theory that his wife is beautiful and his children are smart.  –  H. L. Mencken

See you (metaphorically) in two weeks (or so).

I have been spending a fair amount of time over at Thoughts From Kansas, Pharyngula and other paleaontology, biology and evolution blogs.  I have been struck by the frequency of posts either lamenting the shitty job we are doing teaching evolution, or highlighting attempts by Christians to force creationism into the schools (the current crop are ‘freedom of education’ bills (and include Florida, Louisiana and others)).  This has gotten me thinking (dangerous, I know — I should just receive the wisdom of the ages, not think for myself) about my exposure, in the classroom, to evolution.

I grew up in a scientifically literate family.  My father studied geology at Tufts, and every family trip became a geology lesson.  The mudstones of northeastern Arizona came alive as the Triassic swamps and riparian habitats inhabited by early crocodylians and dinosaurs.  The Coconino Sandstone came alive with small Triassic reptiles scampering over sand dunes and, in the right circumstances, left footprints still visible today.  The fossils of the Kaibab Limestone, recognizable to a young child as sea shells, showed visible differences when compared to modern shells.  I was, from a young age, immersed the geologic and evolutionary history of the Southwest.

When we moved to Maryland (I was 12), we dropped into the Cumberland Valley.  This piece of western Maryland is a northern extension of the Bible belt.  I had experienced conservative and/or literalist Christianity while living in Arizona, but it was a small part of the community.  In Washington County, it WAS the community. It was a surprise to me, to say the least.

In seventh grade, one semester of science was devoted to biology (each quarter, for three years, focused on a different discipline in order to expose us to as much as possible).  One of the experiments was (or, more accurately, could have been) a very effective lesson in adaptive evolution.

We divided into groups of four.  Each group got 40 toothpicks — 10 red, 10 yellow, 10 blue and 10 green.  We predicted which colour would be more visible in the grass outside the classroom, and which colours would be hidden (we each made our own prediction:  I predicted that yellow (soil was tan) and green (grass) would be the most likely to survive).  We marked off a one-square-yard area and were told to sprinkle the toothpicks over the whole area.  The girl who placed the toothpicks said, “God will see them all,” and placed them in one pile in the middle.

I tried to explain that that was not the point of the experiment, that we were trying to find out whether an animals colour could help it survive.  I got shouted down.  We got an ‘A’ on the experiment because, as the teacher wrote on our group’s report, we ’showed that so-called adaptive camouflage was a myth.’  I was stunned.  How could these people not see that a bright white animal in a dark area was more likely to be eaten?  That a safety-orange ground hog would be walking hawk-bait?  I kept my mouth shut and accepted the ‘A.’  Hell, I was 13, wasn’t related to anyone in the valley, wasn’t going to an acceptable church, and was not born local enough.  I, during that time, just tried to keep my head down.

In high school, we took biology our freshman year.  Our teacher was an older gentleman who would retire after the school year.  He was locally bred, locally edumacated, and locally brainwashed.

The first chapter in our biology textbook was a very coherent and well done discussion of evolution.  The examples used (British moths, ceratopsians, and African cichlids) were informative and illustrative.  On the first (or maybe the second) day of class, he held up the book and said (this is from memory, so I can’t be sure it is exactly what he said (nor can I be sure it agrees word-for-word with what I have written in comments on other sites)), “The state says that I have to teach evolution.  It is in the textbook.  I strongly recommend that you not read it.  It will put your soul in danger.  I am a biologist.  I have a masters in education.  I know what I am talking about when I say that evolution is an impossible lie.  You can read the chapter if you want, but it won’t be on a test.  The state is now happy, I’ve taught evolution.  The word will not be mentioned in class again.”  I (and a couple others) immediately read the chapter.

In advanced biology, we studied the different organs and organelles of the cells as they developed, but never mentioned the ‘e’ word.  We dissected pigs, ground hogs, a hawk (our teacher liked using road-kills for dissection), trout, bass, and even a couple of lizards and a snake.  The teacher pointed out the similarities and differences, the adaptations for a specific way of life, but refused to be drawn into any conversation that smacked even tangentially of evolution. 

Thus ended my public school experience with the teaching of evolution.  One well-designed experiment botched by the students and graded by a creationist.  One biology teacher who argued from authority that evolution was a lie.  That’s it.  Fourteen years of public school paid for by the taxes all Americans pay (yes, fourteen years, I liked my sophomore year of high school so much, I did it twice) and evolution gets botched twice.

No wonder the Intelligent Design IDiots are able to sell their shit to local school boards.  No wonder a majority of Americans do not understand evolution, or see it as the best explanation available for the modern and prehistoric diversity of life.  No wonder we, as Americans, are falling behind virtually every developed nation on earth in science.  If (and I suspect it is) my educational experience was average, we have a long way to go.

Really.

It’s true.

I drove up to Sheetz to pick up (((Boy))) from work (it’s really not that far, but it’s raining, so . . .) and noticed what I thought was a bunch of Shriner’s stickers on the back of a ratty old Oldsmobile.  While stopped behind them at the light, I was surprised to read:

Shriners:  Saving Children For The Anti-Christ

and

Shriners Are The Anti-Christ.

Shriners.  The guys in the funny hats with the kazoo bands and little cars in parades.  The guys who, in conjunction with the Masonic Lodge, help kids.  The ones who help about (by their count) 800,000 children in burn and orthopaedic clinics. 

Now I knew already that the Masons are a bugaboo for many of the Christian sects.  The secrecy, coupled with the unusual history of the group, brings conspiracy theorists out of the woodwork (unrelated thought:  how do the ones who insist that the United States of America is a Christian nation reconcile that theory with the fact that some of our founding fathers were Masons (including good old George Washington)).  There are lots of them.  According to one web site, there are 3 million Masons in North America, and a total of 2 million worldwide (I guess that a million of them disappear into another dimension when they are counted globally).  Many conservative Christian groups regard the Masons as a tool of the Anti-Christ. But the Shriners?

Well, according to my extensive research (of about 15 minutes on Google), the Shriners are part of the anti-Christ.  They use Islamic symbols.  They (apparently) help crippled children and engage in child prostitution.  Both Allah and Lucifer are the gods of the Shriners.  You think I’m kidding?  I found it at a reputable site called Vatican Assassins (I did not read the entire document (this is called full disclosure).  I had better things to do (sleep, read, cook, breath, file my toenails, twiddle my thumbs (both directions)).

Some of it is even corroborated at another scholarly site called EndrTimes.  But he also includes a secret FBI investigation which was settled secretly out of court.

After finding these two wonderful sites, I realized that I had learned something new.  Helping crippled children is evil (not sure, though, if that is the Platonic free-standing ideal of Evil, or just a descriptive form).

The Catholic Church preaches that good works are important.  Helping the poor, helping children, caring for the weak and infirm help gain credits (which, I assume, are redeemable in heaven).  One of Luther’s innovations was advancement to heaven through faith alone.  But even the most hard-core evangelical fundamentalist christianist asshat can agree that helping children is good.  But not if you are a Shriner.

Damn.  Here I thought that the Shriners (an independent non-profit group associated with the Masons) were doing a good job helping to alleviate suffering.  Apparently, I was wrong. 

Well, my (((Dad))) always said, “If you’re not careful, you learn something new every day.  (((Billy))), you weren’t careful.”

Last night, I was watching the Celtics-Lakers game.  I’m not big on pro basketball, but I’ve been a Celtics fan all my life.  My dad is from the DC area so I cheer for the Bullets (Wizards), the Capitals, the Senators (Nationals (and I wish, if they weren’t going to go with the Senators, that they had gone with the Greys)), and the Redskins.  My mom is from Boston, so I cheer for the Patriots, the Bruins, the Red Sox and the Celtics.

I turned the game off midway through the third quarter.  The Celtics had been trailing by up to 24 points, and were hanging around at about 15 to 18 points behind.  So I turned off the TV. 

This morning, (((Wife))) asked if I had watched the whole game.  I explained.  She said, “Wouldn’t it be ironic if they came back an won?”

Then I looked in the paper.  The Celtics were trailing by one with four something to go in the fourth quarter.  Damn.  They made it a close game.  Then I checked on ESPN Radio and discoverred the won.  They won.  Damnit!

The biggest comeback in NBA finals history and I, lacking faith (well, I AM an atheist), turned it off and went to bed.  Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!!!!!!!!!