Backstory: The former Attorney General of the state of Utah and the former former Attorney General of the state of Utah are both under investigation by people, feds and staties, who think said Atty. Gens. committed various crimes and indiscretions when they were in office. Now, this investigations is some months old. Yet, today it was reported that search warrants have been issued for the homes of the two ex-AG's.
That's really stupid. I mean, can you imagine a conversation between the two, or better yet, some incriminating emails. One says, "They will probably search our houses in the near future. Let's leave some incriminating evidence lying about, marked bills, forged passports, something like that." The other says, "Great. I have some counterfeit money I could put in a safe."
Now, for all I know these two are really crooks and not merely sleezebags. But I also know that they are not stupid. They have had months to prepare their houses for the possibility of a search. I'd be willing to bet that there are more illegal things in my house than there are in theirs, and I don't know of anything illegal in my house.
The former AG's are complaining that the searches were demeaning and intrusive, an assault on their privacy and in insult to their families. And they are right. It was harassment, pure and simple. The only object of the searches was to humiliate the F-AG's.
It will backfire, I surmise. The dingleberries who thought this one up have done nothing to advance any case against the F-AG's, and have probably generated some sympathy for aforesaid F-AG's. I know I feel more sympathetic toward them than I did yesterday.
It just goes to show that being righteous and being smart do not necessarily occur together in the same person.
Wednesday, June 4, 2014
Friday, April 25, 2014
A New (Old) Economic Model
I have been supporting the economy in a number of ingenious ways. Because of a recent move that necessitated inventorying all my junk possessions, I've discovered just how heavy my support has been. I call it the "Buy, lose, replace, find" model. As an example, I now have in one place in my medicine cabinet 15 tiny jars of Carmex that I've bought, lost, replaced, and found again. The same is true for razors, sunglasses, nasal spray, glass polishing cloths, car-care products (waxes, brushes, hose sprayers, buckets, electric polishers), pepto-bismol bottles, watches, and, of course, ball-point pens.
I have four sleeping bags, three tents, three camp stoves, four fire-starters, and dozens of tent pegs. I have six blue plastic tarps and three canvas ones. I have three bicycle pumps, and perhaps ten little bicycle valve tools. I have three sets of cycling gloves, three sets of ski gloves, five sets of winter gloves (three black and two brown), three sets of mechanics gloves, and about seven singlets that I can't throw out because that would ensure that I find the missing ones. I have 22 bungee cords.
I have three shop vacuums, at least five sets each of SAE and metric end wrenches. Ditto socket sets. My screwdriver collection is second to none. I have two huge cross-shaped lug-nut wrenches, neither of which fits any car I currently drive. I have enough micro-fiber polishing rags to open my own store. I have two sets of brown, two sets of black, and two sets of gray automobile rubber floor mats. I have six folding pocket knives (ten if you count the little Swiss Army ones with the tiny scissors). I have three come-alongs, four ladders, at lease four claw hammers and as many ball-peen hammers.
How, you may think, does one lose a ladder. Especially an extension ladder that if ten feet long when collapsed? I don't know. All I know is that one day I need a ladder. and when I look around for it, it isn't there. So, I buy a new one, and sometimes as soon as I get home, I discover the old one in a spot that I was sure I had searched earlier. My socket sets mysteriously disappear and as mysteriously appear again when I open my tool chest to put in my just-bought set. Carmex simply vanishes temporarily.
I now have enough of the items above to last me for the rest of my life. I have done my part for the economy, and am considering taking it to the next level. Now, where did I leave my car?
I have four sleeping bags, three tents, three camp stoves, four fire-starters, and dozens of tent pegs. I have six blue plastic tarps and three canvas ones. I have three bicycle pumps, and perhaps ten little bicycle valve tools. I have three sets of cycling gloves, three sets of ski gloves, five sets of winter gloves (three black and two brown), three sets of mechanics gloves, and about seven singlets that I can't throw out because that would ensure that I find the missing ones. I have 22 bungee cords.
I have three shop vacuums, at least five sets each of SAE and metric end wrenches. Ditto socket sets. My screwdriver collection is second to none. I have two huge cross-shaped lug-nut wrenches, neither of which fits any car I currently drive. I have enough micro-fiber polishing rags to open my own store. I have two sets of brown, two sets of black, and two sets of gray automobile rubber floor mats. I have six folding pocket knives (ten if you count the little Swiss Army ones with the tiny scissors). I have three come-alongs, four ladders, at lease four claw hammers and as many ball-peen hammers.
How, you may think, does one lose a ladder. Especially an extension ladder that if ten feet long when collapsed? I don't know. All I know is that one day I need a ladder. and when I look around for it, it isn't there. So, I buy a new one, and sometimes as soon as I get home, I discover the old one in a spot that I was sure I had searched earlier. My socket sets mysteriously disappear and as mysteriously appear again when I open my tool chest to put in my just-bought set. Carmex simply vanishes temporarily.
I now have enough of the items above to last me for the rest of my life. I have done my part for the economy, and am considering taking it to the next level. Now, where did I leave my car?
Thursday, December 5, 2013
One of the glories of our governmental system, I always thought, was that those who served did so out of a desire to help their fellow beings, and not for fame, loot, or power. I had in mind Washington and Jefferson, aristocrats who devoted themselves to a noble cause; Lincoln the self-made man who ruined (and lost) his life serving others; and a host of other figures whose creed was to serve. It didn't bother me too much that the Brahmins in office usually regarded those they helped as being little better than peasants. Their vision was still one in which the populace, the unwashed, the proles, hoi polloi, were still bettering themselves.
I would contrast this vision with the reality of government in other countries, when political office was the key to the bank, and corruption was the rule. The people? Let them eat cake.
I guess, though, that we are catching up to the rest of the world. I am a resident of the state of Utah, based on a set of governmental postulates (in turn based on a set of religious postulates) which make service to one's fellow beings the highest calling one can have. One of the state's highest elected officials may be, in blunt terms, a crook who sold influence and shielded the very people he should have been putting in jail. He resigned just ahead of a lynch mob, but waited long enough to be sure he got his pension funded.
I would contrast this vision with the reality of government in other countries, when political office was the key to the bank, and corruption was the rule. The people? Let them eat cake.
I guess, though, that we are catching up to the rest of the world. I am a resident of the state of Utah, based on a set of governmental postulates (in turn based on a set of religious postulates) which make service to one's fellow beings the highest calling one can have. One of the state's highest elected officials may be, in blunt terms, a crook who sold influence and shielded the very people he should have been putting in jail. He resigned just ahead of a lynch mob, but waited long enough to be sure he got his pension funded.
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Bible City musings
Utah, or Salt Lake City, or maybe Mayberry, has been designated "Bible City" for 2013. To celebrate this, a group of dignitaries and other high-minded people gathered in the rotunda of the capitol (I think) to read passages from the Bible. I wasn't invited, and didn't attend, but you can be sure that the passages read from the Bible were all 1) very familiar, 2) uplifting, and 2) G-rated.
The truth is that of the 1590 pages in my version of the Bible, only about 50, total, are worth reading or something you'd let your kids look at.
Let's suppose for a minute that I were invited to the read-a-thon in the rotunda, I think it would be nice to read something that really represents the spirit of the Bible. Here are my selections, both from the Book of Numbers:
11:1 And when the people complained, it displeased the Lord: and the Lord heard it; and his anger was kindled; and the fire of the Lord burnt among them, and consumed them that were in the uttermost parts of the camp.
21:2 And Israel vowed a vow unto the Lord, and said, If thou wilt indeed deliver this people into my hand, then, I will utterly destroy their cities.
3 And the Lord hearkened to the voice of Israel, and delivered up the Canaanites; and they utterly destroyed them and their cities: and he called the name of the place Hormah.
Some interesting things here. In the first selection, there is the puzzling fact that only the "uttermost" parts of the camp were burnt. That shows, clearly, I think, the danger of living in the suburbs.
In the second section, the King of the country that the Israelites were travelling through took some of them captive. The gall of the man! I am assuming, by the way, that the they and the them in verse three refer to the Israelites and Canaanites respectively.
These two typify the Old Testament much more exactly than "The Lord is my shepherd." The whole Old Testament is a dreary parade of murder, rape, genocide, slavery, and brutality, interspersed with excruciatingly tedious genealogies.
The truth is that of the 1590 pages in my version of the Bible, only about 50, total, are worth reading or something you'd let your kids look at.
Let's suppose for a minute that I were invited to the read-a-thon in the rotunda, I think it would be nice to read something that really represents the spirit of the Bible. Here are my selections, both from the Book of Numbers:
11:1 And when the people complained, it displeased the Lord: and the Lord heard it; and his anger was kindled; and the fire of the Lord burnt among them, and consumed them that were in the uttermost parts of the camp.
21:2 And Israel vowed a vow unto the Lord, and said, If thou wilt indeed deliver this people into my hand, then, I will utterly destroy their cities.
3 And the Lord hearkened to the voice of Israel, and delivered up the Canaanites; and they utterly destroyed them and their cities: and he called the name of the place Hormah.
Some interesting things here. In the first selection, there is the puzzling fact that only the "uttermost" parts of the camp were burnt. That shows, clearly, I think, the danger of living in the suburbs.
In the second section, the King of the country that the Israelites were travelling through took some of them captive. The gall of the man! I am assuming, by the way, that the they and the them in verse three refer to the Israelites and Canaanites respectively.
These two typify the Old Testament much more exactly than "The Lord is my shepherd." The whole Old Testament is a dreary parade of murder, rape, genocide, slavery, and brutality, interspersed with excruciatingly tedious genealogies.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Merciful Talliban
Somewhere in the middle of my morning paper, I ran onto two stories posted side by side, so that the headlines could be read almost together. The first headline was, "Taliban Prisoner Complains about Treatment." It seems that a jailed terrorist thinks that his keepers are being too strict on his, limiting his ability to practice his religion, and therefore putting him in danger of hellfire. He claims that if he can't exercise his religious convictions to the fullest, he is unacceptable to God. In this case it's prayer, something about the way his rug is positioned. The second headline read, "Taliban beheads 13 at party." It seems that some people, exercising their religious convictions to the fullest, broke into a home and cut the heads off of a bunch of people. All in the name of God, of course. Ah, those Talibaners, they know how to have a good time.
I'd like to believe that the layout person at the paper put those two stories together deliberately, so that the forbearance of one society could be contrasted nicely with the viciousness of the other. But, probably not.
I'd like to believe that the layout person at the paper put those two stories together deliberately, so that the forbearance of one society could be contrasted nicely with the viciousness of the other. But, probably not.
Monday, May 7, 2012
The Grammar King
I just finished a most unsatisfying semester. I was notched into a class I didn't want to teach, and felt that I was really not able to give my best shot. Not because I didn't know the material -- it was Grammar, and I am a Grammarian. Or, at least, a linguist.
Y'see, the problem is that as a linguist I know that there is a huge difference between the knowledge of the rules of grammar (as they are taught in the school system) and the ability to produce grammatical sentences. For most people, there is no reason or value or validity or worth or profit in studying traditional parts of speech grammar. I felt obliged to share this information with the class, which caused them to ask the question, "Then, why are we here?" I couldn't answer that one very well.
So there I was, teaching grammar. Since I had to teach it and they had to take it, I vowed that I'd try to 1) make it interesting, and 2) make sure the students got it. As a result, I basically worked on a day to day schedule, talking about nouns and verbs and adjectives and (shudder) adverbs, then testing the students to see what they had absorbed. It made for an up-in-the-air experience which must have been unsettling to modern students, who want to know exactly what they are doing from day to day, and, more importantly, when the test days are.
In this class, students knew the general trend of the lessons, but didn't know precisely what we would be doing on any one day.
It was actually a very liberating experience in a way. I wasn't simply covering a set amount of material in a set time -- I was covering as much as I could cover thoroughly in the time I had. And, I have to admit, for a linguist, talking about syntax and words is fun any time, even if it doesn't serve any real-world purpose.
Y'see, the problem is that as a linguist I know that there is a huge difference between the knowledge of the rules of grammar (as they are taught in the school system) and the ability to produce grammatical sentences. For most people, there is no reason or value or validity or worth or profit in studying traditional parts of speech grammar. I felt obliged to share this information with the class, which caused them to ask the question, "Then, why are we here?" I couldn't answer that one very well.
So there I was, teaching grammar. Since I had to teach it and they had to take it, I vowed that I'd try to 1) make it interesting, and 2) make sure the students got it. As a result, I basically worked on a day to day schedule, talking about nouns and verbs and adjectives and (shudder) adverbs, then testing the students to see what they had absorbed. It made for an up-in-the-air experience which must have been unsettling to modern students, who want to know exactly what they are doing from day to day, and, more importantly, when the test days are.
In this class, students knew the general trend of the lessons, but didn't know precisely what we would be doing on any one day.
It was actually a very liberating experience in a way. I wasn't simply covering a set amount of material in a set time -- I was covering as much as I could cover thoroughly in the time I had. And, I have to admit, for a linguist, talking about syntax and words is fun any time, even if it doesn't serve any real-world purpose.
Monday, April 16, 2012
Myth as history
So here's the deal: A beloved king in ancient times knows that he's getting old and liable to bite the dust any day. He wants to assure that his oldest son succeeds him, and to give his people some kingly advice. So, he says to his son, "Get everyone together tomorrow and I'll talk to them." Now, we have no idea what time of day this occurred, but let's say about 10 a.m., the start of the business day.
So, on the next day, all the people of the kingdom gathered, and there were a lot of them, so many that the king had to order a tower built so that he could speak from it. How big was the tower? We don't know. Let's say, though, that it was 12 feet tall and big enough to hold one king.
With me so far? Okay, so in come the people. They came in droves, they came in hordes, they came in legions. How many? We don't know, but they set up their tents facing the king's tower, and gathered together as families. So, the patriarch's tent would be there, in all its patriarchal splendor, then the tents of the sons, the sons of sons, the sons of sons of sons, and so on. I don't know where the daughters were -- they're not mentioned.
Now, there were so many people, that they couldn't all hear the king, not even from his tower, not even if he used a megaphone. So, he stationed people throughout the crowd with paper and pencil (or the equivalent) to take down the words the king spake and distribute them to the crowd. The king gave a bang-up sermon and named his oldest son as successor, a good time was had by all, and the people went home satisfied and edified.
But there are some trouble spots in the story. The way the story is told, it was a spur of the moment kind of thing. The king talking to his son and sort of hatching the plot on the fly. That being the case, here's what had to happen in the space of about one day:
- The king had to get word to his people to assemble. There being no telephone or radio service, no roads, it meant runners out to all the segments of the kingdom. Since it's a kingdom and not a city or a duchy or a barony, we can assume there were a lot of people. Were there runners hanging around, waiting for the king do tell them what to do? No, because the king prided himself on not being that kind of a king. So, first he had to hustle up some messengers. Whom would he choose? Professional messengers? Aren't any. So, he's got to find someone to round up the messengers. He's got to write out instructions to everybody on assembling: time, place, order of encampment, and so on.
- The people have to assemble. So, first, they've got to get the message. Then, they have to pack and make provisions for their flocks and herds and fields. I mean, you don't just drop everything and take off to see the king. So, herds taken care of, tents packed, family assembled, the families have to journey to where the king is giving a speech, set up camp, get dinner cooked and eaten and the kids to bed.
How long would that take? Let's say that the kingdom is a small one -- fifty by fifty miles, and that the king's tower was smack dab in the middle. So, starting from 10 a.m., the king has to write and make copies of his orders, say one hour; find some runners (he'd need, what? 50?), two hours; get them equipped, girded, mounted, given food, drink, and the messages, another two hours. So, it would be a minimum of five hours before they even started out. And that's assuming a bureaucracy more efficient than is really possible. Then, the riders have to ride, run to the ends of the kingdom, seek out the patriarchs, give them the messages, and ride home, exhausted. The patriarchs have to gather their people, etc. etc. etc., and make it back to the king's city before nightfall, in time to set up their tents. And these people are either walking or riding in carts, which have a top speed of three miles an hour downhill in a tail wind.
See what I mean? I can't be done. What I've described is a process that would take a week under the best of circumstances, and more likely three.
Yet, there they were the next day.
And what about the scribes, the paper, the writing, the copying, of the speech? And the tower. Let's not forget about the tower. If the king scared up builders and got them started right away, how long would it take? Well, first he'd have to find enough builders. Then, they'd have to get the lumber, probably cut it as there were no Lowes stores anywhere around. Then, they'd have to put it together. Could it be done in one third of one day? Maybe. But I've seen movies of people trying to build things like siege towers, and it's a more-than-one-day job, and they did have a Lowes nearby.
Yet the account is firm -- it happened in the space of about 24 hours. Heck, let's say 48 hours. It's still not nearly enough time. I mean, the logistics of the note-taking themselves are formidable.
Yet people buy the story. As history. Not as myth, allegory, legend, or parable. As history. I just can't go along.
So, on the next day, all the people of the kingdom gathered, and there were a lot of them, so many that the king had to order a tower built so that he could speak from it. How big was the tower? We don't know. Let's say, though, that it was 12 feet tall and big enough to hold one king.
With me so far? Okay, so in come the people. They came in droves, they came in hordes, they came in legions. How many? We don't know, but they set up their tents facing the king's tower, and gathered together as families. So, the patriarch's tent would be there, in all its patriarchal splendor, then the tents of the sons, the sons of sons, the sons of sons of sons, and so on. I don't know where the daughters were -- they're not mentioned.
Now, there were so many people, that they couldn't all hear the king, not even from his tower, not even if he used a megaphone. So, he stationed people throughout the crowd with paper and pencil (or the equivalent) to take down the words the king spake and distribute them to the crowd. The king gave a bang-up sermon and named his oldest son as successor, a good time was had by all, and the people went home satisfied and edified.
But there are some trouble spots in the story. The way the story is told, it was a spur of the moment kind of thing. The king talking to his son and sort of hatching the plot on the fly. That being the case, here's what had to happen in the space of about one day:
- The king had to get word to his people to assemble. There being no telephone or radio service, no roads, it meant runners out to all the segments of the kingdom. Since it's a kingdom and not a city or a duchy or a barony, we can assume there were a lot of people. Were there runners hanging around, waiting for the king do tell them what to do? No, because the king prided himself on not being that kind of a king. So, first he had to hustle up some messengers. Whom would he choose? Professional messengers? Aren't any. So, he's got to find someone to round up the messengers. He's got to write out instructions to everybody on assembling: time, place, order of encampment, and so on.
- The people have to assemble. So, first, they've got to get the message. Then, they have to pack and make provisions for their flocks and herds and fields. I mean, you don't just drop everything and take off to see the king. So, herds taken care of, tents packed, family assembled, the families have to journey to where the king is giving a speech, set up camp, get dinner cooked and eaten and the kids to bed.
How long would that take? Let's say that the kingdom is a small one -- fifty by fifty miles, and that the king's tower was smack dab in the middle. So, starting from 10 a.m., the king has to write and make copies of his orders, say one hour; find some runners (he'd need, what? 50?), two hours; get them equipped, girded, mounted, given food, drink, and the messages, another two hours. So, it would be a minimum of five hours before they even started out. And that's assuming a bureaucracy more efficient than is really possible. Then, the riders have to ride, run to the ends of the kingdom, seek out the patriarchs, give them the messages, and ride home, exhausted. The patriarchs have to gather their people, etc. etc. etc., and make it back to the king's city before nightfall, in time to set up their tents. And these people are either walking or riding in carts, which have a top speed of three miles an hour downhill in a tail wind.
See what I mean? I can't be done. What I've described is a process that would take a week under the best of circumstances, and more likely three.
Yet, there they were the next day.
And what about the scribes, the paper, the writing, the copying, of the speech? And the tower. Let's not forget about the tower. If the king scared up builders and got them started right away, how long would it take? Well, first he'd have to find enough builders. Then, they'd have to get the lumber, probably cut it as there were no Lowes stores anywhere around. Then, they'd have to put it together. Could it be done in one third of one day? Maybe. But I've seen movies of people trying to build things like siege towers, and it's a more-than-one-day job, and they did have a Lowes nearby.
Yet the account is firm -- it happened in the space of about 24 hours. Heck, let's say 48 hours. It's still not nearly enough time. I mean, the logistics of the note-taking themselves are formidable.
Yet people buy the story. As history. Not as myth, allegory, legend, or parable. As history. I just can't go along.
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