The Perfect Girl (if there is any such thing)

I thought I would try to straighten out in my own head what it is that I'm looking for in my next romantic companion.  Insofar as I have a tendency to dream of a girl that is so virtually perfect that she could only be found in a distant land far beyond the river we call reality... I thought I would make an effort to prioritize as well as I can what is essential to me and what is merely preferrable...

Essential

Niceness/Kindness ~ Not just toward me.  I will be proud to claim her partly because she impresses everyone with the beauty in her heart.

Intellectually Provocative ~ One couple I know brags about the way they will cook dinner together and get so engrossed in a conversation that they forget to eat the dinner they're preparing.  I want that too.

Adoration ~ She loves pretty much every thing about me... my face, my kisses, the way I talk... the way my nose moves while I'm talking... my sense of humor... my imagination... the way I sing... she likes for me to read to her... she hungrily awaits the next product of my creativity.

Creativity ~ I want to love her and encourage her for what she creates... Whether it's photography or poetry or painting or prose or even something that doesn't begin with "P" so long as it hasn't been done before and she loves doing it.

Reading ~ I'm not looking for someone who wishes she had time to read.  She finds the time.

Movies ~ She gets lost in the movie she's watching... and it's easy to persuade her to watch one almost every day (and she still has time to read)(this is my fantasy... don't opress me).

Tolerance ~ She is not a racist or bigot... and even though she's very likely a Liberal... she tries to understand opposing points of view without judging anyone to the point that she begins foaming at the mouth.

Affection ~ She loves to hug me... to feel my face against hers... and she doesn't necessarily care if we happen to be in public at such times.

Active ~ I'm not into skiing or fog~boarding or sky~cycling personally... I'm not talking about that... I just mean it's relatively easy to convince her to go for a walk or a hike.  Maybe she likes tennis and ping~pong and bowling and darts and jogging and dancing and karaoke and racquetball and volleyball... or at least a few of these.

Self Confident ~ She's not worried that I might cheat on her because she knows I'd be a fool to take her for granted.  And she knows I'm not a fool.  And she can say thank you when someone compliments her instead of manufacturing tedious explanations for why and how the compliment is not valid.

Voice ~ Soft and sweet and delicious.

Sense of Humor ~ She makes me laugh and I make her laugh.

Preferrable

Perfume ~ she wears enough so that I notice it... I'm highly susceptible to sweet fragrances.

Jewelry ~ I think some jewelry looks really nice.  And by God if I give her a necklace or a ring or a watch... it is sacred to her and she wears it sometimes.  It does not reside perpetually within the confines of some silly storage device awaiting a perpetually elusive special occasion. 

Makeup ~ Some girls wear it and some don't... I'm in favor of a little makeup (as opposed to tons). 

Animals ~ I'm not looking for a girl who doesn't like animals...

Disney Movies ~ She loves them.

Kids ~ she wants them... pretty much as many as possible... even though she's also concerned about the population explosion on Planet Earth... so we might opt for moderation eventually.

Finally

I reserve the right to enjoy my own company and the company of my friends and to remain single until I find someone like this.  So what if I don't quite deserve her!  I'll worry about that when the time comes.

A Spoonful of Morphine Helps the Reminiscing Go Down

I recommend another glass of wine
Before you open up that old valentine
And wade into obsequious mendacity
For only about the billionth time.

Happily Never After

No music sad enough to serenade our sad farewell
You gave me love
For which I have no use
The warmth we shared
We exchange for a freezing winter of isolation
In the end I feel things I should have felt before
No one anywhere cares at all...
And so adroitly I keep it to myself...
Almost...

My Equanimity Meter

How best to describe it?  I have a young relationship (not sure what kind of relationship it is... which is part of what makes it so incredibly special) with someone and she's very important to me and a couple nights ago I think I had a psychotic episode wherein I panicked because I hadn't been hearing from her quite so often as usual.  I was talking about the incident with my mother and she said something along the lines of... whatever you do... don't be needy.  And I said... it's one of the most puzzling characteristics of my life that there are several behaviors everyone knows I should avoid like neediness and codependency and insecurity and yet in all of these I have been blessed with unrivaled proficiency.  What useless gifts.

But I maintain... one mistake ought not be too harmful so long as I learn from it and do better... so the next day I determined to do better and not only that but to measure my progress with the implementation of an equanimity meter which amounts to a scale from 1 to 10 designed to register how satisfied I am with life on any given day. 

Today has been a perfect 10!  Messages from my young lady of interest are back to their normal prolificacy and the Jets miraculously won in the last 40 seconds of their game (for the third week in a row) and my blood pressure is down and I used the exercise bike at the Y for 40 minutes and it's snowing and I just ate a yummy pizza... and I have procured my turkey for Thanksgiving... for the kittens... of course.

How My Friend Helped Me Kill Charlton Heston

Originally Written in 2008

I guess it all began in 1986. It was January. January 27th and I was trying to do schoolwork at home. I was doing homeschool that year and while I tried to focus on the work in front of me I was listening to the radio and there was coverage of the space shuttle launch that had been postponed yet again. I thought to myself that all the consternation over the seemingly endless precautions was shallow. I thought one day something disastrous is going to happen and those people will wish they'd been a little more understanding about precautions. The next day seven astronauts died.

Then in 2003 I got a new job and came to work on my first day wearing the bow tie I'd been presented with along with the rest of my uniform. I was intent on learning and remembering my responsibilities and failed to notice I was the only one wearing this silly looking accessory until a pugnacious young lady named Jackie asked me about it and bluntly told me to take it off. I ruefully complied. This incident was fun to reminisce about and always provoked amusement from my coworkers when retold. One day I asked if they'd seen the skit on Saturday Night Live about Senator Paul Simon explaining why he wore a bow tie after every question during his campaign to be nominated as a presidential candidate about 20 years ago. None of them had ever heard of this Senator. Just as well. He died the next day.

Then earlier this year while playing chess I asked my opponent if he'd ever seen the movie Searching for Bobby Fischer. We talked about what a strange fellow Fischer had become... anti~semetic and eccentric. Refusing to engage in any chess tournament without all manner of variations until the game of chess is hardly recognizable. On the day following this conversation he died.

Then last Friday one of my dearest friends was over and while making dinner she asked what movie I had in mind and I told her The Bible and she asked who was in it and I mentioned George C. Scott. She was guessing maybe it was Charlton Heston, but I told her she was probably thinking of The Ten Commandments. Mr. Heston passed away on the following evening.

I'm not doing it on purpose.

My Black Friday Blog

I'm the kind of vegetarian that makes sure my kitten has gourmet sliced turkey on Thanksgiving day.

Other than that I was not likely to have much of a holiday this year, but then a friend from work invited me to her house. She knows I don't have any family in this area. She reassured me that my diet would not be inconvenient and that the kids in the family would not have their Turkey Day spoiled by the presence of a stranger.

So I arrived in the afternoon at Kelly's house and was hooked up with a White Russian in a matter of moments. Which was excellent. But I am a lightweight. And I was properly buzzed in no time. And the second White Russian contained at least twice as much alcohol as the first... with the result that it took me right around five hours to sober up once I'd finished drinking. Kelly had long since gone to work and so I was playing poker with her family... and doing quite well... which is probably inadvisable when you don't really know anyone. So I went all in and lost all my chips so I could go sit on the couch and watch TV until I was okay to drive.

Once I'd gotten out on the road I called a friend that I had never met in person who happens to live in that area and either she graciously invited me to come see the work she's doing on her home or I somehow coerced her into inviting me to come see the work she's doing on her home. Anyway... I'm glad that happened because if it hadn't I would not yet realize how tiny she is. I had imagined previously that she was maybe 5 ft. 9 inches tall, but it turns out she's more around 5'6 which is perfect for her and somehow makes her seem more delicate in a way that makes me feel protective... though I'm probably the only person that was in any serious danger insofar as her dog has manifested in the past a far more aggressive inclination to protect her than any situation I can imagine would require me to demonstrate. Now I have to put the last sentence in bold font just to illustrate how I'm not quite so good a writer as I pretend to be.
Anyway... that visit... unplanned and unexpected... was both innocent and restorative. What do I mean? It's hard to explain. Difficult to share, for it deserves to be hidden away within... too sacred for common consideration... and yet there is nothing common about those who read my blogs... and I really want to commit this memory to writing... to capture the spirit of it if I can into words and phrases.

She showed me the work she's doing on her house. Would have been educational for a more astute visitor, but I feel no more capable of caulking or plastering now than I did before. I think the important thing was to comprehend how extensive her projects are... and how demanding. I asked questions, but was interrupting too often though she was quick to remind me we were likely a little nervous. She showed me an invention she'd designed and I was highly impressed as much by the work involved as by the usefulness of the device. When one suffocates as much in a quagmire of procrastination as I do... it's inspiring to see what others can do when focused and determined.

She has a beautiful collection of swords but no Excalibur... no sword in the stone... wherefore I mentioned I would have to wait until some other time to reveal my real identity.

We watched a movie. She let me choose and it was an easy selection to make. "Pieces of April" about a radical girl who tries like crazy to make a Thanksgiving dinner that will redeem herself in the eyes of her family while this same family is nearly petrified with the prospect of what disaster awaits them as they make the eventful journey to her home.

It's the first time I've ever met someone in person through MySpace. I had this feeling that I knew her pretty well and that mostly what remained was to meet her, but then once we met I realized it surely doesn't work that way at all. You can correspond for months and then meet however spontaneously and that's when you're reminded that a person, an interesting person, is far far too fascinating to understand so easily. Although isn't it true that the degree to which you get to know someone does not depend exclusively upon how interesting that person is, but partially upon how much interest you take in that person? The first hug and the last were splendid, but they could not compare with the hugs in between.

She was thoughtful in many ways. Including the gesture of messaging me to be sure I'd arrived home safely.

But I did not go to sleep last night. I stayed awake watching movies on cable until it was time to venture back out into the night and to see for myself what this Black Friday business is all about. At about 4:30 I found myself in the parking lot, filled to capacity with cars, at Best Buy. But the store was not open. The line of people waiting for business to commence extended all the way from the front door and across two parking lots. Discarded Starbucks cups were strewn without interruption all the way along the curb. I would venture to guess I was in line with between 500 and 800 people but I really had no way to make an accurate count without losing my place. People were not nearly as bad as you would think from stories you've heard. It was annoying to be so crowded once we got inside, but there were no outbreaks of shoving or fighting that I noticed.

That happens a lot... that stories are told in such a way and with such frequency that I fear an inaccurate perception is developed. I notice this with people's idea of New Yorkers, supposedly the rudest people in the United States. How do you think that reputation originated? Here's one possibility. Let's say in 1975 that a North Carolina carpenter named Brian takes his family to Manhatten for a summer vacation and so they're trying to find their way to the Statue of Liberty and they ask a pedestrian named Abdul "How do we get to the Statue of Liberty?" and Abdul just keeps walking. Because he's rude... or maybe because he doesn't speak English... or let's say instead of Abdul... it's Richard that's walking past them and they solicit information from him, while he speaks English... he's never been exposed before to a southern drawl. People... unless you've heard it, you won't appreciate how impossible it is to understand certain varieties of the southern drawl. After repeating their inquiry for directions six times Richard says "Okay, I'm sorry, but I really can't understand what you're asking and I can't be late for this appointment. Good luck." That could seem rude for the simple reason that it implies that Brian and his family from North Carolina do not speak coherent English... and they would be insulted.

All I'm saying is that when you're in line on Black Friday you can probably talk with and joke with the other people in line. I did. And when you're in New York City and you ask for directions... don't be surprised if you get the information you're asking for in exactly the same fashion that you would anywhere else in the English speaking world. I've seen it happen. But you don't hear about that, do you? Who wants to hear about the normal people you interacted with on your vacation?

And then after shopping, I went home and fell asleep. Upon waking I began making spaghetti when there was a knock on the door. Elder Maughan of the Church of Latter Day Saints of Jesus Christ. He and Elder Shultz invited me to come to their church down the street so I went with them and they talked to me about how I was feeling the presence of the Holy Spirit in my heart and they asked me if I wanted to be baptized and because I wanted to hurry things up, I went along with it. I think it's unfair to take advantage of a skeptic when he's separated from his spaghetti.

Happiness, Holidays, Hiccups, and Hugs

Originally Written in 2008

I once kept track of how many happy days I could enjoy consecutively without a bad day interrupting my bliss. Funny that my determination to extend the streak motivated me to dismiss setbacks that would otherwise have devastated me. Oh my new car is totaled and my insurance is cancelled? Oh well... I'm not going to let a little thing like that ruin my day!

More practically the secret to happiness comes from recognizing what happiness is and learning how to enjoy it more fully. Recently I allowed myself to get lazy with this. I had a wonderful Halloween and then a day later I experienced a beautiful but sad emotional baptism which inspired me to write my last blog "Dyscombobulated Blues."

In an effort to redo the past, I'm writing a blog I should have written when I was still cheerful prior to the onset of melancholia Sunday morning:

It's No Coincidence

But I happened to be living in New England when she was born in Massachusetts. And we both moved south as children. Then in 2000 we both moved to Washington. So far we were unaware of each other.

In 2007 I discovered her profile on MySpace and she was kind enough to exchange several messages with me and there was something deeply special about her. How she expressed herself and how she nurtured the expressions of others.

Spontaneously we met in person on Thanksgiving Day and the unforgettable magic of that evening is described in My Black Friday Blog which doesn't sound like it would be wonderful from the title, but it truly was.

Because on Thanksgiving we watched a movie about Thanksgiving I had the idea that as close to Christmas as possible we should watch a Christmas movie together and so that's what we did. And then around Easter we were going to watch a Biblical film called The Bible ~ In the Beginning. At first she thought it starred Charlton Heston and. . .

It's No Coincidence

But one day after my explanation that she was probably thinking of The Ten Commandments... Charlton Heston died as described in my blog:

How My Friend Helped Me Kill Charlton Heston

Eventually I imagined we were ready to go out in the world and do something together in public. And she agreed to accompany me on a karaoke adventure, and although we didn't do so on purpose... we settled on a day that happened to be another holiday... this time Halloween wherefore it was incumbent on me to dress up as Elvis. Not surprisingly a festive spirit possessed her as well and she came up with a gorgeous... stunning... 1920's flapper costume.
When I picked her up we compared our cameras and. . .

It's No Coincidence

But we both have Sony Cyber-shots albeit slightly different versions AND we each purchased our cameras approximately if not precisely on the day after Thanksgiving albeit one year apart.
So just as we're arriving at Performance Grill for our karaoke adventure we find ourselves discussing how you can read a book and then be disappointed in the film or you can enjoy the film and be disappointed in the book. One example we used I think was Pet Sematary and another was The Da Vinci Code and of course. . .

It's No Coincidence

But upon entering the club I observed the TV over the bar was tuned into TNT which just happened to be broadcasting the 2006 film The Da Vinci Code.

Her name is Jenny. For a long while I addressed her as Alyssa which is the name she uses online. But gradually our relationship evolves from an online correspondence into a multi-dimensional friendship where her first name seems to fit perfectly. And I never use it without proper deference to the reverential connotation implemented by Forrest Gump.

On Halloween Jenny danced with me. And she showed me the apartment where she used to live. And she told me how confrontational she could be with people who parked in her designated spot. And she asked me sweetly if I wouldn't mind stopping at a specific food mart where she could purchase a favorite sinful beverage during the acquisition of which she manifested a most adorable spirit of mischief. A variety of mischief so poignant that it could only be inspired by the sweet nefarious taste of peach flavored Sysco.

About this time we agreed that we should, for the first time in our lives, visit a drive in theater before the last ones are extinct. I imagine it's already too late. But you see how it was not a boring kind of conversification between us. You see why we've become friends? Am I revealing at least a glimpse?

I brought her to the casino where I work and assured her no one would recognize me. And then the first person we saw, the security officer checking ID's at the door addressed me by name despite my Elvis wig and my gigantic sunglasses and my black leather jacket. And likewise nearly every other person spoke to me in familiar terms... customers and staff alike. People I'd never even seen before were hellbent on illustrating just how infinitely and utterly wrong I was in my supposition that I would go unnoticed.

Back in the car again we hadn't descended more than a couple levels of the parking garage when Jenny detected a bee on the dashboard. This was no harmless crisis either. Jenny has cause to suspect that being stung could be seriously compromising to her health and so on her recommendation we parked the car until this bee... the only one I've seen in about two years... could be extricated... and... don't overlook this... as I was performing my gallant responsibility, Jenny implored me not to kill it. She might as well have said I dare you to resist me... if you think you can. But really... as charming as her various personas are... I cannot be sure she knows positively how endearing she is... just herself. Even when she reads this it's unlikely she'll understand how lucky I know I am to befriend her.

Once more in her home she found herself contending with hiccups which I endeavored to cure her of by having her inflate a paper bag with oxygen which I then forced to collapse by clapping it between my hands. She's not gotten back to me on the degree to which this prescription was or was not successful.

One of the best things about going out with Jenny is that she tells you when she's having fun or even "tons of fun." When you're hanging out with such a beautiful person it makes you feel on top of the world to know she's having a good time.

But the best part of this holiday... as was the case with the holiday during which we first met face to face... was of course the innocent hugging at the end. The hugs that say I like you and I like being close to you.

I already knew a perfect evening could be spent with Jenny making dinner together and watching a movie. But. . .

It's No Coincidence

that now I know a perfect evening could be spent with Jenny anywhere and doing anything on any day.

Have Yourself a Merry Little Coincidence

Once again I begin a blog with a disclaimer that I don't believe in much of anything... but... just the same... one thing that's REALLY getting to me is all these inexplicable coincidences some of which I have faithfully recorded here:

Analyzing This Coincidence

and here:

How My Friend Helped Me Kill Charlton Heston

and here:

Happiness, Holidays, Hiccups, and Hugs

Well here's the latest. I am interested in a young lady who works in the same casino I do. Recently she sent me a text lamenting the bygone practice of creating a mix tape or CD to show someone your affection. It's been replaced it seems with the practice of buying things... putting a price on love and perverting love into pimpery. Or something like that. I definitely took some poetic license there... but that was the gist all the same. Later she texted me again to say I needed to visit a mutual acquaintance at work when I arrived in order to receive something a description of which she did not offer. This intrigued me and I decided to make a mix CD for my young lady and have it delivered in return. And that's what I did.

Now it happens that my young lady and I disagree completely upon the subject of Christmas. Whereas I refuse adamently to discuss Christmas in any way except during the month of December, she feels every day is a good day to let Christmas influence you with its magical spirit. So as a concession to her philosophy... the first song on the CD is my favorite Christmas song... namely Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas by Coldplay. The other 16 tracks are all dance songs or Disney songs. The first one is the only Christmas tune. Okay so I go to work and I find the mutual acquaintance and she gives me an envelope and I give her the CD entitled Subtle Happy Tunes ~ Replete With Erotic Subliminal Messages (this last bit being a joke of course) and she agrees to deliver it to my lady of interest. So I go to the Employee Dining Room and open the envelope and find a card upon the front of which are the words (are you ready for this?):

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

And though I'm reeling with amazement at the coincidences life relentlessly inundates me with... I don't see the harm in taking this most recent one as a gigantic recommendation (from that department of the universe that happens to concern itself with yours truly) to fully enjoy the upcoming Holiday season. And that's just what I intend to do.

The Eventual Lovers

We tease each other because we know we are okay and that we can take it and it feels good to be happy and healthy and strong. And then we temper the teasing with thoughtful kindness because we know we are not really okay at all. We know we are in hell and worse... that hell is in us.

The Coolest Atheist

Yesterday there was a knock at my door. Two instantly identifiable Mormons. I explained I was on my way to play volleyball and the more talkative of the two enthused that he loves the sport himself. Then he admitted they were obviously from the Church of Latter Day Saints and I admitted I had been over to their church with two of their missionaries a couple years ago, but couldn't remember their names.

The most interesting thing about that earlier experience was that the tour of their church prominently featured several paintings depicting God and Jesus and various angels and prophets. I asked them how they could reconcile the importance of these works of art with the commandment in Exodus 20 that says, "Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth." The reflexive argument that these are paintings and not graven images doesn't work nor does it matter that they feature and glorify the one true God. I'm constantly in awe of the theological accrobats people can demonstrate, always with a straight face, in order to manipulate their scriptures into servility. They no longer practice burnt offerings because the old covenant was nailed to the cross, but part of the old covenant included the commandment not to kill. They kept that one... for the most part... unless you question them about supporting the wars in the Middle East or about supporting capital punishment in which case... what God meant to say is that you shouldn't murder someone in cold blood. God could have saved everyone a lot of time if he'd shortened the entire Bible down to these very few words: Homosexuals are disgusting. That's all anyone really wants to use the Bible for lately... they just need some good solid excuse for bigotry... the rest is only so much old English. But I digress... incessantly.

This time I only mentioned the tour of their church and didn't delve into the whole graven image conundrum. They wanted to know if my visit had made an impression on me and I revealed that I am an atheist. This, in itself, has a little bit of a story behind it. On any given day I may choose instead to call myself an agnostic. I personally do not find the two to be contradictory at all. The former indicates a lack of belief in God while the latter... a lack of knowledge of God's existence. Agnosticism is usually more palatable for believers to tolerate. Agnostics, it seems, are just simple and spineless and stupid... they are to be pitied while atheists, on the other hand, are far more threatening and offensive and just plain wrong! I'm both, and will mention one or the other of these philosophies depending on my attitude toward believers at any given moment. Yesterday my attitude was one of exasperation and I'll tell you why.

Earlier I'd been shopping at Fred Meyer and happened to pick up this month's Vanity Fair to see whether or not I should buy it. I came across an article about a prominent atheist, Christopher Hitchens, who happens to be dying from a tumor in his esophagus. The name of the article is Unanswerable Prayers and the part that irritated me was a comment made on a Christian website: Who else feels Christopher Hitchens getting terminal throat cancer [sic] was God’s revenge for him using his voice to blaspheme him? Atheists like to ignore FACTS. They like to act like everything is a “coincidence”. Really? It’s just a “coincidence” [that] out of any part of his body, Christopher Hitchens got cancer in the one part of his body he used for blasphemy? Yea, keep believing that Atheists. He’s going to writhe in agony and pain and wither away to nothing and then die a horrible agonizing death, and THEN comes the real fun, when he’s sent to HELLFIRE forever to be tortured and set afire.

I know when I see something like this, it is not representative of how all Christians feel, but it has the effect on me that I don't want to be subtle in my skepticism... yes I'm an atheist... I've read the Bible... the whole book before I was 15 years old and yes I know more about the Bible than 90% of the Christians who believe in it... yes I went to church for my entire childhood and went to private church schools too and I prayed and studied and believed and and was elected class pastor in 1986 and 1988 at Madison Academy and I'm an atheist without reservation. I don't believe in heaven or hell or angels or demons or spirits of any kind... certainly not spirits that impregnate virgins.

I didn't get into all that with the missionaries, though. It was enough yesterday just to say I am an atheist. When they asked why I mentioned my opinion of where the idea of God came from which I have explored in a previous blog, Solar Powered Theism. The more talkative fellow then proceeded to proselytize about the feeling you have when you love someone but you can't prove that you love them... that's how it is when the Lord is speaking to you. They asked me how do I explain the big events in life and I said that I don't. I used to speculate on what would cause someone to make up a story in which their child was miraculously healed. A person may not seem like the type to invent a story like that. But I don't believe in miracles. So I have no opinion about such things. I had to rush all of this along. They gave me a little card with a picture of Jesus on it. It's around here somewhere... though it resembles a likeness of something that may or may not be in heaven... it's not really bothering anyone.

As they were leaving the less talkative one said, "You're the coolest atheist that we've ever talked to." To which I replied, "I know a lot of them can be jerks. I've talked to them too and sometimes I'm like (in my sarcastic voice)... Wow... I'm one of you... wonderful!"

So I felt good about that. Then I went and played volleyball and lost my temper with some psychopathic idiot. I stormed off the court and he called out "Stop being a baby!" And I said without thinking at all, "Fuck you, bitch!"

So I didn't feel good about that.

Hypnotic Enigma

I'm fond of asserting that I'm the most skeptical person you'll ever meet. One of the things I don't believe in is hypnosis. My dad used to tell a story about a U.S. soldier who'd been hypnotized as a prisoner of war. Back in this country after his release he happened to glimpse the Washington Monument while touring D.C. and immediately opened the door to his vehicle and jumped out of the car in traffic. Stories like this are too fantastic for me, but I wanted to get a closer examination so yesterday I went to the Puyallup Fair and watched, for the first time, a hypnosis show. The Hypno~Chick selected about 14 volunteers from the audience and chanted them to sleep. One young guy in the middle of the group seemed especially eager to relax and we worried he might sprawl out on the floor. Throughout the show he demonstrated the most enthusiasm for jumping through the hoops prescribed by the host... and if there were a planted participant I would suspect him, but I don't see how plants would be a successful ploy inasmuch as there's nothing to stop me from going to all 28 or so presentations to see if he's on the stage on a regular basis in which case the scam would too easily be exposed. More likely he merely craves attention and has discovered that he can be a star for a few minutes if he makes more of a fool of himself than anyone else.

One thing that made me even more incredulous than usual was when she told this elderly fellow that when he looked at the audience he would see that none of us were wearing clothes... I guess he pretended to be shocked or enamored depending on who he was looking at, but I really can't imagine that hypnosis can make you visualize things that aren't really there (or in this case... things aren't there that really are). Could he be induced to see something specific like the Holy Grail even though no one really knows what it looks like?

The Hypno~Chick ostensibly convinced the guys on the stage that they were wearing nothing but Star Wars underwear and the girls that their belly buttons were falling off. She had one fellow run into the audience to passionately and romantically make out with his wife. She had them all shaking as though there were an earthquake and then later performing like bodybuilding contestants at which time all the guys (except the elderly fellow) obeyed her instructions to remove their shirts.

Perhaps the most interesting trick was when she removed the number 7 from their minds and then told them they could win a Lamborghini by correctly filling in the blank of the movie title, Snow White and the ______ Dwarfs. The old fellow said Snow White and the Little People Dwarfs. Hypno~Chick tried to make it easier and asked, "What is four plus three?" Immediately one volunteer insisted the answer is four to three. Others adamently pushed for 12 or 13 even while counting on their fingers. I guess what makes this part so intriguing to me is that it seems like it would be easy during their clamoring to accidentally blurt out the actual number 7, but no one did.

I had a great time and felt lucky to hang out with an exceptionally fun young lady from work, but in the end my research on hypnosis remains inconclusive. I believe the only way to figure out if there's anything to it, is to be one of the volunteers. Needless to say I'll win the bodybuilding contest.

An Atheist Refutes Evolution

It’s usually safe to assume that an atheist subscribes to the theory of evolution, but I’m different. Granted, I don’t happen to have much in the way of credentials where science is concerned. It’s my least favorite subject dating back to a project in the third grade during which time in my life I assumed I could invent anything I wanted to right up until the night before the deadline when I tried to create a functioning automobile out of a shoebox.

But here’s my argument just the same. It seems evolutionary theory is self-contradictory. On the one hand you have life evolving from a single organism and on the other you have the survival of the fittest. Fish incur mutations that make them superior to the other fish, right? A fish with feet gains access to a greater supply of food. He can swim like other fish… or if that’s not bringing home the bacon he can go waltzing up onto the beach to rummage around for any dinner that may have washed up on the shore. But we’re reminded how very gradual are these mutations. Mr. Joe Fish isn’t just suddenly born with feet out of nowhere. More likely his dad had the semblance of feet… maybe without so many toes… and his granddad had a couple of rather undedeveloped stubs whereby feet were apparently thinking about sprouting and his great granddad… definitely had a couple of bumps from whence appendages seemed at least tempted to emerge. But during these almost-feet generations it seems these fish would be seriously encumbered during the act of swimming while their less evolved relatives swam rudimentary circles around them. In this case, the fittest fish would be the ones not evolving.

I liken this to our species. I’m told I am on the cutting edge of evolution because I have only one pair of wisdom teeth instead of two. Humans used to need both pairs but now we require none and eventually we shall produce none. But another aspect of survival for our species is intelligence and inasmuch as I’m smart enough to realize that there are already too many humans inhabiting our planet and that there will not be enough resources to support them all, I have intelligently declined to procreate (this magnanimous sacrifice has been greatly assisted by dozens of equally intelligent ladies who have unanimously refused to have sexual relations with me). So here I am, a living evolutionary link between four wisdom teeth and none… but also too enlightened to pass down the less-teeth gene. What a Darwinian paradox! The humans most likely to reproduce are the ones with too many wisdom teeth and not enough wisdom… next thing we’ll have fish riding bicycles.

Cinementalic Disorder

I had been dating Carolyn for only a few months and we were looking forward to seeing the new WWII film, Windtalkers. I thought she would enjoy the experience more fully if she had a better understanding of the historical context and so I casually engaged her in conversation. Her questions revealed some disconcerting defects in her education; If there was a WWII why wasn't there a WWI? And was there a WWIII? For some reason I wanted her to share my passionate fascination with history, but realized that just telling her everything I know would be pointless. Too much information too quickly and without enough appeal. My idea was to rent a couple of videos that could make the two world wars come alive for her... maybe Legends of the Fall followed by Pearl Harbor, but then I remembered watching Winds of War the mini~series in the early 80's and I thought that would be perfectly informative while sufficiently dramatic and entertaining. Carolyn pointed out the one thing she did know about WWII was that General MacArthur was a key figure. This she was acquainted with from childhood inasmuch as she grew up in the Philippines where he is still considered a hero. So we agreed to watch the movie about his exploits starring Gregory Peck and then I felt our movie marathon wouldn't be complete without John Wayne's Sands of Iwo Jima. So much of what I had learned about the world around me I have learned from watching movies, I wanted Carolyn to have this same appreciation. The more you know about your world, I reasoned, the greater capacity you gain for loving it.

But it spun out of control. I became obsessed with my movie project. It wasn't enough to see a few films about two specific wars. I wanted her to see movies about my favorite, the American Civil War, but how helpful would that be if she didn't know anything about the American Revolution? And I began quizzing her; What is another name for The War Between the States? What is another name for The War of Independence? And on and on.

I had to include The Crucible because it depicts colonial America so well and also Last of the Mohicans because it's the only significant movie addressing the French and Indian War. These two boasted the advantage of being significant to literature as well! And what about European history? I added The Messenger to the project so she would know about Joan of Arc and Shakespeare in Love and then I began hunting for movies about Henry VIII and Elizabeth.

I was just warming up. By God, why not go all the way back to the beginning? I had her watch John Huston's epic film, The Bible which starts with Adam and Eve and ends with George C. Scott playing an almost demented Abraham. Augmenting the biblical aspects of the project, I began searching online for good movies about Joseph and Samson and David and Jesus.

At first I was happy to rent these movies but soon it occurred to me we might have kids one day and this project would benefit them as well, so I began to collect the films and VHS wouldn't be around forever so I converted to DVD's. I was so focused on this project that my eagerness became problematic. I was virtually begging Carolyn to watch whatever the next film in the project might be and sometimes it got on her nerves. I resorted occasionally to bargaining with her. I would go to the mall with her only if she would agree to watch a movie with me when we got home. I would always have the next one cued up in the DVD player and and I wouldn't tell her which one it was either. My opinion being that the best way to enjoy a movie is for all its suspense to be fanatically protected and that included not knowing what the movie was about beforehand. Sometimes she would tease me that I couldn't ever break up with her because then there would be no more film project. And what's interesting is that this really was a concern for me. But we did break up and I went right on compiling this list of movies and researching them and arranging them in just the right order even though there was no longer anyone for me to edify and enlighten.

And I'm still working on it today with a list 14 pages long and a DVD collection in the neighborhood of 900 movies beginning with One Million Years B.C. and ending with the Star Trek films. Currently I'm perfecting the Westerns which are particularly tricky to place so while I'm watching them I'm on a vigilant lookout for newspaper headlines or telegraphs which might allow a glimpse of a date. Otherwise I must resort to analyzing what kinds of pistols they're using or researching what year such and such a western town first gained railroad accessibility. Recently I watched Jubal in which a cowboy is worried about his Sears and Roebuck fiddle and because Sears didn't add Roebuck until 1893 I felt this was a good clue, but the characters kept referring to Wyoming as a territory which puzzled me because they became a state in 1890. Now, I ask you, who else in this world do you think has ever struggled with this contradiction? Clearly this cowboy could not have guessed in 1889 that four years later Sears would be come Sears and Roebuck, but why in 1893 would people still be referring to Wyoming as a territory?

So this is my Cinementalic Disorder. Just as a dentist cannot look at a smile without analyzing how it could be orthodontically corrected, likewise I cannot watch a movie without deconstructing it for a chronological setting. Avatar, for example, takes place in August of 2154. See what I mean?

Solar Powered Theism

It's the chicken egg thing with a decidedly blasphemous twist: Did God create man or did man create God? One reason I cannot believe in the God formerly inculcated upon me is that I have discovered the conspicuously unmagical wizard behind the curtain. Which is to say once you understand the origin of God, you can pretty much eliminate him from your candidates for Godness.

And here's where God came from.

Long ago when mankind was in its earliest stages and was embarrassingly dumb by modern standards, there was such a thing as ignorance. He didn't know why summer turned gradually to winter, but when it did... warmth vaporized into horrific cold. Freezing temperatures not only reduced his comfort, but also brought a recess to the growth of crops... winter chased away whatever meat he might have hunted whether lost to migration or hybernation. And he didn't know why day turned to night, but when it did his vision was debilitated until dawn. The sun meant warmth and light and growth and food and health. The absence of the sun meant shivering and darkness and weakness and hunger and sickness and death.

I submit that the first worship in the history of our species was the worship of the sun. It was our irresistible inclination to anthropomorphize that gradually decorated our sun with attributes and traits such as ominscience and omnipotence and omnipresence and justice and wisdom and love and forbearance or in more austere capacities... the not-so-warm-and-fuzzy characteristics of vengeance and wrath and jealousy and damnation.

So while a number of skeptics dismiss any challenge to disprove God by blithely insisting it is up to the believer to provide evidence to support a positive claim, I have no such scruples. I don't have proof there is no God, but I have what I think is a reasonable theory of how belief in God developed. He is the very important orb at the center of our solar system around which our planet and several of her siblings revolve on a consistent basis. Take away several thousand years of imaginative embellishment and he has no more personality than... let's say... a mustard seed.